Entitled.

Writer. London. carlacampbellwrites.com

[xeroscribed]

Hope's Reach.

Simply, I hope you do not back away from me.

I hope you don't find yourself so far in the distance that you cannot see me.

I hope I can still reach you

That when I raise my hand and beckon, I feel yours meet mine

Warm

Firm

The kind of grip that reassures and says, "I'm still here"

Because you want to be.

I hope that you stay.

[xeroscribed]

I do not ask for much. Yet I desire the world.

Your time. Your love.

[godkissedme]

[xeroscribed]

Distrust.

I have been chastised too many times for my honesty. I have been cast aside as a result more than once.

So, yes. I find it deeply fucking offensive when I am speaking only truth and I am disbelieved.

And what then can I do?

To argue against it only strengthens their view. That I am trying too hard to push this assumed "facade".

What can I do but remain choked in this noxious air of indignation?

This lack of trust has nought to do with me. To think I would be victim for that which long precedes...

The reality only vexes me further.

Still, my burden to avoid the cold shoulder. Keep this rift in our love from growing bolder.

It's early days; only the first blip.

I'll wait on recovery to determine where we'll head. What will be. How we'll shift.

[xeroscribed]

Worth.

On paper doesn't mean anything.

Checklists are worthless.

I don't desire people whose credentials impress.

Give me the creative souls.

The kind hearted.

True value lies in those who also see value in you.

Those who reciprocate your efforts.

Who share your values.

Who understand.

Fuck your net worth.

Fuck your resume.

True depth cannot be measured in values and figures.

[xeroscribed]

Joy & Pain.

"Love is painful."

Why, yes, it can be. It can also be joy. So, why not dive into joy?

Why choose nonchalance? Why keep your guard up? Just to wind up experiencing pain anyway.

You would choose nothingness followed by pain?

I rather choose joy despite the risk of it. If pain comes, so be it.

At least I had joy.

[xeroscribed]

Falling In.

It's too early to say I love him. I'm sure.

But I am also sure that the words are within me.

Lingering in the back of my mind.

Tickling the tip of my tongue.

I won't speak yet.

But I'll let my eyes show my heart.

My touch trace my intention.

I won't say it.

But he'll feel it.

[xeroscribed]

I woke from a dream in the early hours. It was mostly a fun dream. I was a teen. I was having a great time being super athletic and involved. Then it got quiet and all the games were over. And I was approached by a supervisor, "I know you're neurodivergent. I've noticed, and some of the other kids have brought to my attention, that you're experiencing some bullying". And I was awake.

And I'm not exactly sure how the link was made as wakefulness entered my psyche, but it suddenly became intensely clear to me that I had become so accustomed to the critique, the adjustments, the minimising of self...

I spoke the revelation out, and I wept. Because, over the past few weeks, I have been loud, I have been bold. I have been full of life. I have let joy and passion flow through me. And I have been embraced. I have been accepted.

For years, my "romantic" life had entailed making myself small, quiet, and palatable. Less of this. Less of that. Less passion. Less Me. And now it's suddenly flipped and, rather than being suffocated, my energy is being matched.

It was 5am when I awoke from a strange dream where I was oblivious to the bullying which had become so familiar.

It was 5am when I realised I'm free.

[xeroscribed]

Solitude was calling to me. I ignored it.

All the while, in the back of my mind.

I just wanna be alone.

I just wanna be left alone.

Just leave me alone.

Never spoken.

Words I never accepted.

Rejected.

Yet, here I am.

Alone.

Exactly how I need to be.

[xeroscribed]

You.

You don't know it, but I think of you (of us) as I slip into slumber

And when I wake, before word or vision, it's you that floods my mind

I carry you with me in all I do and, even focused on other, the underlying subject is you

And I don't hate it

In fact, I find a great deal of comfort in it, accompanied by your peaceful spirit

You might not know, but I keep you close, in my depths, nestled safely, always with me.

[xeroscribed]

Beached.

Funny that I spake so often of not knowing how to swim

Yet, time again, framed that love as waters; lapping, soaking, wading in

Funny to look back at the words you're immortalised in

And finally see the reality

It was your love I was drowning in

And no, I never learned how to swim.

[xeroscribed]

Hello, again.

I remember, so vividly, the little girl I once was

Buried in books

Studying for fun

Always exploring or creating

Never afraid of hard work

Even cleaning the unthought of parts of the house for the heck of it

I still believe she's in here somewhere

Somewhere under the layer of smog life cast upon her

So rarely did she play or consume

Toys were for the creation of stories

TV scarcely thought of

Excitement came from learning something new and the joy of sharing it

It is not function alone that's found me in this state

Seemingly incapable of lending my mind and attention to something of worth

It is the toll that has been taken

It is the weight of all I've endured that renders me useless

It is the exhaustion from having carried and healed from it all

Now, adult, so conscious and wise

Lost in fog

I know the direction

Just can't seem to find it

And her focus

Her eager desire to dive in

Only a memory to me now

All I'm left with is resistance

And a tiredness uneased by rest

I want be her again

Or at least to know her

To find her within me and dust the soot off

Bring her into the light

Hold her hand

Invite her to share with me the wonder she possesses

To lend me her eyes so that I might see through them

And perhaps find myself in the process

I'll make new introductions

And welcome her home

As she clears a path bringing me back to my core

I'll take up residence in my tender depths

And begin again, restart my life cycle

I will be her

And she'll be with me

And together, we'll make our way to all we were meant to be

We'll marvel at all of the sights we couldn't see

That the averted gaze of avoiding reality had turned a blind eye to

All of the goodness we missed in dodging the bad

Together, we'll live our life again

I'll shield her from that which I've healed

As she guides me through all that imbues us

With the essence of our curious nature

I can see her

The girl I once was

Through the dust clouds and smoke

I reach out a hand to take hers, so familar

And it stays there

Suspended between us

She doesn't recognise this woman before her

She knows better than to leave with strangers

But her curiosity keeps her planted there

And she stares at me, quizzical, searching for answers

Intuitive as always, she seems aware

Of the significance of this meeting between us

I observe

Keep reaching

Awkwardly attempt to embody her spirit

Just hoping that someday she'll finally see me

And recognise the version of her still within me

Hoping that one day she'll take hold of my hand

Inviting me into the space where she stands.

[xeroscribed]

A Day In My Brain.

I just want to let you have a day with my brain

A day with this (dis)function

I can only imagine the horror in store for one so attuned to production

When they find themselves incapable of action

Can you imagine the stress it would cause?

One who decides what to do and then does it

In my place, decides what to do and then doesn't

To tell themselves, "Let's go already!", but instead remain frozen and stunted

I just want you to experience my brain for a day

Actually, maybe even half would do it

To sit down to focus on the simple task chosen

Only to find your brain has switched off

To try even harder to pay attention

Instead met with intensified resistance

I want you to work with my brain for a day

For a glimpse into what living my life is

I don't want sympathy, certainly not seeking praise

I just want you to see, it's not easy for me

And understand the barriers I face

I want you to know that I'm trying

This is not a mere act of defiance

Not all brains are built equal

That my efforts aren't less, they are merely surpressed

That we're working to different timing.

[xeroscribed]

Schrodinger's Feeling.

Sometimes I see love

But I daren't name it, for it is not my place to do so

But I catch glimpses

I often think I feel it

I'm sure it lives here, floating shapeless in the haze of what is and what isn't.

I perceive love, though I do not wait to hear it

My ear no longer pressed to the wall that separates

The human range of experience remains vastly limited

Rarely are we privy to the reality we exist in

So I remain fixed on what I know to be true, that for which I have proof.

[xeroscribed]

So, uhhhh...

I broke

Just like that, huh (definitely not typing rn to try and hold myself together 🙃)

I

Hmm

Fuck

Yeah, there have been signs, and [I really should smoke more] it finally came to a head.

"You're making yourself upset?"

"If I'm hearing wrong, I must be senile/I should go and get my hearing checked."

"Oh, so I'm the reason your life is so bad, am I?"

Etc.

Etc.

Sigh

Well [breathes], I understand my tension, my stress, my inactivity

No, it is not all her.

No, I did not tell her this

I'm kinda just finally realising it

This voice I've been fighting, that's been slowly creeping it's way back into the drivers seat with me lacking awareness of how significant the impact

For a few nights running, early this week, I struggled to sleep. Jerking awake as I dozed off at the sudden incomprehensible rage I heard quietly blaring in the back of my mind, as if in real time.

And I've no idea what words were said, or when. Something like a disembodied voice. An echo of a memory of a moment lived so many times over they've blended to one passage of indistinguishable vitriol hurled over decades with reckless abandon. No words to be placed but the undeniable cadence of the maternal howl. [Gone the wonder of why I excel at recognising voices].

.

The agonising pleading with the girl in the mirror, only increasing; I know that you're in there, so why won't you listen?

The constant convincing still so unconvincing

.

The frustration at the name in the bubble of notification. The constant exhaustion. The tension. The waning of patience.

There, you see...

I'm feeling okay.

Breathing somewhat steadily

Declining heart rate.

I'm straight.

So there was a moment. And-

A less evolved version of me would think my ma did it on purpose to force interaction or just to be petty.

Because after days on end of getting it right, she somehow gets it wrong. And gets me. In a gesture way off.

But...

I'm above that line of thinking and it helps me not

Fuck it.

Either way, interaction was had. A question asked. A tone misperceived. A flame thrown back. Which, at this moment - too hot to handle. But I do. Unsteady-like until I catch myself and...

I calmly highlight, yet again, this problem I'm having [we're having, but i digress]

See

Ffs

It's so frustrating

Yes, this is gaslighting.

But being gaslit by a person who doesn't actually understand that they're doing it.

Who is so trauma bound that they would swear blind if anyone were doing the harm it is you.

For being tense like you are. For avoidance. For snapping sometimes. For addressing the issue.

Here. I have to lead with understanding first. I have to moderate her emotions and redirect her to the topic at hand and manage her way of thinking and reiterate my point and do it all calm, don't dare raise your voice and-

Fuck

I have been thinking and writing in this stupid lyrical manner. This sing-song nursery rhyme bullshit.

Last night, for some reason, recollections of past traumas. Of hygiene. Of solitude. Of lessons in abandon.

Things I am still ashamed of.

But wish to speak on. Because there are so many of us. Hidden. Getting by

Getting on. Battling our demons.

Some, like me, still living with them. At least... that's what she thinks. I don't share the opinion.

I said I broke. It was... incredibly emotional and vulnerable and-

You can't show your pain because it's seen as a tool to make them feel guilty and feel like the fool so they flip it back on you without a care what you've said coz it's easier to claim they'd be better of dead than to take a step back and to listen instead.

I heard you I heard you. Then exaggerates context. Exaggerates impact. Inflates the intent and warps it to suit their ego.

.

This is the matter at hand. This is the plainness of speech. This is the intent.

Do not take to heart the things you think that I meant.

Do not ruminate on your past wounds or fears of your failure [the ones I'm beginning to share].

Do not put on me all the harm of past aggressors. Of the attitudes I've shed. Of the fallacies in your head.

.

"Well, I can't help it, can I!?"

I ask you, who can?

If not you than who?

Not seeking apology. Don't want you to feel bad.

Just asking you to see me as I truly am.

See the work I've put in. See the intention within. See the years of the patience and commitment that's been repairing this ship, drawing us closer, trying to establish something vaguely familial.

.

Yet you see me. Villain. Who hates. And spits sin. Who lies and denies you your right to feeling.

.

Here am I sharing this ache in my chest, this knot in my gut, and this pit in my head.

"It's always about what I'm doing to you!".

I've had an ear worm lately: "I need you, too". Still don't know what it means. Don't think I'm meant to. Not ready yet.

.

You ever notice when one has just formed?

"You're upsetting yourself/You're getting yourself upset."

Because everything is always repeated. They want you convinced.

That's the moment I realised the futility of going further. I'd said what I'd said. Clarified. Reiterated. Took my time. Found my patience.

I stopped. Composed myself. Said goodnight.

Again: Please remember the words that I've said. Please do not focus on what you think I meant.

A final attempt to beg. To plead. That she'll hear me this time.

Coz its taking it's toll. On my soul.

Oh yeah, that's the revelation.

See

That voice is winning. My energy waning. My faith fading. My hope withered.

And instead of knowing I'm good and great, I'm trying repetition hoping the thought integrates.

Like it had before.

But I'm battling two voices.

Both equal in strength.

One cultivated by me, with unending resistance.

The other, nurtured and festered inside. The one I seek to hide.

I

Had manage to quell it, pushed it to the side.

I was golden. Confident. I'd finally found pride.

And now both the knowing and the fearing have taken up residence. Battling it out for the number one spot.

And as I look out, I see the crowd forming.

The faces of friends. Some clear as day. Some so distant.

Some I can hear. Some I just get a glimpse of. But what carries through; words of love and peer wisdom.

That's one side. With the sun. With the me fueled by loving.

.

The other. Barren. Cept for one figure.

One I try not to witness til she toes the line to the sunny side. A gift yet a rarity.

Typically, she resides in the shady seats but stays squinting. The most notable impression of the twisted expression.

Some days are more dreary. And I can't see her clearly. But her voice steady travels on the wind and whips through me.

.

I watch these two battle it out - the crowd cheering.

But that voice doesn't shout. It whispers so clearly.

And the wounded looks through you: I know you can hear me.

.

Those supporters, so loving, well their chants are drowned out. And the two are left standing in a haze of pure doubt.

Neither sure. Both uncertain. Of which one will win.

Sometimes I think it's a matter of time.

Eventually the clock runs out and the stands will be missing their most loyal voyeur.

All that will remain will be sunshine and well wishes.

But its not really so dire. I suppose.

I recognise now what has it's hand round my throat.

May I not amplify it.

May I stand by the sunny side and know that clouds pass and find my place in the rain.

Let it wash over and all that malarkey.

So much has been said. So much I will probably read again and find lacking sense.

But you cannot tame a beast you have not named and I've named it. I know it. And I'm bound to defeat it.

So fuck it.

In the meantime, keep it going.

Find peace. Things will improve. It's just trauma. Not you.

You're better for knowing.

[xeroscribed]

Back to (far from) Basics.

Peculiar, to think back on my activity over the past few years

Confessions in the form of declarations of love

Realisations turned detriment, bringing new revelations with it

Shifting from one to self to one to prior

I dare not read back through the sprawl of emotions and ill-informed decisions and countless misconceptions

I do not need explicit detail to know deeply that journey

Still, coming full circle, skipping over muddle in middle and reading what came before

Writing as I do now

Seeing the space between dissipate as I return to a state never truly left

When you lack understanding and practical example of what is good and healthy, you're bound to make mistakes

Fail to understand what is good as valid

Fail to see the damage of the validation of wishes

Expectations formed in developing mind

Expecting true love yet undeniably blind

To the nuance and nature of that one can trust

Too caught up in the romance considered a must

I look back at the echo of sentiments I'm currently expressing

I don't know what the future holds but I've done away with guessing

What I do know is I do have something consistent

So no longer may I linger in a space so resistant.

[xeroscribed]

Nauseous

"Positive thoughts"

Like the words aren't echoing through my head

And even when i manage to distract my conscious thought

They rattle around my bones

Pulse in my veins

Tear through my flesh

Regardless of what occupies my mind

I know what i know

Im aware

A lifetime of the same story by different folks arise

I dont have to think on it

I dont have to ruminate

The aching well that resides within has awakened

Fills me

"Have a good weekend, please"

Something you ignorantly believe to be possible

Protected by your naivety when it comes to people like me

Uneducated on the realities of trauma

The repeated critique of everything you are and all others expect you to be

You wouldn't know

You couldn't

Can't begin to imagine

So rest easy, enjoy yourself, put it out of your mind

This conversation meant little to you

So youre doing just fine

And you expect me to do the same

You assume that it's possible

All you said, you'll soon forget

Yet i remember each instance

Trust when i say i dont want to

Its not something ive chosen

But it's been battered - it's been buried into my soul over time

There's no escape, no compromise

Certainly no understanding

But at least one of us is still feeling alright