I’m trying not to be
so hard on myself as much.
I think I should begin to cut myself
a little slack, you know?

I should start giving myself more time.
Because this stuff, this life stuff, takes time
I need to allow myself to breathe a little –
I need to allow myself time to take it all in.


I don’t know.
I think that I’ve always been my own hero,
in my own way.
My own rock.
Always and without fail.

It created an unhealthy space in my head.
A space where I didn’t forgive myself when I made mistakes.
A space where the self-hate was born and allowed to thrive.
A space where I had no option but to be extremely harsh with myself.

That space

That space was a necessary evil, I think.
That space reminded me that I am all I have.
That space reminded me to keep at it.
Keep being your own rock.

I’ve always had an anchor, though.
Something to say “woah there”
when I slip into that darkness.

But I’ve lost that now.
And now the darkness has settled in,
made itself a little nest in my mind.

The strongest force
that has kept me sane for so long
– my anchor – is gone.
It’s gone.

I have to anchor myself.
I have no anchor so I have to step up to the plate
and be exactly that for myself.
I am all that I have.

I have to keep myself grounded.
I have to keep myself from spiralling.
I have to do that.

I can’t help but feel scared.
I never admit to feeling scared,
no, that’s never been me.
I’ve always stared my demons straight in the eye.

And this isn’t me trying to run or hide,
don’t get it twisted. I just,
I just need to regroup.
I’m gathering myself, I think.

Because what do you do
when the one thing
that’s always made sense,
that’s always been solid,
just stops?

Not even a gradual stop, no.
I’m talking about that abrupt stop
that shoots you straight
out the windscreen.
A loud and violent stop.

A stop that makes a bang so loud
that it constantly replays in your mind.
That bang, it haunts you.
Keeps you awake at night,
constantly reminding you
of its existence and impact
and might.

So much so, that it makes you shiver
when you hear thunder.
It’s just stuck in my mind.

Tell me then …
What do you do?
I think that you should stay down.
I need you to understand me…

You simply stay down.
You don’t get up until you figure out
what the next step is.
You don’t get up until you figure out
how to be your own anchor.

You don’t get up until the sound stops
because that sound, that sound is crippling.
You don’t get up until you accept
that you’re all alone.

Because you are.
You’re alone