My pain is invisible.

I wish I could say I don’t care. That I don’t want people to see it anyway.

I said something today and someone replied “He doesn’t look depressed, does he look depressed to you A?”
A answers “no” and we all laughed about it.

But really I just thought to myself “fuck if you know”

I put on this face of a clown, all jokey. My mind is a very busy place. I fidget, I grab anything in my sight, I rock, I sniff things, I point out all the birds going by. I collect the feathers on the ground. I make jokes. I sort of enjoy myself but it’s limited inside to how much i actually enjoy myself. There is a wall i hit where I go no further to enjoyment.

And then I sit back after the events of the day and I think to myself “no one sees, no one knows”

And I hear all these stories of people around me, of times when they were ill and how they did all these weird things that eventually got them back in hospital….

Meanwhile, i’m just going along in life. and everyone thinks I struggle, but that i do okay with it. I manage it. On the quiet I’ve got ropes made into different kinds of nooses, I sit in chairs with them round my neck and sometimes I tighten them and sometimes I tighten them till I can feel the lack of oxygen getting to my brain, and the world is fading from me and I can’t breathe and i can feel myself choking. And then I loosen the noose and then I see my neck and you can see the outline of the rope. And then I go to bed, it doesn’t matter what time of day it is, i go to bed and i sleep through to the next day and then I greet the same support workers, the same neigbours and I joke again, and I point out the birds, and I rock back and forth, and i fidget, and i drive them crazy maybe, but they find it kind of funny so they stick around to see what I might say or come up with next. I say innapropiate things, people pause, then they laugh and say “Trust you, Matt!” And I laugh along with them. And i repeat this cycle. Sometimes I rock faster to deal with the pysical pain aswell as the soothing it has on me mentally, i rock faster to distract myself from the stomache aches, the back ache, the bone pains. And they take it as a sign of energy, or anxiety, so they might ask i’m okay, and i say i’m okay, so they take it as a burst of energy. And I continue joking. And then I go back inside to my flat and I think to myself, “just another day where no one knows” and i drown in myself. And I want to scream, I want to cry, I want to open the door the next day and have a visual break down in front of everyone, I want to close my door and shout “I don’t wanna see any of you! I don’t wanna see you! YOu hate me!” but i know i won’t. I know I’ll greet them the same, I’ll put on my clown mask, I’ll point out the birds, i’ll tell them random facts about them, i’ll show them my feather collection, I’ll show them my branch collection, I’ll make dirty jokes. I’ll ask the support worker if so and so is okay because “they seem quiet today” and I ask because it haunts me, because my senses are overwhelmed and now i feel overwhelmed by someone else not seeming okay. And I want them to say “They’re okay” but they say “they’re fine” and i know they’re not, I know they’re lying because really it’s none of my business, it’s confidentiality. So it haunts me. I don’t want the details, I understand those things called boundaries. But…. I just want to know people are okay. And they’re not okay. And i’m not okay. And nothing is okay. and everything is closing in on me. And this is life with my brain and I want the world to stop, I want to crack my head open and take all my thoughts out, all my senses. I want to drown in my own brain residue.

I get interested in something and then I think “No, no! No! I don’t have room!” “What about the birds? What about learning about them? what about writing?” It panics me. I don’t have room. I don’t have room inside my head. I don’t have room for all these people, i don’t have room for myself. I’m trapped.
I’m like an enlarged intestine trying to burst out of a stomach.


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