of all the things i have lost i miss my fucking sanity the most.
this fever is lawless the way it siezes my brain hostage, shoving degree celsius after degree celsius at me and i am screaming screaming screaming limbs too weak to flail and the words that fall out of my parched lips are tearful prayers to gods i do not believe in. this is what desperation tastes like: the way my sweat ransom is not enough to set me fucking free, the way my body crumples and falls to ground when the cool water i used to frolick in bites against my skin, no longer gentle kisses running away the magma mount in my head. desperation is the way i wear my thickest jacket in singapore’s fucking weather ot the way i force myself to sweat till i am blind or the way i force myself to cry. women earn 79 cents to every dollar a man earns, my vision is barbercue hazed while my stomach sloshes, a sick sound that threatens to let itself be heard and i wish i was dead. they say everyone is afraid of death and i want to laugh because i crave death the way you crave life.
why dont you kill yourself then? they whisper and i am buzzed.
i fear pain. i would rather be dead than writhing in bed, ghostly images telling me that have me thrashing in bed like the wild animal i am.
there is a dull pounding against my head, thud thud thud until it bounces off the hollow of my sky, ringing like the crow’s cry on summer’s evening. there is a judge with a gavel in his hand and with every thought of /i must give up/ he strikes a wooden mark, /this is where the world does not wait for you/, his gavel whispers, husky crackle amplifying until my head is flooded with sound waves.
there is a lava trail down my cheek.
my heart is as heavy as my schoolbag and the guilt from yet-to-be-forged test papers. these days slipping into my depression is as easy as sleeping into my problems. look on the bright side they say, so i do. my australian friend sleeps six hours on a regular basis but here in singapore i sleep four hours. (three in the morning and one in lectures because my eyes are weighed down by the weariness bore from days of juggling a test every other day. my stomach churns like the sea deranged, slosh slosh slosh and i have to press my lips together lest oceans pour out of my eyes and rivers up my parched throat.) dreaming is a foreign concept but when i do i see quiet, hear the way the sky is blue and the grass, green, and i can feel the sweetness in the air and taste the joy in my heart.
when i come to, my pillow is damp.
i plunge headfirst into schoolwork.
I AM BEING EXECUTED for letting my frittered, frantic brain take a break when there are two tests next week. when there is no homework you must assign more for yourself because here in college you are an adult who has
only one a choice to work to the bone hard or prioritise your mental health be lazy.
MAY IS MENTAL HEALTH AWARENESS month and the school prattles about
trivializing/generalising mental health patients such as myself when they don’t know what it’s like to be us how to help your friend if she’s depressed and anxious! they end it off with a sale of overpriced and unethical cute socks and half assed online stolen beautiful calligraphy notebooks. i’m extremely thrilled to know how i have no place in society heartened that we do so much to help the mentally ill, even if autism is a joke, triggers are h-i-l-a-r-i-o-u-s, and r*t*rded is a part of everyone’s lexicon.
more thrilled, that the school play this year is titled triggered and i’m an overly sensitiive social justice warrior/snowflake/feminazi when it screams far right republican ideal!
the world is ablaze: it scorches my skin