Always swayed by the outside world by others expectations like a ship without an anchor.

Yet I do have an anchor that which stops me spinning off into... That which makes me feel sick with anxiety every morning, that which sends the thoughts spinning, sucking me in to their whirlpool.

I feel like my my being is bristling with nerve endings.

Yet I feel like I am trapped inside a shell, I bubble and simmer away in there all the movement makes me feel sick and the fear of exploding makes me clutch the lid on tighter.

I never got a chance to find out how to just be. I have created characters for as long as I can remember. To protect myself and as a shield for dealing with the outside world.

I have been numb, completely without emotion. To feel nothing or to feel everything. At least with everything other people can relate. With the nothing... Help, I need help but I am dead and cold inside, I have no feelings to name so I have no words to start to describe what,s going on but I know it's not good and I think it might hurt 'cos I'm drinking till I throw up blood, revolted by my body and pulling everyone in to the surface of my character, creation, flirting, seductive but then terror pushes back, I am hurting.

Now I feel like I can't hold things in like that before, like the pressure was too much and the surface burst. I did a patch up job but it's a bit like my waterproof trousers with the gaffa tape on. I need to keep an eye on the repair or all the stuff of years might burst out in one go...

I am so scared of how my variety of crazy can hurt others.

I think part of my numbing was in attempt to deal with the intense pain of losing my sister through a sea of drugs and ECT if I stare really deep into her eyes at the right moment I can catch a glimpse, she is there and feel... nothing, everything, nostalgia, sadness, love, anger, things that I don't know words for which go off into spinning cycles inside shaking up the sickness and hooking into the 'I don't feel real and it's really freaking me out'.

But the thing is I'm ok. I try not to let people close enough to see the look of crazy when things start to boil, the tears that wont come with my old friend numb and the desire to smash my head until I feel or stop feeling or... Just something that's not an extreme.

And the medicine works, it's brilliant. Then my insides become accustomed and revert back to functioning on 'fucked up' because the paths are so well worn over so many years that they can always be found.

But I am not totally broken in fact maybe I am fine, maybe everyone functions like this. When it's all you know you presume it's normal. It takes something pretty extreme to convince you it's maybe not.

Or maybe it is ok, the world is fucked up I know that and I can't even squeeze into the mould to pretend. I am skulking around don't fit, don't fit, would be nice just to blend in somewhere sometimes.