I’m sorry
For not being creative enough
Expressive enough
Loud enough
Enough
Just enough
Was I enough?
But I know it didn’t matter
Doesn’t matter
I will stay
And I will leave
I’ll find my way
Right between these piles & piles of scattered timelines and broken promises
I need you
I need to find you
Again
Like I did
All those years ago
All those tears ago
You
Are
Me
Me.
A guest post.
Begun with a bang,
Still dreaming about a mustang,
Not yet woke,
Oh this poor bloke.
A guest post.
Over the past year, I was working with women situationed in a fragile, perilous situation, one that people without privilege so often find themselves in. This was in a therapeutic context, & the first thing to hit me when I went in there, was that their ’needs’ could not be more removed from the so-called domain of mental health. This was a systemic issue, a societal failure, one that required patriarchy to be addressed and policies to be changed.
...A guest post.
Under our Mental Health Campaign, we provide aid to people in many ways such as counselling, support group and the buddy system.
...A guest post.
The world i see is a dull shade of grey that covers the walls of a sad and lonely hospital hallway leading to the morgue. My world is, in fact, just like those walls. Holding days and nights of painful cries and worried thoughts. Hope for the best but no hope at all too. Feeling the slaps and pounds of the empty, lost and saddened. My world, just like those walls, has a not so happy ending. The colors of these walls switch to a dark ugly grey when the sun sets and returns to a light ugly grey when it rises and I’ve forgotten the other colors that used to exist, that adorn the walls of playrooms, ice cream cafes, art museums and my world. I sit in my dark room most of the times, under my blanket shivering from the cold my body is generating, to fill the void that is now a gaping hole in my chest and I’m relieved to not see anymore grey. I stare at the light from my ringing phone, waiting for the person calling to give up already, stop interrupting my dark and cause the return of the grey but they don’t. My dark is granted back to me and I stare at my neglected phone, hoping to hear another ring, but dreading it all the same.
...
