Sleeping is for wusses part 2

So, the inability to remain unconscious for any period of time despite my begging continues. Now I have pretty pills for that too, though I am too afraid to take them.

Anyway, I came across this old thing while wading through some stuff and although it is poorly written, it somehow captures the mood. By the way Charlie, this one was for you.

p.s. I am pretty sure that "Insomniatic" is not a real word, but fuck off. I will make up words if I want to, it's called 'creative license' people.

Filthy Dreams

He says when it rains
He can’t get out of bed
Funny my friend
Rain’s the only thing
That lets me sleep
It cools the fire
Under my skin
And melts the demons
Running free

Somewhere deep within
The smoke and sounds
Lies the outline of something
Beautiful and true
I'm always looking for
But not yet found
I’m counting on my guilty conscience
To save me from myself

In these endless
Cloak and dagger nightmares
I burry my wounds
In the burning flesh
At my feet
The effigy no one sees
You think you know
But you'll never be as full of filth as me.

Whatever good we might have been
Is all gone now, all gone now
All that’s left are these
Insomniatic nights and dawns and nights and dawns…

But I don’t scream like I used to
No more unconscious tears get through
I don’t cut like I used to
No more kitchen-knife wrist meeting midnights.

And maybe that's progress
Like the same devil
Only whose face is the change
These projected torments
Words repeated in cycle
But the meaning is rearranged

So let's try to get some sleep
In this window
While we're still able
To fade off into the nothingness
That encompasses all I need
Before all that’s left are these
Insomniatic nights and dawns and nights and dawns…

Sleeping is for wusses

It's 7 a.m. and I've another sleepless night behind me.

I try to reason with the irrational feeling of bricks falling on my head, but all of my efforts are for nothing. There is no sense to it and yet some kind of twisted logic I can't seem to defeat.

I am grateful only that the mad machine driving this particular bout with insomnia and serious anxiety does not last longer than it does. Otherwise I might spiral into another full-blown episode. As it stands, I am figuring that my current disorder is finite in time. I anticipate relief in mid-November, providing that it doesn't fuck things up for me so thoroughly that I have to go through this nightmare again. That idea makes me want to drown in a pool full of pills.

Happy thoughts for a monday morning.

your kids are not a lamp you can throw against a wall

As a victim of child abuse, I read this article and shook my head.
Is it true? Of course it is.
Is it horrible? Fucking right.

But so what? Really, the information contained in this article is nothing new. Just as very little contained in the 34 page report, which can be found here isn't that surprising either. I still recommend taking the time to read it, though. You might be surprised by the sick acts many governments and societies permit.

During most of the years that I was abused, I lived in a wealthy town. We moved there because my parents didn't want my sister growing up in a city. They wanted a more safe environment for her. Uh-huh. What good does a supposedly safe environment outside the door do for anybody if what's inside the door is this bad?

It pisses me off that people move to these towns and villages and small suburban cities as gestures of protection 'for the kids'. In an attempt to meld into the perfect middle class life everyone seems to want. And in doing so appear to buy into the idea of 'our community'.

When Emily and I told our teachers that we had been held captive and sexually assaulted on school grounds, they told us we were wrong. That such things don't happen in "our community" (and yes folks, that is an exact quote).


Since I have left, I have been regaled with stories from many people who experienced horrible horrible things while living in 'our community'. And none of us were heard or beleived or assisted. If I were to tell you some of those stories your head might fly around in disbeleif at how extreme some of these experiences were, and the lengths to which authorities would go to in order to effect satisfactory rejections of the truth.

I tell myself that that town simply suffers from an extreme case of denial. I tell myself that it is not like that elsewhere. But I know that it is. Because that's what it is to be a child. It is to be ignored, marginalised, belittled, suspected of deception. And that is the single reason I got up every day for all of those years, because I vowed that one day it would not be so and that I would be an impetus for change.

I have not yet succeded. But that does not mean that we should all not try to be vehicles of change, particularly change for the most vulnerable members of our society. I liked the quote in the article that children and youths should not be viewed as mini-humans with inferior rights, simply because they are more marginalised. We need, as a species to try at least, to make things better, to make voices heard. It is our responsability as adults, as the group with the power to make a difference, in 'our communities' and around the world.

If you have the ability, please consider volunteering with big brothers or big sisters, taking in a foster child, or working troubled youths through organizations like PLEA.

Thanks.