The Big Black Cat

The big black cat

Sometimes the big black cat comes and sits on you constantly. Your subconscious is screaming at you to get up and do something but you cant move.

It’s like someone you love telling you to put your hand on a hot stove but you know you physically can’t.

It’s like trying desperately to light your favourite candle and keep the fire burning but the wick is at its end.

You sit and you wait for the inspiration and motivation to come to you and get you going again yet even when it does it doesn’t last long.

You look at everyone else in your life and wish, constantly comparing.

And the guilt hits, hits hard, but you, you shouldn’t be wishing this. your life is fine other people have it way worse, why are you complaining about them they are trying their hardest, why aren’t you doing your work your going to fail why aren’t you getting out of bed?! no! I don’t care if your tired! I don’t care if you’re hurting! You’re going to fail! You need to get the fuck up! Get up! GET UP! GET THE FUCK UP!

I cant.

I cant get up.

I’m stuck.

Im stuck sitting there and staring at the work my mind blank and my body willing to but making no progress to move and try do it, the need to distract myself instead with mind numbing activities.

I cant think. I cant read. I cant work. I can bleed.

I bled.

I used to paint.

I painted a beautiful shade of red that would dot my skin in beautiful lines that painted my pain into this gorgeous piece of existence. my pain, wasn’t only mental anymore. The artwork I no longer create and yet, sometimes I wish I could take out that silver paintbrush and start anew without feeling the dark, sickening feeling of guilt climbing up my throat and spewing out my mouth in the sound of sobs and screams while the thoughts of people, people I love who may not understand stream through my head pushing me to a halt.

I cant paint anymore.

And yet when the cat gets nudged and it begins to stir you start panicking. It cant move now. Not after everything it’s put me through. That would mean It’s all for nothing. It needs to stay. So you begin to find an odd sense of comfort within being with the cat, and the suffocation starts to feel like home.

I wish

Knowing what I know now, I wish

I wish I had hugged her alittle tighter

Held her a little longer.

Now when she hugs me it’s not the same

Knowing this causes my heart pain.

‘I still have feeling for them’ she says

Breaking my heart into two.

Knowing what I know now, I wish

I wish I had waited

Maybe she would’ve healed and loved me fully

Maybe she would’ve not liked me at all

But I wouldn’t feel as stupid as I do now

Waiting to see if she’ll call

Now She loves not me but another. And so I sit and wait and wish.

Wish I had savoured that one last kiss.

- @elladorathegreat

Reblog to put one of these in your mutuals’ pocket when they’re not looking

y'all know deepthroat by cupcakke? enough said.

“you’re so matured for your age” thanks it was the trauma

Lydia: How did you get in?

Negan, smiling slightly: Door was unlocked. You might want to watch that, Daryl. Someone dangerous could get in.

Daryl: Or someone formerly dangerous and currently just annoying.