Category: diary-entry
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Is it normal to know you’re suppressing your emotions and being unable to stop? I know when I’m intellectualising. I know when I’m masking. I know when I’m making myself smaller and staying quiet. I almost understand why. So why can’t I stop? They say awareness is the first step… Yet I feel like I’ve…
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Lonely. Loneliness makes me believe I am not worth knowing, that my thoughts aren’t worth hearing, that I should stay quiet, that I shouldn’t rely on someone, that my silence is easier. And I can’t write anything because I just have this block in my head that says no one – not even myself- wants…
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She swamAnd swamI had to look more than once She had a rock on her backHer arms swung in what looked like perfect rhythmHer legs kicked too But she wasn’t equipped for the waterSalt stung her eyesThe current pushed her sideways, back,Never forward Every breath she took, Water invaded,Burning her lungs She kept moving anywayLike muscle…
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Should I be about to open the floodgates to my emotions whilst sat in a coffee shop after ignoring them for over a week? No. Probably not. But here I am, about to do it anyway. I have no hope. No happiness. I am just a shell of a human. In fact, I’m just a…
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I was never meant to live this long and now I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing with my life. People want me to plan for a future that’s five, ten years ahead. But I can barely see tomorrow. I don’t have a single thing planned out. I can’t imagine the future. It all…
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I feel as though I am seen as the person miles away from who I am. I’m seen as someone who doesn’t question things, who copes, who doesn’t complain too much, who only shares her opinion when asked and knows when to stop sharing. Whether I’m seen as that person by design to protect myself…
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Everything I enjoy feels like a lie. It feels as though I’m acting out a script I didn’t write or have a say in but find myself acting it out anyway. Everything feels rehearsed. “Do I even like this?” Or do I just like the idea of being someone who does? Flowers, music, clothes, books…
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I’m going to call myself a liar. I was going to start this the same way I start every entry lately, that I can’t write, that I don’t know what to write about. But the truth is, I have been avoiding writing and feeling. I have been so busy with life that I just refused…
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I have been struggling with what I want to write about for weeks. Which makes sense now because I don’t think I understood what I was actually feeling. I’ve been wanting to reflect on something. To write an essay. But nothing has felt inspiring. My brain hasn’t felt stimulated or much… Satisfaction? Satisfaction with any…
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Authors Note: I almost didn’t share this.It feels unfinished. Messy. A little too close to the surface. These are entries written across a few weeks. Captured as they happened, without much editing or distance. This space was never meant to be filled with polished thoughts or neat conclusions.It’s meant to hold moments like this –…
Becoming, Lucy 