Notes from a delirium

it hurts to breath it hurts to type the pain is agonising my hands are shaking my ribs its like having knives stuck inside me and when I breath the blades rub my flesh I am aware of my ribs the shape the pressure I cannot breath the pain it hurts feels like I’ve broken every bone in my body I want to die I cant move but then I have to move to stop the pain but I cant move because it hurts too much I feel like an anorexic when she lies on a bed and you know the mattress presses on her bones my hip is like ripping through my skin I’m going to bruise I’m going to bleed I want to bleed because then I’ll know this is real is this real what time is it I cant sleep because of the pain but I need to sleep through the pain its too strong it hurts the pressure of my own body on the bones how can we carry such weight why wont it just stop please just let it kill me I want to die because I’m already dying I must be dying to feel this torture I cant take anymore please somebody stop me please if I could move I would end it aid the pain cause more to end it I no I don’t really want to but I just want this to stop please find me please save me can’t you see I’m dying I need to go to a hospital but they cant do anything no one can stop the pain no one understands this isn’t real is it this is just pure pain

pain

(copyrighted - written and owned by Sarah Andrews)

Prologue to my book 'Butterfly'

To be weightless, to feel nothing, to be free, is something I yearn for. It’s like the ocean is a metaphor of me; all calm and wonderful when the waves sing harmoniously together because everything works, their process is unnoticed, just a simple language that continues in verse. But then the storm comes, no longer can the sea be ignored. It is waging a war on the rocks and cliffside, eating away at their foundations, whilst having an internal battle. Currents mixing, waves colliding; harmonious no longer, but an object of chaos and destruction.

My body is fighting against itself. Inside I am a raging storm yet outside I'm as calm as a pristine ice lake; frozen and immaculate, a perfect representation of a human.

And yet I am not perfect. No one is perfect. This world is not perfect. Genetically we know this, as we can see the anomalies in everyday life; the sick, the blind, the mentally handicapped. Then there are conditions of the body that are psychological like anorexia, bulimia and depression. There are the critical and medically serious conditions, which are common, but that still doesn't take away the fear we each have when the word "cancer" is uttered. However, there are medical conditions that are hidden and unknown - not just by the general public but also by doctors and specialists. Symptoms and diagnosis left unclear is what makes these conditions secret; they take awhile to emerge, to surface, and to spread into common knowledge.

A medical condition called Fibromyalgia is one of those secrets.

(copyrighted - written and owned by Sarah Andrews)

The touch of a butterfly

People do not know and people cannot see
This constant hurt that resides deep within me.
Though looks can be deceiving, I should know
As these cracking bones continue to give me woe.

One minute I’m down, the next I’m up,
Hidden beneath an exterior façade that keeps me locked up,
Caged as a prisoner I stand alone;
My walls are joints, ligaments and bone.

Forgotten are words, memories from long ago,
It’s hard to stare at you whose name I do not know.
Disturbed by insomniac moments my dreams are rare,
But what I do see is a girl who is immensely aware
Of the shakes, the quakes, the annoying mistakes;
Underneath the shell she’s crying oceans not lakes.

Life goes on and people wonder why
She can’t walk a mile; hold a box – just stands gazing at the sky;
Thinking of a time when she never felt abnormally sore,
So tired from the agony she wished could be no more.

What’s worse is no one can tell, no one knows,
This pain is deep, everywhere, even in her tippy toes.
Like broken jigsaw pieces scattered throughout the lands,
Her mind is addled, witness as the numbness spreads to her hands.

24/7 this pain will never wear off,
Feels bruised and damaged, an insignificant moth;
Tries to continue, persevere to go on,
Yet she conceals a secret something very wrong;

Her body is weak, mental ability weary,
Open your eyes understand, see clearly;
I will never be the same no matter how hard I try,
With Fibromyalgia this pain is real, even from the touch of a butterfly.

(copyrighted - written and owned by Sarah Andrews)