Petition to plain Jane

Subject: WHAT ARE YOU DOING WITH YOUR LIFE ALL IN SHAMBLES

Petition to plain Jane over there with the wounded inner child

To whom it may concern,
(you know very well who you are)

It has unfashionably late come to my attention
That the precarious conditions in which plain Jane’s inner child has grown
Are, simply put, outrageous.

23 years of
self-scrutiny,
self-hatred and
feelings of personal inadequacy
with no ounce of self-compassion
while your inner child cowers away in the least tainted corner of your mind,
suffering through your self-victimization episodes
—no matter how seemingly valid—
have been more than enough.

I, the undersigned,
therefore request immediate measures be taken
to ensure the safety of the aforementioned child.

Should necessary measures fail to be immediately implemented,
I reserve the right to file a complaint with the child protective services.

Signed,
Get yourself together already before you turn into a Jane Doe
Plain and simple
Jane

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feels good to be alive

I wanted to end it all yesterday,
Have some sense of agency at least over one small aspect of my life,
But then I ate an ice cream and the end of the cone had more chocolate
Than I usually get,
So
I felt overjoyed!
Feels good to be alive.

For now.

I wanted to end it all yesterday,
I’ve had it with all these 23 springs and summers and autumns and winters
And springs and winters and summers and autumns
And winters and autumns and summers and springs
Of mental illness.
But then I went outside, rode my penny board
And the smell of the linden trees after a May shower
Enveloped me in a hug.
(Heavens know how touch starved I am.)
Feels good to be alive.

For now.

I wanted to end it all yesterday,
Pull the plug on this miserable existence,
But then I rode my bike on empty neighbourhood streets,
Saw the stormy clouds get a tint of peachy cotton candy sunlight
As the sun retreated in the face of impending doom.
Silver lining for a solid 150 seconds.
Feels good to be alive.

For now.

I wanted to end it all yesterday,
Silence the impostor claiming my bones,
Cut the strings pulling me every which way,
One day up for show, faking a smile,
The next hidden away in the dreadful box
Of self-consciousness, anxiety and it which shall not be named
(The skeleton in my closet).
But then I went to the park,
Sat on a wooden bench, feet drowning in concrete,
And looked to the sky,
Heard the vivacious trills of nightingales,
And the occasional crow cawing,
Interspersed with an ever so vibrant “cuck-oo”.
Feels good to be alive.

For now.

I wanted to end it all yesterday,
But there’s still
The small things in life.
Feels good to be alive.

For now.

– Patricia

How to. Guide to best self

There once was a house with plenty of square metres—
Maybe somewhere around 23.
With a barbed wire fence made of limestone and concrete,
Not too short, not too tall: in-between.
With windows smudged with tar for precaution,
Averting the curious eyes.
With minefields for grass for whoever trespasses.
(Or tries to walk out unallowed.)

Inside, there are posters of pivotal moments,
Food to some succulent worms.
And a bed with a mattress that’s home to small bed bugs
Which come out at night for a treat.
The walls are all reeking of fresh paint and… vomit?
*sniff* Gastric juice—could use more.
4.5/5 stars: cozy, fun, love it!
Minus the still functioning doors.

Ooh, piles of dishes, all dirty and mouldy,
A chair with one leg! And… a broom?
No, no, no, that won’t do… But at least there’s no dustpan.
How else can you lie down and brood?
While dust travels slooowly but surely. towards you
To cover the mess that you are?
Good that there’s spider webs woven with wryness,
10/10 would recommend.

One-way ticket only. A bargain now, really!
Better yet—why not DIY?
Takes a lifetime to build though, but once it’s completed,
It’s all yours forever. How fun!

– Patricia