Venting Does anybody write?

[Preh1storic_Rib]

I've always found reading and writing about suicide, depression, etc. to be really cathartic, so I was curious if anyone here wanted to share some prose. Your own or other's words, just give credit where its due please.

I'll update this eventually with some of my own when inspiration strikes, but for now its all on other platforms and I'd rather not link myself to anywhere.
Tagged vent for that reason and the general topic vibe

 

[TransilvanianHunger]

I do. I used to write a lot when I was younger, and I've been trying to get back into the habit. It is usually just stream-of-consciousness stuff about whatever I'm thinking about in the moment. A few days ago I was reading a paper on schizoid personality dynamics, and it helped me reflect on some aspects of my therapeutic process, for example:

"Empathic therapists working with schizoid clients often find themselves either initiating or responding to conversations about music, the visual arts, the dramatic arts, literary metaphors, anthropological discoveries, historical events, or the ideas of religious and spiritual thinkers. In contrast to obsessional patients, who avoid emotion by intellectualizing, schizoid patients may find it possible to _express_ affect once they have the intellectual vehicle in which to do so." (McWilliams, 2006, p. 17)

I have often wondered about my tendency to speak in this way in analysis, making references to music, philosophy, or art. I am aware of the pitfalls of intellectualising as a defence against engaging honestly with affect, but I also believe I am honest enough with myself to know whether that is what I'm doing or not. In most cases, I do not think it is intellectualising but rather simply finding some intellectual reference which might help me articulate what I want to say in a way that makes sense. [My analyst] usually allows me to do this. Only a handful of times she has called my attention to it, and in those occasions I do find that I speak in abstract, intellectual terms to avoid saying something. It is comforting to see that she can actually tell the difference.

 

[Plato'sCaveDweller]

I used to write almost every day about whatever kind of philosophical thoughts I happened to be thinking of at the time. Anything from aphorisms to essays about a specific topic I felt strongly about, like suicide or suffering. The creative juices used to just flow. It really did feel cathartic to get it all out. And the best part about writing is you can continuously revise until it is absolutely perfect. You can get real prosey. It's why I prefer writing over voice conversation, as sometimes you'll say something totally wrong or the words will escape you and there's no time to sit and try to recapture a lost thought.

But ever since late last year, I stopped writing and then deleted all of my work, almost like Kafka. It's not to say I didn't agree with what I had written anymore, I just felt like deleting it for some reason that I can't explain. Now, I don't write much outside of Reddit and now here on SS.

I'd love to read anything you happen to write, though. I don't write these days, but I do a lot of reading.

 

[Preh1storic_Rib]

I hope you both can get in the mood to write again. And I agree! Writing is so deeply personal, it doesnt have to be something truly creative to speak to me. Poetry, scientific articles, notes, essays, novels, I really love to read and write it all.

 

[Sarco]

"Perdition bid light long to hate
For it was wicked, cruel, and fast;
But light still waited all this time
Yearning to annihilate."

 

[opheliaoveragain]

rabid like a dog,
every scorching summer day,
has me itching for a fight,
falling face first onto pavement—
whatever it takes to remove me
from state of being, of static, of stasis.
I make myself sick with my own lies.
just another unreliable narrator,
there's nothing to see here.

Crawling deeper inside myself
while the days and nights blur together
like a rift in space time, a paradox where I must have met myself

How else am I to account for this feeling?
like a fractal of a fractal, a loop with
no beginning or end, but an endless road
composed of tar black heroin holes and
rips in my own version of space time.

There's no phone signal when you're buried alive, even if there was, the person on the other end isn't real and you were talking to yourself the whole time.

There's nothing I can do
that hasn't already been done.
Growing up with enough guns
to shoot up every school in the DC area
Yet the wrong creak on the wrong stair sends me into a tailspin of fear.

Even the walls themselves cry out,
We destroy just to destroy further.
I feel myself layered on top of moments
of time, different dimensions, I can see all the version of myself, laid dead in a shallow grave,
the current version of me is a vulture picking the skin from the bones of my former selves.
Xxx

I haven't had to die to stay gone yet
but make no mistake, my plot armor is gone.
The story was always about me, until it wasn't.
Until you took that away, with your harmful ways, like nine inch nails being driven into my coffin.

You built up the narrative that if I come back,
I lose. I refuse to let you pick at the remains of my soul, when I myself barely escaped.
But when these walls start closing in without any control, you can put money on my not making it out alive.

Some think that Exiting is cowardly and selfish,
The selfish ones are those who prolong our suffering, with no regard for the damage that causes.

If they faced it, they would wish for death too.
We wouldn't be pushed underground, begging each other for the perfect route to non being.
How we beg complete strangers to help us leave this place.
Compared to everything that was drilled into us as kids regarding Stranger Danger—this is a brand new landscape.
Begging for a way out, from sea to sea, the desire to stop the ride does not discriminate and this very fact is constantly disregarded.

 

[Eternal Eyes]

I write a lot, probably daily despite the fact I'm not very good at it. I write sport reports for a local newspaper which I don't really like doing, and I also have written a few draft reviews on the last few video games I've played. I have wrote the basis of a fictional story involving witches and wizards and their afterlife (think of the story taking place in a heaven/hell setting with magic). Finally, I used to write poetry...but not so much now. Memories of an ex who used to like them, haha.