Child’s play

Ring around the roses, a pocket full of posies, ashes, ashes, we all fall down!!!

I didn’t get up… it became that child’s play was no longer a game to me, I fell, down further and further each time I tried to stumble to my feet, and though we held hands as we fell to the ground singing our favourite kids songs, there was no we when I learnt that all I ever did well was fall. There was no we in recovery, no we in self medicating, no we in self-pity, there were no hands to grab me as I plummeted, but they did grasp. I’ll give them that.

They tried to run the mile, but this race was never ending, and at some point they realised they had left me far behind. See, how can you fight for someone who half the time, is out of their mind, in their heads when they aren’t, mostly unaware of your sacrifice. Although I tried ‘normal’, tried to fit within the range, my mind didn’t function like a child’s should, my soul wasn’t tame.

And as I got older it made me think, yes, maybe I’m deranged, maybe I’m insane, so what if I’m not the same, they wouldn’t love me if I tried, they would love the conformity I showed, to the ways they had devised. The ways of living I had come to detest, it was wake up, work, eat and sleep, everything in between got lost in translation, I was sitting in rooms, making awkward conversation, with people, who didn’t think that I was anything special, asking me questions like ‘so what are your future prospects?’ and me having no foresight.

See, they told me I was sick, needed medication, because I was unaware of the point of living, they told me I was sick, needed medication because I didn’t understand why I should be forgiven. I didn’t see the point of carrying on, when every time I got up, all I ever did was fall. Children, we were told, would learn to walk, but I was clumsy and didn’t understand. They didn’t understand me, just as sometimes I wished I didn’t understand myself.

I wanted to get out of my head, but when I wasn’t there, I was spacing, thinking about what it would be like not to feel, whether anything in this world was ever real. whether I cared if tomorrow came, whether I ever really played like the other kids. Because when I played those kids games, I knew the ending would always be the same, we would go around and around, until we fell, and they would pick themselves up, while I would sit there, never really learning how to walk. Never really learning that this was nothing but child’s play.

By m_Y Broken Mind.

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