Losing the game:

Sometimes I think I'm just a pawn,

In that game you play with other people's lives.

You set up challenges throughout the day -

Knowing full well they can't be done.

Do you laugh, I wonder, as you watch us flounder?

Is it some sadistic pleasure you draw from our efforts,

Or is it just cold academia that drives your study?

Even as the night draws in and the game is at a lull,

Some other force, (or is it you?)

Denies me the rest I’m sure I'm due

And so, exhausted, it all begins again.

This viscous cycle spiralling down.

Until,

I fear,

The darkness will out.

I’m having a bad few weeks. My grades are getting worse instead of better; I feel less and less inclined to participate in daily domestic duties – from getting out of bed onwards (inclusive of all those little things which most people do instinctively everyday and which I used to be quite particular about); my laptop is increasing the speed of its descent into electronic senility and the result of my psychiatric evaluation is that in view of the severity, range and longevity of my many issues, the best course of action seems to be longer-term, more intensive therapy rather than guided self-help. There is, of course a waiting list for this type of therapy (aimed in part at helping those sorts of people who have self-harmed or felt suicidal tendencies…), so I have no idea when that will start, but I hope that it starts soon and is effective, because to be honest I’m starting to get a wee bit desperate.

Apart from anything else, I’m dying for one good night’s sleep, although if I woke up in the morning to find I wasn’t still utterly exhausted, I’d probably have a heart attack.

It’s had a big effect on my work: A lot of the time I’m like some sort of confused, sleep-deprived, geriatric zombie suffering from senile decay and when I’m not, I’m being overly hyper to try and compensate – both scenarios leading to general bad health and I’m left wondering how the group I’m working with can possibly make sense of anything I’m saying. On the subject of which – apologies if this is in appalling English, I will probably retract this post at some point in the future.

(Sorry for the shitty quality of the poem – it’s a first draft which I dashed off about 6 minutes ago purely to head this post… may or may not polish it off at a later date)