Insanity is a padded room

People are fans of things they can’t see. Because it makes it easy for them to pretend is there when it’s not and vice versa. It’s easier to have results in numbers on paper telling you you’re sick. Because then doctors can still figure out a way to sew you back up or sedate you.

But I’m sick with something I cannot see. I talk about scars my doctors cannot stitch up no matter how much they rummage through my sickly body, sometimes I’m not sure if I’m pretending to be fine or if it’s just another mood swing.

And I know I’m sick. I know because for years I have dreams of dying. Of being shot, of falling off buildings. I feel the impact of everything before I wake so for years I die, over and over again. I may have developed an immortality complex, who knows, where I’m convinced I’ll never die. To just step in front of a car or off the 5th storey of my flat, feel it, thinking I could and probably would wake up again.

I’m addicted to the strangest of things. Not cigarettes or alcohol but the sterile scent of hospital beds, general A and the beeping of my heart rate monitor. At my lowest I crave them so badly. To have no one talking, not even myself in my own head. To slip in and out of sleep for hours on end where time has no hold of me.

Wishing everytime to feel so eternally.


If all things we couldn’t explain was magic, then I guess it gives me some clue;

As to why my tears are all but few; when I’m not supposed to miss you, I just do.

Out of Sight

Because the world is round and maybe, just maybe, as I stare after your back you will catch me staring too.

But maybe, just maybe, when you turn you will find my back staring back at you.


Have you cried over something you never knew you lost?

Perhaps a soul you’ve never met;

There are no tears. Just alot of screaming into a void you never knew was present till it echoed around you.

Sobering up


It’s been awhile since I actually posted something here that wasn’t written in poetry and prose. You’d think that with this post, I’ll finally revert to posting in proper sentences but you know what?


It’s only going to get sappier from here so brace yourselves (for maybe the rest of the month and the next). The past week had been one of soul searching, or at least searching through my phone and frequent bouts of putting together drunken slurs that happen to rhyme. In my notes I’d found quite afew poems I’d written over the year but never had the time or guts to post up, mainly because reading back on them, I didn’t know how to explain them. Sure, I knew exactly how I felt back then from just re-reading them. But to piece them all together and have to figure out how everything changed and bounced around so quickly? Sorry, not a clue. Perhaps I should show them to my psychiatrist and see what she can make out of it.

Alas, I am jobless for now. How long? Beats me. The boredom is killing me over here, not that my procrastination is doing me any favors either.


It’s been a whirlwind. That would be the understatement of the year. My inner self has been screaming and running around in circles so much, I’m quite sure she’s about to collapse from exhaustion. All in all, it seems that my life is one huge balancing act and I’m horrible at it.

By horrible, I mean I’d made too many mistakes. For someone who’s motto is ‘No regrets’ and ‘Only do things that make you happy’, I’d been doing a shit job.Literally.

Besides practically not living for myself majority of the year and prioritizing the wrong people at the wrong times over the dumbest matters and letting it drag on for so long had made me an extremely sad human being. Oh yes, don’t forget stupid. Formulated reasoning as follows:

(Not living for self) (365 days)(Prioritizing the wrong people ^nth days) +(Dumb matter) (n^2 days) What the fuck are you even doing Cherie.

I’m trying to revert back to my save points now, back to a time I felt more peaceful and… safe in my own head. It’s a tricky thing to do, I hope that one day I’ll be able to pen/type it out here somewhere. For now, my mind is pretty blank. I’m searching for material things that will make me happy (human beings not included in this list) and doing anything within my financial means to get there.

For now all I have are my jumbled words and sad songs for you guys lined up.

In case anyone would like to take offence (I can’t believe I actually have to do a disclaimer for this), all my poems here on till my next coherent/non poetry related post are queued. So jump to no conclusions, my friends, and let me vent and document my life here.