I always wonder what goes on in people’s minds when they are dying… like what could they possibly be dreaming about while they’re waiting to die?
I think we all probably like to think that our minds replay our life like a film reel right before we kick the bucket. Colorful scenes showing us our most unforgettable moments, friends, vacations, parties, first kisses, lovers… etc. Our brains faintly playing the soundtrack to our lives in the background, matching the emotion in our heartfelt memories. We romanticize what we hope waits for us in those last moments before the unknown.
But honestly… our last dreams are probably just the same as our normal dreams. Random and meaningless. And knowing that is kind of a bummer because I don’t want to be having the same idiotic dreams right up until I croak. My dreams are regularly full of so much nonsense and random bullshit that I can’t even follow them. They’re like cough syrup dreams without having to drink any actual cough syrup. I don’t want that. That sounds like an awful way to go.
Anyways, as someone who is frequently exposed to those the dying process, I catch myself wondering what’s happening in their head every time. Yet if it came down to it, I don’t think I’d actually want to know. I’d most likely just be disappointed that instead of reliving the most beautiful and significant times of my life… I’m dreaming about heating up hot pockets or some shit.
Alas… it’s just another one of life’s many lucrative secrets that I’m sure to find the answer to eventually. No rush.
-Hal
Month: June 2023
Seven (BW&C)
Street Art B&W
It stood there stoically on a busy street, hidden by trash bags, and unappreciated by passerbys. However, I’m sure I’m not the only one that has taken a moment to appreciate the unknown artist who did this.
I love the rawness of street art and the hints of creativity/livelihood within cities. Everything can be a canvas. 🖤
Self-Sabotage
Oh the irony of self-sabotage…
So as we know I’m borderline. Borderline with a hint of abandonment issues.
Tonight I’m overthinking (as I do) about how much I dread the idea of being abandoned, yet I’ve consistently tested people to see if they will leave me. Like a never-ending game of “let’s see how much they truly care”.
Over the years, I have found myself repeatedly pushing the most important people in my life to their breaking point with me. Then if (or when) they do leave me, I somehow am still able to feel shocked by it.
I can’t recall how many times I’ve screamed “leave me the fuck alone” to someone I deeply care about while internally pleading and begging them to stay. I’m not sure if I do this to try to prove to myself that I’m unlovable and that they don’t truly care about me or if I do this to protect myself from being vulnerable/hurt. Because let’s face it… how can you be hurt by someone if you’re the one doing all the hurting?
I can be so loving and selfless, yet I can be mean…. cruel even when I try to push someone away. I’m not a mean person, I know that, but I have said awful things to get a reaction from someone. Looking back, it’s like I was taunting people to prove to me that I was unworthy, even though I was doing it to myself. Like I wanted them to prove to me that they could hate me almost as much as I hated myself.
The more I study and learn about being borderline, the more I realize that my biggest problem has not been the fear of abandonment… it’s been self-sabotage.
I don’t think I’ve ever felt completely deserving of love and I’m not sure if I ever will. I think that the parts of myself that are filled with self-hatred just try to abolish any happiness that enters my life. Thus… causing me to push away those who do try to show me love. It’s fucked. I’m learning, I’m growing, I’m slowly figuring out how to win this game with myself. But it’s fucked.
That’s really all I have in me tonight. Thank you for taking the time to read my thoughts.
-Hal
Dublin Castle
Lift Your Foot
Red traffic lights tempt me.
They arouse my intrusive thoughts,
silently urging me to lift my foot.
“Roll forward, let it go, see what happens.”
Yes… oncoming traffic might stop, people might brake, waiting patiently for me to escape their path… But there’s that chance they don’t.
And then I’d experience the shattering windshield, the violent scraping of metal, and the deafening collision that the sick parts of my mind crave…
Yet fear stops me.
But it’s not a fear of my own injury or death. It’s the inevitable pain and problems it would bring to others. It’s honestly the aftermath for the innocent that scares me. The bystanders, the people involved, my family, my friends… everyone else besides me.
Which yes… this thought process is fucked. I’m already aware of this. But this is how my head works… responsibly irresponsible.
I would like to clarify that I’m NOT suicidal. I DO NOT want to die. However, I do occasionally hypothesize ways my mortality could end if I let it.
I’ll wrap this up by stating that my foot is staying securely on the brakes at red lights. Intrusive thoughts are just thoughts… that’s all they are and ever will be.
-Hal
Garden
Thorns
Thoughts become embedded into my brain like thorns. They bury their sharp edges deep into the vulnerable seams of my subconscious, silently smirking at their inability to be removed. And they remain there, dormant in wait... Until my mind again begins to stir.
Dublin
Haven
The words we whisper become loud behind closed doors. The walls ignorant to the heat behind our tongues... and the gasps between our breaths.
Anonymously Hal 
You must be logged in to post a comment.