FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

No More

---

No more.

Please, no more.

I can't take this, this mental barrage, curled up into a ball, hunkered down, hiding, waiting it out. I can rock and I can rock but, oh - there's no manner of self-soothing that can match up to the crimes of this world, the wreckage of my soul, turning this way and that, trying to stand up to each side as it presents itself. Putting out fires constantly, doing this, doing that, but the blaze is still raging in the background of it all and the embers that I crush underfoot, depriving of oxygen, are of no great significance in the grand scheme of things.

Coming to get you...

_ _

No, no, no. Can't think that, don't want to think that. Do something, do anything: anything to get my mind off that. I can't think of that, think of the past, yet it is there always, not chasing me but present in me, shoving thoughts and fears before my eyes day in and day out, one after the other.

Remember that time? Remember crying so hard that you didn't even know why you were for hours on end? Remember being told to shut up? Remember being lied to? Remember the long nights? Remember the threats? Remember the blackmail? Remember walking through the night until your feet bled? Remember the dread? Remember the fear? Remember the fairy lights that time, one of many, that you wanted to never wake up again?

Do you remember? Well, do you? Do you, do you, do you, do you, do you?

You're insistent, brutal, and you have no place here but I've let you in and I can't get you out, hooked into my soul like a bur that cannot be picked free. It'll take digging into the bloody landscape of my body, breaking ribs, cutting out the poison, to free myself from you and I'm willing to do it too - but, oh, it'll be hard. Harder than anything I've ever done before, even though opinions abound, telling me that I was wrong all along, that I was the one that over-reacted, shouldn't have done this, shouldn't have done that, that I was to blame even years later for all the ills that befell you. People say I deserve it but how can I when event his is something that I would never have wished on the greatest, most sordid soul in the whole wide universe?

This is not a live for anyone to lead and neither is it pain for anyone to live with. Twisted anxiety claws at my chest and I pull the covers over my head once more.

No more, once more. This is too much and yet I have to get up and face it every day because that's who I am.

I reshaped who I am and yet the foundations have not yet set as I build upon them, rushing and racing to be better, to heal, to do my best, to help. But I can't take the reaching out and helping when there's nothing back. Everyone's got their own shit to deal with as the world turns upside-down, rocking the system in a good way and a bad way, illness creeping insidiously into the cracks of the world and exposing the roots of evil. I want to help, I've got to help, but I've got no energy left in my, strength depleted, reserves lost in the words typed out on a page that is no longer blank.

My coins are spent, my cup is empty: you'll find me out of spoons. But the drawer must find a way to re-fill itself as I hide away, though there is nothing refreshing and regenerating about the cloying grip of darkness. Not even my thoughts are sacred anymore.

I don't want to think, just want to be, no more thoughts that keep me up, keep me tossing, keep me turning when rest is not mine to take. You took even that from me, so many years later, and as much as I scream "no more", beat and pound my little fists, it's nothing in comparison to the enormity of everything else, small and helpless against the might of the world.

Reach out, fall back. There's no one there. I'm sorry I can't help you now, I'm sorry I can't do more - yet what can I do for you when I can't even help myself out of the pit that is being filled in around me as I flounder and gasp?

Escape, escape, escape. I provide and yet I cannot find my own, wallowing and keeping my head down, waiting for it to be over. Bursts of energy come and go but not even I can dig my way out of this one alone, nerves coursing, throbbing, clutching at my heart until pain lances through again like the blade of a freshly sharpened knife. I can do what I can do but it's not enough, never enough, just like they always said that I would never be good enough.

It's time and the light beckons, dim and grey in the filtering of morning, birds singing. Up and up and up. There's a sensation of lifting even as my shoulders are weighed down, muscles screaming, burning, begging for respite. Yet the physical side is only one facet and it's the barrage of thoughts that I truly have to work my way through, snarling and snapping and shoving them aside, finding that strength that is there but has to be found so very deep inside now. Each time I rise, I have to dig a little deeper but I'm glad each and every time I'm able to rise back to the surface.

Cool, damp air hits my lungs and I take a breath but it's not a full one. I haven't been able to breathe deeply in a while either, forcing down the fear, beating it out of my soul with gruelling exercise, stripping stress from my soul. It may only be temporary but, oh, sweetheart, we all have to cope with our demons in one way or another. Just be glad that this is mine.

No more, no more, no more. Yet there's always more.

There must be more, there must be light, there must be a way out of this mess. And it's coming and, if you're reading this, I implore you to hang on too, just a little longer. Every time you think you can't, it's: "just a little longer". Every time.

Hang in there. Hold on.

Stay the course.

You can do this.

For, one day, there will be no more of the bad and things will come right. It's all that can keep us going, all that can force us on, bleeding and bruised and aching for the wrong kind of rest.

Keep going.

You can do it.

And, to the evils that dragged us down, we say: NO MORE!

No more.