My world is full of colour, Linda's is black and white; that is the difference.
Every day there are numerous opportunities for me to express, enjoy myself, think about things, write songs, play guitar, listen to music, write books, curl up and read, run with the dog, walk, cycle, dig, paint, bake, soar, fly free, jump in the car, pump up the stereo.
For Linda none of this is available. Her reality, way, way below normal experience, where "nothing is possible" is far too unbearable to contemplate:

And here I am again
Trapped in ME world
In paralysis city,
Where every noise
Loud or small
Negates me.
All hopes, dreams,
Are not real.
I have to face that fact.
The gap between me and them
Is vast
And unquantifiable.
The emptiness of the void
Between my reality and yours
Is endless
And unimaginable to you
Yet tangible
With form and shape
To me,
Solid as rock.
The wall between us
Is invisible as glass,
The difference in life
Is hard as iron
The strength of its endurance
Is strong as an ox
It holds me back,
Pins me down,
Crushes my intentions,
Huge as a giant
It stands in my way
My body
My mind
My sensations
My existence
Are crushed to nothing
In that emptiness of being.
Welcome to my world
Where what is before you
Even close by you
Is out of reach
Where words disappear
From your head
And memory is turned to ice
Which slowly drips
and melts away
Where letters dance
Upon an unread page
And thought cannot be conjured
No matter how hard you try,
Where people are not just
an irritation to you
But harm you
Simply by their presence
With you
Without any awareness,
Of your inner experience
Or the assault that they are
Upon your pain-wracked body.
Unimaginable trauma
Is done to you
By the well-meaning,
Things that you think
Should help you,
Do more damage,
Tip you further into illness
Too indescribable to convey
And I mean
Is possible
Despite the illusion
That maybe,
One day,
It might be so
Linda Crowhurst


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