Korinna McRobert

In the name of fairness

In the name of fairness

In the name of my fairness

everyone should have been sexually abused by their fathers

everyone should have been neglected by their mothers

everyone should have lost their baby

everyone should have no money to their name

everyone should be jobless

everyone should have inflammatory bowel disease

And then what?

When others have what I don’t my heart bleeds

And so what?

In the name of fairness

we’d all be ill

In the name of fairness

we’d all be disabled

In the name of fairness

we’d all be poor

We forget that fairness

isn’t really fair

or at least not very functional

If we were all in the same position

who would be left to help us?

 

Media is the opium of the masses

The screen

My opium

A game during my break

An episode of something to relax

Playing to forget

Reading headlines to pass the time

Flicking through photos out of curiosity

Liking posts to feel part of a community

I can finally soothe myself

But can I self-soothe?

In order to self-soothe does the comfort need to be self-made?

I used to have me, a pen, some paper

My words, my musings, my sketches

would relieve me

There were so many of them

I would read them back

and feel like I came home again

Now that I am home

there is nowhere left to go

I used to push through the pain

Now I lie back and wait

Numbing my pain with external stimuli

rather than internal voices

Eventually the pain goes

and I have nothing to show for it 

 

Self-sufficient

My life goal

Self-sufficiency

Take care of myself

by myself

Lean on myself

Ask for nothing

It goes a long way

Through splitting

Me

my hurt

my keen awareness

my analysis

my plan

to make it better again

Constantly working on it

Constantly working on me

Everything is there to decode and understand

I just have to talk to myself

find out what I need

find a way to get it 

Comfort

Soothing

was missing for a long time

It had to be violent to get through to me

Having someone else helped

Co-dependency: A dirty word

Inter-dependency: A more acceptable term to use

as part of my vocabulary

Still not comfortable

I cut off

I convince myself I need nobody

Not intimately anyway

Everything feels harder

Porousness closes up

Isolation sets in

It gets cold

Some lava inside starts to bubble

It erupts

The icy exterior explodes and melts

The elements mix again

Balancing

Inter-depending with and on

Otherwise I become a lone barren universe