Asylum of the self
A poem about mental illness in lockdown
Usually, I disguise my tireless fears of the world in eloquent articles of clothing
An air of ambition,
Fuelled by my ego.
Pretending myself into cool, functioning Lara.
She’s detached yet focused.
I put on my songs and choose my clothes with my nose turned to the ceiling.
I won.
I am mine now.
This is what happens when leaving the house becomes a triumph over who the inner critic thinks I am,
vs who I’m becoming.
Still,
beneath this veneer of functionality is shame.
Quarantine leaves little room for disproving shame.
I can’t hide behind carefully selected garments to convince myself of my sanity, my safety.
Clothes are more than just threads,
They are my armour; protecting me from the expansive colourlessness,
Of the ordinary.
But now, there is so much time alone.
I’ve built myself around solitude but resist seeing myself as an outsider.
Even though I always have been.
I guess I truly am tortured.
And I don’t say that with pride or even a hint of glamour.
There is nothing glamourous about chronic stage fright.
I long to think positively about myself
However, I have lived in this skin,
I have been acquainted with the worst of it.
Sometimes I want to cut myself out and be someone else,
And that’s what leaving the house allowed.
The chance at rebirth, of performance.
I thrived on being seen by the world as I decided to present myself.
I feel — no — I am too real now.
Everything I run and hide from with habitual maintenance, the polishing of bedroom mirrors, the extensive skin care routine.
It wasn’t for me,
It was the weaponry!
Drawn to silence the critic!
I tell myself “everyone feels this way” but I don’t know if they do.
And even if it is true (it’s not),
it offers little comfort.
God, my freshly pressed clothes and all the other faceless objects we lug around on our backs were all relics of my triumph.
Of my real, physical presence in the world.
My real self is a bully;
I once knew how to beat her.
I fought tooth and nail for my right to joy
But now,
Even in solitude
I am never alone.
