Welcome to MENTAL

A collection of stories ON mental health experiences

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"I call it a dark horse."


I don’t want porridge

the fullness of a fully empty tummy that no longer requires feeding

my heart beating in a tight wooden box a few hundred metres from my body

tastes of porridge with greek yoghurt and frozen berries that my dad made every morning while I was in the shower


if it was an animal my mum would call it a black dog       I call it a dark horse

feels like the condensation of a winter morning

crouching on the kitchen floor listening to your phone call with my caseworker

a yellow sunset over the neighbour’s paddock of dead lambs


looks like twitching fingers and trembling muscles

the chill of concrete blocks seeping into my bones

a grey haze over the edges of my vision

the plastic smell of my mum’s car as I hide on the backseat for hours          hoping my brother won’t spot me


sounds like a numb rumble over my focus

a marigold’s bright orange burn of hope and anguish

a piece of paper existing only in memory

work lost to time

time lost to time

a herb garden green and plain but eliciting the strongest response when pinched

idle hands are the devil’s playthings but an idle mind      is the devil’s toy box  the computer game announced

wandering stressed          unable to settle           unable to confess my need for inactivity

a peace lily that sucks up all the water but still refuses to bloom

longing for a safe place to just sleep

longing to be dead but not have to die

I saw you when I looked at the ceiling now I stare at the ceiling a lot

help me

“I got out of bed today."

“Nature’s happiness helps the pain to ease.”