Hello, my name is Phoebe and I’m a functioning depressive. My hair is blue and falls down to my chin, I often fall with it. My anxiety sits on my skinny little shoulders and casts shadows on collar bones that, like the rest of my bones, are becoming shy. Sometimes it sits on my flat chest and presses hard until I can’t breathe. I breathe smoke but I’m learning to stop. I’m learning a lot of things at the moment like how to live by myself again, who I am and how to stop hurting myself.
You never do stop learning. Just today I learnt it’s okay to say you’re feeling suicidal. It’s hard to say and it’s hard to hear, but it’s important to share with someone who can help you. I knew it deep down, but it felt like a revelation to be told.
I love telling stories and the colour black and people who don’t say ‘black is a shade not a colour’ and iced mocha frappes and my nephews laugh and reading and writing blog posts. I also love writing and telling stories. What you love helps to define who you are, so does what you do despite anyone being around.
No matter who is around I will always say Ralph Macchio is my favourite actor, stand up for feminism, talk about my nephew, promote my blog (I’m shameless) and always try to be the voice for people without one. It’s so easy to lose our voices, when we found them we really shouldn’t let them go, should use them everyday. And I have found mine.
My voice is paperchains and the person I am on here. It’s the same as I am in real life but a bit more hopeful, a bit more positive, a bit more of the person I want to be.
But that’s me, paperchains, aka Phoebe.