Turn Her Into Poetry
|Han Solo's descendant. Photography. The scent of vanilla. Cats for life.|
So it has been a while since I have written anything other than what I scribble into my journal. My mind is stuck. I am stuck on the past. It fills up in front of my eyes and becomes all that I see. I want to see something else. I don't want to keep reliving my terrifying moments. I don't want to keep being the tortured soul.
I have said this before, that now is the time. Well, fuck, I hope that now is the real time for the change in my mind. I don't want to keep living as the victim. I need that change.
May it be the right time.
I want to be brave with m,y life.
This is exactly how I want to build this life with you. Slowly but true and strong: an unbreakable bond.
I want to tackle you to the floor again and sit there laughing with you until I feel hysteric in euphoria.
Then I want to stare at you endlessly. I would trace every inch of your skin again until I knew that I could draw you in the air with my fingertips.
Would you let me hold your hand one more time? Tell me again how much you love being where we are. May I inhale your exhale while I stare into your breathtaking eyes?
I simply cannot get enough of you. I feel addicted to wanting you next to me. You consume my mind.
Sitting in a bus that must be passed capacity. Surrounded by so many heartbeats and all I can think of is my memory of yours against my palm.
That is all that I want to think of.
To drown out the sniffles, the breathing, the thoughts that people think are just in their head, I put on my song for you.
A tear trickles slowly down my right cheek.
And just like I have so often in the last few months, I just sit and think. Take a moment. And let it sink in that I might actually get to spend this crazy life with you.
The way you make me feel is practically indescribable. However, let me see if I can formulate my intense emotions into sensible words.
The little things you do like twitch in your sleep, move your hair out of your eyes, and ramble on, melt my metal armour into a pile of a free atoms movement. Just like the atoms comprising my armour, nothing happens to me except an increase in energy. Just you being absolutely and wholly you energizes me to my core. Then there are the amazing, spellbinding things you do like laugh, smile to your eyes, and being endlessly fascinated with my utter fascination with you, that make my heart feel as if it is going to implode inside my fluttering chest.
"I found him. I found the one you wanted me to find."
The ground was wet with morning dew, so she paced back and forth around the stone marker, careful not to tread on the mound.
"He's my one. Hopefully he doesn't walk away."
She stopped to squat down to get eye level with the adornments surrounding the stone standing strong. Her obsessive compulsive side straightened a wreath and centered a stone with a saying written across it. She stayed there for a while as the sun rose from its sleeping spot, and its rays began to warm up the cold place filled with no life except for the nature surrounding it.
"I wish you could have met him."
They are closer to us than we think.
"No I don't feel bad - it fucking sucks going through shit like that but see this entire time out of respect (until last night), I kept my mouth shut. So excuse me for saying something that I felt. But that's fine - don't like my opinion. I don't always like yours but I don't bitch and complain when someone has diffrent views."
I was verbally attacked by four people last night for asking after a general definition of what "excusively seeing eachother" means to them. I did not ask for a verbal assault on my relationship, or lack thereof in their eyes. Telling me that he is just using me for sex when you are judging him based on nothing is...
The blank stare makes them uncomfortable.
The empty eyes make them look away.
Staring into complete nothing scares them.
The pain behind my eyes are too much for them.
POTENTIAL TRIGGER WARNING. DO NOT READ FURTHER IF YOU ARE SUICIDAL OR SELF-HARM. OR IF YOU HAVE BEEN/DID IN THE PAST AND HAVE NOT YET HEALED.
I BEG YOU NOT TO READ FURTHER IF THE ABOVE MENTIONED APPLIES TO YOU.
*Disclaimer: writing prompt from lettrs staff*
The worst pain I have felt is both psychological and physical.
I self-harmed for a decade. I wanted to die every day for a decade.
It started with safety pins. I used to climb into my bunk bed and scratch away at my skin with the pin. Make angry, red lines on my pale skin. I used to scratch at my breasts and my hips because I never wanted anyone to love me. I wanted the lust to be gone once they saw the angry lines that faded i...
Another person to filter my thoughts to.
Another soul who can't handle my dark thoughts.
One more person. Another tick on the tally chart. Another one to keep at arm's-length.
There is literally no one in my world who can handle all of me.
And by the way, I hate the word "handle". It means to manage, to deal with when you don't want to. I don't want to be "handled" by anyone.
But I am "handled" by everyone in my world.
So it goes, as Vonnegut would say.
Here we go again.
Looked at like a piece of flesh, a pound of meat, a weight of bones.
All I was doing was exisiting within my own little world, dancing to the running list of songs.
Fully clothed, with a scarf around my neck (I say this though it shouldn't matter).
Wildly flailing to the beat.
And you grabbed my left arm with such force that even I, a strong, independent, no-fucks-given woman, couldn't pull away.
You tightened your grip as my fear slashed up my throat.
Dance with me.
You took your control further and used your right hand to grip my right arm like a vice.
In the middle of the dance floor.
No other soul stepped in, no other mouth raised in de...
Why does my heart beat so erratically
When you are in my sight?
I want to let it happen this time
I know that I can’t live without your touch
Because without you, I could never be just fine
I would just long for your arms around me
To drown in misery when you’re not there
I would look forever until you I would find
Forever is a long time
Do you want me to be here?
If not, then why did you come?
This line we’ve crossed will not let us go back
Numbered rhymes that whir around my scattered head
Being pushed over the edge of sanity
If I ever said that I didn’t want to be with you, I lied
You make me go crazy
I like being pushed
Forever in your arms is where I want to hide
But I wouldn...
But, what is poetry?
Words scrambled on a page
Iambic pentameter, say it is so
Mind coming to a standstill
Release the fear
to the infinite access to my mind
I thought I would attempt to continue this series so here it goes.
Betrayal: Part Two.
I met him when I was 17 and I fell in love. His family absorbed me and I was happy once more. I would leave the hour before school to meet him down the street at his house. We would bike to school together. After school, I would stay with him until my curfew at 11 p.m. And the cycle would continue.
I was unhappy at home. My Dad had remarried when I was 16 and she took my role. I was the female in the house, the mother figure. I shouldn't have had that role but I did once my Dad had left my Mum. She took it all from me. In turn, I was an angsty teenager who stayed away from home. I wasn't dri...
I haven't felt as creative lately. It's as if my depression has sucked me dry. I don't find enjoyment in things that I used to.
I started a new Instagram though. It's just of me capturing my daily life in black and white images. It's just an attempt to inspire myself.
Hopefully it works.
I've had so much on my mind lately; so many years of pain have piled up in my head and are now spilling into my conscious thoughts.
Betrayal: Part one
I head into my own life, of the betrayals that hit me one after another. From being bullied in school to being arrested for fighting back, I've had a fair share of humans and their "humanity". Family betrays the most though. I guess you can't blame random strangers for their betrayal as much as you can blame your family. My mom wanted to kill us though, that's why my dad left her in the hospital. She had been misdiagnosed her entire life with depression and the correct diagnosis of bipolar would stabilize her. She wasn't crazy when I...
I think about the world. How we kill our planet with every breath we take... pollution, global warming, deforestation, poaching, oil spills, animal enslavery for entertainment, etc. Plastic and garbage pile up in wastelands that were once beautiful forests, full of life.
I think about the people of our world: of the fear that leads to hate. War, drone strikes, rape, slut-shaming, torture, kidnapping, murder, civil war, no democracy, child soliders, blood diamonds, and the list could continue. We terrorize.
Humans have made an impact, alright.
Give peace a chance.
We need to stop. Take a moment.
Why is there all of this war? There is constantly war. Somewhere in the world, someone is suffering because of the affects of war. Refugees. Soldiers. Children out of school. Mothers crying over their sons. People's lives are uprooted every day because of the selfishness of man.
"War. What is it good for? Absolutely nothing."
Six years ago today he said "I love you" at my very first concert. We were 17.
I've had flashes of the relationship whip by in my head.
Then I hear your words in my ear.
"You ruined me like you ruined him."
And the flashes turn to nightmares of the past: me sitting on the kitchen floor in a pool of my own blood and looking up to see him standing in the doorway. He was out of breath because I had called him 15 minutes before saying the blood wouldn't stop. He was at school for the paramedic program. I remember his eyes.
"You ruined me like you ruined him."
You were straddled over me, your hands over my neck, spitting these words at me.
Two days before, I had cut my leg open and had to ...
I miss her.
I know that I shouldn't.
She's been on my mind.
I should be erasing her from my memory.
I wanted to talk about how difficult it is to recover after being suicidal and failing.
I believe it is the hardest thing you have to endure.
Being suicidal is easy, you've already decided. You know what is going to happen. You're going to die, and there is no fear in death.
Living means fighting. Fighting to stand tall as others tear you down, fighting the corporate world as it tries to take the little money you have, fighting the stigma of mental illnesses, fighting the concern from your loved ones, and fighting your dark thoughts that try to take over.
The struggle to rebuild yourself isn't just mental or emotional, it's financial, it's relationships, it's brushing your teeth three ...
I've been missing you lately.
I'm starting to forget you.
It scares me.
I wish that one day, you understand what you did to me. I sit the outside the courtroom, cringing at the sound of the cool, female voice over the intercom and avert my eyes from those of cops. I hate how this makes me feel like a criminal, when I was the victim. and you didn't stand by me, you didn't protect me like you should have. that was your job. so now I sit outside the courtroom, a mess inside, because of the position you put me in due to your lack of love.
It's interesting sometimes when you're just sitting and watching people enjoy their lives. You realize how absorbed in your own life you are. But at the same time that you are struggling through your life, other people are living theirs.
I just thought of what you would say if you found out I was in love with someone else after you...
"You're pathetic. You said you'd never love after me."
Yes, I had said that. I had said that when I was so sickly in love with you. If that is what you call love, then I pity you. I know so much more about love and I know that you never did. If to you, it was in some sick and twisted way, then my heart breaks for you.
For you will never know the love I am capable of. Instead you had shut me down, turned me against myself to the point where I didn't even want to exist anymore. Do you really call that love?
I call that hell. To be trapped, crawling for love; for a love that could never...
It's scary when you're suicidal, and driving.
You become so reckless.
You don't check for blind spots, blow through yellow lights that you usually would stop for, and go 100 in a 50 zone.
But somehow, you still get to your destination safely. Unfortunately.
I actually smile now... in photos... If you look back to my pictures, I never used to show my teeth... But now I just don't know any other way to smile because that is how happy you make me feel.
Three hours, just three more hours.
I ignited the car's engine in the still silence of an early Saturday morning. My Bluetooth was connected, the seat warmer was on, and the food sat on the seat next to me: I was set for the journey. As I pulled the car from the parking garage, I thought of how surprised my mother had been the night before at my actions - at choosing this new person over Star Wars. To see Melissa or to see Star Wars; the logic was that Star Wars could be watched at any point after this day because well, it existed in the world now and Melissa couldn't be seen at any point, for the time being. Of course she has to live a decent drive away.
I pulled into the gas statio...
She sat and thought as she lit the pipe, inhaling the smoke through her teeth. What a beautiful person she had found. She questioned why it had to be so soon, was she falling for someone at the wrong time? She had loved so strongly the woman who was so wrong for her. She had pined and cared for, for so many months. In the blink of an eye, her life had changed. Dramatically, erratically, in a heartbeat – the present turned into the past and she was left alone. Waiting, struggling to breathe, she stood there. Just to see if she could see her love one last time. But her love had been a lie; a spineless worm that had infested her mind and twisted to suit its own intentions. She had los...