Unhinged

I handed him the shovel, build us a foundation, I’ll stand with you forever, make it sturdy, give us a fighting chance.

Opened my eyes, to find darkness, trapped beneath the potential, the hope; dreams.

Screamed, lost my breath, traces of blood in the cover, trying to fight my way out, but potential adds more weight, tells me to give it more time, it’s almost ready.

Gasped trying to wait and not die, buried beneath the very freedom I sought. Another whisper, “I am here”. A different voice, the weight begins to shift.

Imagined potential and hope created the dream I’d always wanted. I listened to the hiss of air as I got closer to the surface.

Kicked away the cover, nails scarred into the wood, the ground drops, nothing lands above me. Another kind of darkness surrounds me.

I called for you, where have you gone, lying on the ground, skeletal remains, a body that I once loved, eyes blinded, defeat drooling from lips I once feigned to kiss.

I tried.

I held on to you, but heard the whisper, “you’re sinking, who will you be, if you lose yourself again”

I let you go, my arms stripped, yours filling with stolen flesh, stolen life, I crawled from you, ran my hands over our plot, found the shovel; removed the dirt from my box.

Rolled you in, hands burning at every touch, I took the cover and nailed it shut. The mewling tore me to pieces, but I knew it was you or it was me. You gave up, I knew I couldn’t. My arms rose and fell until the cover couldn’t be seen. A eulogy was all I had left, tears surged from me, knees betrayed me, hands forsook me.

I dug, screamed I would never let you go, your roots took hold of my legs, your poison already seeped and birthed from the earth to remind me I belong buried, hidden from the sun. A whisper, “how long before you truly learn; a dead man does nothing but kill a live woman, who will you be?”. But,

I can’t let you go, even as I watch the ground make room for me, I feel the pressure around my thighs. A yell, “who will you be?”, a hand reaches down to me.

I hear your cries.

I see a whispers hand, light pours from every fingertip. My wounds begin to heal, the pain lessens, tears slow, I feel the poison draining from my soul.

I touch a whisper, no longer a voice, a being, like a thread pushing through the head of a needle, the light travels within me. The edge of the plot in sight, the cries of desperation slight. Sand beneath my feet, the light now surrounding me.

I look over my should, release a sigh of relief.

I could breathe.

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Aviril

Those days were Heaven, it usually is when

we’re in the same space, but you

leave, I move, the pages

change.

I remember before, tainting the

now, exhausting forgiveness when it

could be replenished, amidst feelings of

neglect and being misunderstood

Just say what it is,

not what you should.

In Passing

I look at photos of you, from before, and it feels like another piece of my ventricle is closed off. I wait for the dull ache, but the feeling burns. Memories tainted every time I go back to use them to hold on, but all I hear is “was this the real you”. Who is the real person, how real are you with me? Things I never questioned before you betrayed me. Slow and long I’m suffering, because now we don’t speak, when before hours couldn’t pass without you wanting to hear from me, days never passed that you didn’t call to hear my voice, I don’t remember what you sound like, smell like, taste like. You’re foreign to me, like an amnesia, waking from a long sleep, thinking you’d be there, yet I’m always alone, I gave up thinking I’d hear, “I’m home”, the moment is gone.

Seeking

I talk a lot about feelings, love, patience, learning, and how to be a better person. These areas consistently are shifting in my life. I imagine it’s because of the level of importance they hold in my life. Living a life that was surplussed with love in some areas, and devoid and corrupt in others, has led me on this journey on learning to love the right way. I have few great examples of how love is supposed to be done; my grandparents being the main two and one (as a unit and then as two individuals). My grandfathers love is quiet. You never hear it, but you see in his actions that it’s there. No matter what I need, car problems, house problems, prayer, he’s available to me. Until I got older I didn’t even realize how accessible he was/is to me; I took it for granted. My grandmother, or mother, depending on who I’m talking to, is my greatest hair pull and deepest source of love. In many ways I am more of her than my biological mother (her daughter). The depths of my heart are limitless to the people I love; just like her. The width of my sensitivity, and want to be understood and cared for are unmatched; JUST LIKE HER. I literally don’t know where they end. She is everything. Literally. She gave me my first car, paid for me to go to Howard Community College (where I was able to kick butt and get 3 degrees in 2.5 years), she helped me pay rent and buy food when I went to Salisbury University, and to this day just randomly will call and say “baby do you need some food or money”. I get emotional when I think about it because there is no way I would have been able to achieve all the things that I have without her. Shoot, she even paid for me to go to driving school!

Loving me comes with a price. I know this. I’m hard man. Even with all that sensitivity, getting me to be soft, getting me to be affectionate, it is HARD; especially for my blood family (and boyfriends – but that’s a whole other post). I don’t know what age it started, but it was/is incredibly noticeable to her. She’ll say “I miss you” and I’ll be oblivious and say “I’m right here” and her eyes just get sad. I have tears filling my eyes writing this because I hate that my coldness hurts her. I have this guard around my family that I struggle with CONSTANTLY. I’m distant, and when I am around, I have to make effort to be thawed out. My energy immediately goes on lock down, and for the life of me, I just can’t figure out why! It’s a goal of mine, this year, to thaw out permanently. I want to be able to go around my family and glow the way I do around everyone else. I want to stop cringing when they go to touch or hug me. I want them to see that I love them versus just hearing me say it.

Morning Thoughts

People often have excuse after excuse for why their life is the way it is. Or like to say that they’re being a poor friend or family member because they have the proverbial “lot going on” (but honestly who doesn’t?). I’ve been blessed to have friends, framily (friends that are family), and family who acknowledge their own decisions and how they have consequences. Recently I have emotionally cut a few individuals from my life. One an ex-boyfriend, the other someone I considered framily, but soon learned that relationship was one sided. Both of them have a lot in common. This intense obsession to be concerned with what others think of them, while also sabotaging how people will think of them. Both refuse to acknowledge any of their mistakes and how those mistakes and decisions have placed them where they are in life. I look back at all the time I’ve invested in them, and I remind myself in all things there is a lesson. Mine, you can only help someone as much as they will allow. And when that help turns into enabling or a crutch, you HAVE to change the situation, either with boundaries, or removing yourself altogether. After spending years trying to cultivate these relationships, of trying to support, I let them go. To be honest the pain was terrible. More so for the friend than the ex, but still, it was hard. I cried for days, never getting angry, but just this overwhelming sadness that someone who claimed to love me could do certain things and then lie to my face about it. But the lessons I’ve taken away from the last, almost decade of “friendship” and the brief romantic flame, have been amazing. I can see some areas I definitely need to improve upon, and more than anything, I am grateful to learn that there are some deep running faults I need to heal and repair.

One thing I find that really makes me a good person, is that I am willing to see where I went wrong in a situation, and apologize for it. Not just apologize but try to see what behavior and thoughts led me to do the wrong thing so that I can work on it. I am self-reflective (have to shoutout my friendmate (friend + soulmate) Gian for that), and the growth I get from that has been astronomical compared to the pain I’ve felt from bad choices I’ve made. Even in these two relationships, I really sat down and analyzed all the things I did wrong, not them, but me. 

Why? 

Because my response, my thoughts, my actions, are the only thing in this world that I am responsible for. So even though the ex continues to be a thorn in my side, I try to rise above. I try to control the rage and absolute “slap a b****” in check; don’t get me wrong, it’s the most difficult thing in my life right now; barring health issues. But the struggle is worth it, my patience when this is over, working with the assumption I continue to be positive and act in a way I would be proud of, will be immaculate. So, remember, take responsibility for your part and portion, and do what you can to improve regardless of the situation or the actions of others. No one said it would be easy, but nothing worth having or doing is. The outcome is ALWAYS worth it when you do the right thing!

Begin to End 

They want you to do what’s best for you until that best excludes them, leaves them behind, or can’t be satisfied by just them. When you need more because everything you had is destroying you, so you have no option but to start over or die as more pieces of yourself are razored away into faux stretch marks. When your own hands need to be left behind because they leave marks of darkness across your “perfect skin”, and your mind needs to be left behind because it tells you everyday you’ll never make it without jumping off the edge, without burning everything around you to the ground, or without watching as everything melts like crayons under the Las Vegas Sun. 

Bleeding until it’s all mixed. Into something beautiful? Something abstract? Something that hardens and becomes twisted from the original rainbow of beauty? The most beautiful things can turn into something you don’t recognize when the damage becomes too much, when the paper holding it together weakens, the beauty leaks out, oils stain the paper, even when what made it beautiful is gone, it’s never forgotten. How can it be when that’s the only reason it was ever wanted. 

What is this twisted thing, feet dangling, hands gripping the rail, mind miles down searching the ground for answers never found. How long to hit rock bottom, to begin again or embrace the end. To rise again or leave the splatter of color trailing into the sea and soaking the fallen leaves. 

Don’t want the world to know I’m by myself…don’t want the world to know I’m on your shelf…There’s no coloring around us anymore

– Coloring by Kevin Garrett

Might As Well

be alone. Because what is the point?

People swear they love you, but when

you’re down

and out

it’s only you, you can turn to. When

your back is against the wall, and you’re

looking for someone to break

your fall, just to realize they stole the grass

to help soften the blow.

Confused by the love people claim they feel,

when anytime there’s a problem, they can’t heel.

If you, gotta do it all on your own, you might as well

be all alone.

Why stress yourself with the problems of someone else,

when they’re one of the reasons, your life got mess?

How important are they, to suck your joy, and spit on

your hope, with no recourse?

Might as well be alone.

 

I can’t talk to you anymore, it seems to be at, but to a wall not a person, and my time seems lost. I wonder more and more, about time cashed in, never to be seen again. Maybe we were friends, or two sinners making excuses for the things we did. I sought the same thing, and lose it in the hope of what could be, never seeing what is until the thrumming of need becomes a docile pitter patter, lost rhythms into silent beats.

I am One

Not to be cliche, but, as long as I can remember, I’ve struggled with loving myself and wanting to live. To me it’s not a morbid conversation. A big portion of my life I’ve self harmed and struggled with suicidal thoughts. I’ve functioned, and at times, barely functioned as I dealt with an amplitude of mental, physical and emotional attacks.

I’m not generally an unhappy person; at least not now that I have more control over my life. Before the last couple years, I thought depression was something I’d inherited for being, as my stepfather put it “an evil child”. That it was the reaped curse of karma, and that I was just an unhappy person who loved misery. But as I’ve grown, I’ve realized that’s not the case. Yes I have seconds, minutes, moments, days, weeks even where I can’t make life make sense, but overall, I love my life. The good, the bad, and the ugly. I’ve learned to see that the struggles and adversities give me opportunities to grow and be better.

My point is, people who self harm or who struggle with suicidal thoughts are often plagued with shame. I choose to ignore that pressure tonight and share that I’m one of those people. Ignoring the fear, the panic, and the almost debilitating need to ctrl + a + backspace…I’m speaking on it. Because I know too many people who hide these feelings. Who are afraid, like I am, and because of that fear and shame are even more burdened by the struggles they go through…that we go through.

Tonight I just want to encourage those of us triggered and fighting our own minds to keep fighting. That even though no one can see you tearing yourself apart, I know the battle, and I’m here to listen. That the shame won’t always be there if you try little by little to tell it a girl (or boy or gender tag) has no shame. That with time, we can make it, and the current pain will be in the past.

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