Sid-Eli
American
Born and raised in Queens, NY Sid started writing as a little "girl". Beginnings were twisted poems that scared her teachers stemming from Edger Allen Poe. Created fictional short stories that were surrealistic and hitting home. She started a collection of journals once she realized they were consistent in her life, each journal dedicated to a person. She studied at community college, loved all her English Professors that she gained respect from and her work was featured in classes. N.Y.U hit the harsh reality of research methods, research proposals and lit reviews, she picked taboo subjects (BDSM, Gender Identity Disorder, Risk sexual activity). Writing workshop it was filled with privileged non diverse students and she retaliated with bizarre writing. Snarky sense of humor, tends to shamelessly aim for the mellow dramatic while twisting into a smile. Short stories, free style poems, Sid's style is more of spoken word written out on a computer screen for your viewing pleasure.
I wake up and there aren't tears
There aren't fears
My heart isn't pounding
I wake up and feel that I went through something but its a blur and suddenly I then remember
I fight those traumatic events and push it back in my head
You won't ruin my day, no one will
I am me and I am my own person and this feels so good
I can play whatever music I want
I keep speak to my online friends without insults
I can use the dryer and vacuum without your permission
I can finally smile and honestly that makes me cry
Tears of happiness that I got out of this
I didn't know if I would ever
I was so stuck on wanting you to love me
I realized now loving yourself doesn't mean just having self esteem, it means taking care of yourself and no longer allowing harmful people to return in your life
I go outside and feel the breeze, I look at the trees, I see all the people outside their porches enjoying the sun, I see the bird and squirrels and I tell myself, I am so lucky. I am so **** lucky to be alive.
I dont believe in a God but there is a purpose that I survive so much in my life. I was told that escaping this makes me the bravest person, and that it's admirable.
I then start to see myself in the mirror, my bruises fading. I see my reflection but I don't know what else there is.
For I am a creature of connecting to other humans, nature and art. My reflection is just me.
I sip this bottle of wine knowing I am safe, I am not masking any feelings and I am enjoying myself.
I am enjoying myself?! Wait what?!
Oct 24, 2024
Oct 24, 2024 at 7:00 PM UTC
Laying there with my bruises exposed
"I'm sorry sweetheart this must of been going on for a while, I am so so sorry" as he puts needles inside my mouth and stitches me up
The feeling of a doctor apologizing to me, for what I went through for 11 months feels so vacant in my heart.
How could I have been so stupid, this is humiliating, you're sorry and so am I.
I'm so sorry that this happened to me too, but I am also wishing wallowing and weeping over the mere fact that we called each other "twin" we were only a day a part. Your parents are visiting and we were suppose to go to Eugene and have fun. I was his "forever explosion" as he stated it. "Explosion" as in my behavior always filled with anxiety stress and fear symbolizing the downfall of what it is now.
Laying on a hospital bed not knowing where I am going next.
As I reflect on who I am...
I am a nurturer and I now realize I was enabling, my love was enabling his bad behavior? What? How could I possibly....yea its all my fault. You did this Sid. No one else. Its all on you. You are here for a reason "you are the one out of control".
Beep beep beep
Just checking your blood pressure
"Am I getting out of here soon?"
"We are waiting for the police" the nurse states "you cannot just go back there without them".
15 hours go by, no sign of any of his concern or "are you ok" I wonder what these hours felt for you.
"I filled all your belongings up with garbage bags you can see them outside when you're out of the hospital"
...
My soul is wrecked. I just kept trying and trying to avoid conflict.
Every waking day I woke up in fear with tears in my eyes wanting it all to be over with.
What life is that?
Tears rushing down my face, **** me off. Why should I be the one crying.
When they took you away I did not know how to feel, I told them I did not want to see.
Now I'm here and you are no where and my life is starting all over.
I am free of agony, I am free of those fears, I am free trying to resolve any conflict that may arise late at night while you are drunk. I no longer have to hear ***** fat **** ***** loser mentally ill crazy loser a no one, a piece of **** stupid, useless, just someone to use and not care or love for, how my dad is dead and how my mother is fat, how I have no real friends and the online community I have are pathetic.
I hate alcohol. I hate what it does to people. "Dont listen to what I say when I'm mad I say every possible thing to harm you".
But even without it, people
are just people
filled with their own trauma
filled with their own lies they tell themselves to get by
People like that, that hurt others over love
Never experience true love or happiness
They just live, emotionless, can to mouth, sports in the eyes, the click of the remote.
You say you are a poet, but your poetry *****
Not to say mine doesn't.
Remember when I bought all of your books? Read them outloud to my friends. I was so proud I finally found someone who "cares" for me.
But once you tossed that Christmas ordainment out the window like it was nothing, made me realize one day that ordainment will be me.
Oct 19, 2024
Oct 19, 2024 at 5:39 PM UTC
It's been a while since I vented about my life. So here it goes. I have been severely depressed for years, and go through daily anxiety attacks that leave me sobbing and alone in my apartment. I can't think of anything that could make me happy right now and that is very scary. I ty to reach out to people but its so freaking hard to get the amount of support I need and it's exhausting. I try so hard to make myself better and I don't feel like I have any control over myself because of my emotions and how they are so severe and make me panic and cry my eyes out hoping it will somehow stop in my brain. Ive been close to those disturbing thoughts. It started with me realizing my bank account is close to 0, and I somehow thought having take out was okay almost every other day. I miss being able to talk to people in person but even then I had so much anxiety, too much that I couldn't even bare it. I was utterly destroyed that I couldn't enjoy all my time with my best friend. My life has gone so down hill since Ive been associating with people that hurt me, and I end up alone and finding myself in agonizing chronic pain and nothing could stop it. I miss my animal, I am so ******* sad he passed. I miss being able to hold him, and it comforted me. That also makes me feel awful because that sounds so selfish, but at the same time my animal loved me too and I miss his healing energy. I feel absolutely insane writing this, and I wish I knew what has gotten into me. It begins to worry me. My memory issues. Everything worries me. My chronic pain. My dental issues. Everything is stuck in my mind and I cant just get it out of my head. I hate it and it doesn't allow me to appreciate my life, and that makes me feel ungrateful. I do have my own space, I am away from negativity and I am working on myself but I can't help but cry and feel destroyed over my illnesses ruling my life, ruling my brain, ruling everything I do.
Oct 23, 2021
Oct 23, 2021 at 6:01 PM UTC
Hi baby girl. I figured I would type you up a letter instead. I just wanted to imagine that you're here and I am reading this to me while I cuddle up to you. My life has been extremely hectic filled with emotions. I want to thank you for being there in whatever way you could. You are so talented and beautiful. I really think its hot that you have all the skills and artistic value. I want to see you play live one day. I think you grew a lot with me at least knowing triggers. Even if things go crashing down I still want to hold your hand and be next to you. Its very difficult to have this seperation and it makes me sad most of the time. I tell my self it's going to happen. You so gorgeous babe, I'm proud to have you.
Feb 15, 2020
Feb 15, 2020 at 10:26 AM UTC
I see rivers
Washing away the left over dust
Ashes within the air
The world is on fire
I see dandelions
Blowing up into the air
Endless wishing, wanting, yearning
Where will the remains end up?
I see eyes
That genuinely smile back at me
That clenches my heart and surrounds me with warmth
All at the same time
But where will this end up?
I see you
Holding me bare flesh and flesh
As you embrace me with your touch
But hold on...
Do you want to be with me?
I see myself
Holding my heart with my hand over my chest
Unable to realize what I have lost
Was it even there?
I see an endless dialogue
Filled with angst, resentment, despair
As you tell me...
"I've been thinking"
"No, I don't want to be with you"
I see gifts
Left in the graveyard of my small chaotic room
They were meant for something, someone, me
These gifts are memorials of the memory
Of you.
I feel you, beloved
You are still there within distances and the faint memory of your smell
I can't help to love you
But these memories are here to withstand
The jolting realization
"I don't want you. It ends here"
Aug 23, 2015
Aug 23, 2015 at 5:47 PM UTC
Second Person Narrative
Basement Studio
You always told me I would be a good girl; locks that shine golden red fall upon my pale dimpled cheeks. (Smile little girl, we are taking your picture). As soon as the set is over you plop down to the couch and say “Baby, why don’t you get me a cold beer” and you then start clicking away at the television trying to find the loudest, most obnoxious channel. Even though my legs are weak and my body is bruised you still make me a slave for you. You say, “Hey what’s taking you so long? I don’t pay you for nothing!” and laugh in a tone that makes me think of driving a sharp knife through your worthless body part, that you pride so much. Your eyes lock instantly to this one commercial of a guy feeding his panting dog, you chuckle lightly.
You told me I would love this experience, that it would be professional and beneficial for my career. Every night you roll into bed with a smirk of content and feel as though you are successful, you are powerful; you are the proudest photographer and most of all: you have a young girl at your side, every single day of your most pathetic life. Before you fall asleep you immediately think about the door. Is it locked from the inside? We don’t want your sweet little girl escaping to the harsh cold world. You think you are protecting me. You think that I deserve this.
This night is different from most nights. You sigh, and then begin to have a pain in your chest and your mind becomes full. Images of your life start flashing in your mind. You then start thinking in your head (something you don’t often do). You think of your mother, the one that kicked you out when you were only fifteen years old. You still have plans of going back there and giving her a piece of your mind (if you have one). You think of Tony, the slob who always has some random food on his shirt who owes you thousands for the stuff you have given him during the years. You think about tomorrow, the photos you want to take of me, and the poses you want to put me in. I’m your little doll, your little play thing, I’m the one who is going to make you big in the industry. Will this achievement, help your tragic pathetic life? We all have problems, but why put this out on me? Does my pain give you a rise? Does this make you feel accomplished? Of course my voice will never be heard, my mouth is only good to turn people one. I know that when I wear red lip stick (the signature of my character), you stop for a second and think of your baby sister, because when she was a little girl she use to wear your mothers shoes and put bright red lip stick on her lips and smudge it all over her teeth.
You miss her; you often worry about whether or not she’s okay. You remember the times you use to play with her in the back yard, ***** tires being swung, wet soggy grass between your toes, burnt red skin and warm kool-aid. Here you are being successful and she’s in the streets, probably selling her body for a profit. You then think, maybe you are wrong for keeping this innocent girl here, you suddenly become human with emotions. But then you go back to convincing yourself that it isn't that bad, I wanted it. I came to you anyway. You then softly fall asleep; your worries don’t bother you. Tomorrow your plans entail tying me up and allowing a little blood to show.
Aug 25, 2014
Aug 25, 2014 at 9:24 PM UTC
© Sid Eli Theo
Please meet me now
I forever want to see your pretty face
Because beauty is within my eyes and I see you
as this pretty thing
Tell me more, I want to hear your voice
as you say out loud you aren't even
ready
I ignore it and still look at you with gleaming eyes
I want a kiss
I put my arms around you
And ask what do you think I am thinking
As I hold on tight
And go in for the kiss
But you push away and say no.
No. Is my answer.
I am not a pretty little thing.
I am someone looking for something
to connect with this feeling
that life is ending soon
and we are all just souls
holding on to the edges of the melting ***
looking for sincerity.
Learn boundaries folks, no one wants a pushy creep.
Apr 12, 2014
Apr 12, 2014 at 3:45 AM UTC
© Cynthia Eli Theo
At age of 26, I finally found my fix
It was a chick, with a crazy haircut (you thought I was going to say d*ck)
and imitation chucks
The intimate moments
Hoodie up , fake fur, against the wall.
The moment I saw you, was our first kiss.
As requested:
"I always wanted to kiss someone as soon as I laid eyes on them"
Wish granted.
****
I remember in the gay bar, when you first called me ***
You were so accommodating
Ending with the night of a three way dance off on the dance floor, me in the middle of the
sandwich.
Can you imagine what happened with us later on in life?
That twisted dreams became a reality and it
became hurt.
You swore you were a God(dess)
with no dresses
or heels
Only messed up hand me downs
And no eyebrows
I looked back on logs and you said the "I love yous" and "be mine" within the first moments.
Reflecting on my thoughts
How CRAZY.
You were my love
and I was yours
we were infinity infamous
Mental illness
Cheating
Drug Abuse
Insecurities got a hold of our throats
Slitting us apart
Self blaming; It's all my fault.
I created this disaster, right?
Baby, do you hear me?
Boy do I blame myself for this mess-up
Bat-shit crazy relationship chaotic lovely ****** energy
Lack thereof.
Lip locking, hair pulling, scratching
Enter warmth and lovingly caressing
Screaming out "I love you!" but "I'm hurting"
"Shut up" was your last words.
I decided it was enough.
as Do you still have my letter?
I wrote it to you, with personal wetness of tears shedding
as you peacefully slept on my bed.
And now you sit still in your room
Itching away, crawling up the walls
as I type this poem on my lonely laptop
I reach out to you, blowing you a kiss
Hoping it was a never a goodbye.
Mar 27, 2014
Mar 27, 2014 at 9:44 PM UTC
She sighs with relief but also despair. The reason why she doesn't like her strawberry blonde curls and requirement to dress feminine are reasons beyond comprehension for her. She always felt that something deep inside her wanted to be Ben. He's Irish, filled with charisma, independent success and sure knows how to wear a thin gold chain. He gets the looks as he walks down the city streets and everyone memorized by his swag. He sings about the pacific northwest with extreme pride, and describes Seattle hip-hop community, human rights issues and major league baseball. She wanted to get fitted flannels, various colored slacks, suave kicks and shave the side of her hair.
While she was going through an abusive relationship when her lover had fallen to a secondary abuse (to only replace the first one), she listened to his words, we are not alone and things are ****** up but there might be a way out. The memories of going down the block during who knows what time, to smoke her pipe and dodge people completely. Endlessly walking down the streets and pondering....blank. Anxiety slowly creeping as she knows her partner is coming home, a full panic sets in and she isn't prepared for whats to come. It's laundry day, which means X amount of time for her to get angry with me, argue and sit there with emotional chaos. It is hard for her to think of these things because she didn't want to believe this was her reality, and she didn't know how to get out. She had bruises on her body that she can't keep track if it was to get away or not, she never set blame on anyone causing them. Endless nights of constant panic and worry, with her partner slamming out the door and walking around aimlessly and never returning. And when she was alone...totally encapsulated, bed ridden and locking up the doors. Rent was day was always a threat, and so was the debt she had owed me. Oh, and that promise ring that never came that she was so selfish to want, but she wanted to feel special, she wanted to feel loved. She wanted to know why this kept happening to her.
Nothing could make this feeling go away, because the same thing has happened again and she cannot bare to compare. The hopes of rebuilding are there. It's just that mental illness is getting in the way.
She notices she passed out while smoking, turns on her PC and starts another shift.
Mar 21, 2014
Mar 21, 2014 at 10:46 PM UTC
She opened her eyes and realized the day is here. Some light glowing through her tiny basement window, we're lucky to just have some glow. That's the Pacific Northwest alright. Seasonal depression is a trend, you know? She knew she had an obligation today and she had to at least somewhat prepare for whats to come. She didn't want to get ready, she wanted to lay in bed with her kitten and imagine life without rules and regulations, bills and break ups, roommates that make too much noise and the dripping furnace in her room. She noticed she wore her red robe to bed and had total bed head (she always had a mirror right next to her bed, secretly to check up on any imperfections to avoid for the day). She got up, dragging her slippers on the floor and hardly dealing with the sun in her eyes. She went for her fridge hoping there was something to eat in it, gave up and sipped some orange juice (it's been days since she has...). She returned to her cave of a room and grabbed her raggedy make up bag. She hated this process, this wasn't her. It was uncomfortable to wear eyeliner, getting into her eyeballs, it's just not natural! Sliding pale pink lipstick across her lips and puckering up into the mirror with only a somewhat decent effort. Yes, she's crazy, I'm not sure Courtney Love status crazy, though. She put her hand on her neck and remembered last night. Full of regret even though nothing happened. She looked at her neck through the mirror trying to find evidence of her lover. Nothing was there, not even the feeling of soreness. But why? All the sudden she feels it come on. Get ready, it's time for a panic attack! It first starts with a tightness in the chest, heart pounding and you feel it in your head, trying to breathe and realizing this ***** and then the wake up call that something is wrong, closing in on the throat and the feeling that this will never end. She goes to her medication bottle and realize there's only 4 left. Knowing this tragic news, she questioned whether or not this is a big enough crisis. She felt like a fiend anytime she took them, or needed them because that's what her twisted psychiatrist put in her head.
She takes the pill, downing old water from the night before. She sits down on her bed and turns her computer on. Fidgeting and fill of worry. Sigh. I don't want this day to begin, if yesterday wasn't over. Let's avoid the mellow dramatic and move on to what I have to do. She then goes for her underwear drawer and picks out the pinkest, frilliest piece of underwear she could find and of course, all the rest of her body was bare. She never liked wearing them, let alone clothing. They were uncomfortable and it wasn't that desirable to wear it all for other peoples eyes. She wants to stay in her male boxer shorts that are a little too big for her. She then slid everything on so fast. Look at the time 2:09 PM, just a few more minutes until it starts. She logs in automatically and sits down, adjusts the lights and makes sure the camera is working. She prepares herself.
Later on she now is under the blankets trying to forget what she did today. The aching pain never going away and it is constantly in her mind on how she is alone, with no one cradling her or telling her its okay. She knows that she needs to make the money, in order to live, but if this is living, what is life? It's okay though, she made 1,800 gold coins today and that covers rent. Rent, credit card bills, always checking her balance freaking out that she doesn't even have bus fair to get food or go on interviews.
This is a sob story, about someone who is ultimately ridiculous and very very very determined.
Mar 20, 2014
Mar 20, 2014 at 5:15 PM UTC