nebuloushistory - Hello Poetry

I've been the best friend, the girlfriend, the villain, and the victim. now I don't know who to become.

0

Nov 27, 2019

Nov 27, 2019 at 2:28 PM UTC

I've been the best friend, the girlfriend, the villain, and the victim. now I don't know who to become.

I miss the feelings I got from being high, of belonging to the static in my mind. I miss closing my eyes and just thinking, waking up without a memory of anything besides a feeling I only ever got with a pill or two or ten, but now I'm beside myself feeling things I can't verbalize without beating the words to death, and I can't handle any more death, lost all my energy after creating a eulogy for everyone I tried to be. all the butterflies in my stomach are words I swallowed once upon a time, choked them down, choked on them, and I'm still trying to cough them out all this time later. I know breathing exercises, but I don't think those matter when I can't catch my breath. some things never change.

0

Nov 22, 2019

Nov 22, 2019 at 10:17 PM UTC

nothing left to lose

I miss the feelings I got from being high, of belonging to the static in my mind. I miss closing my eyes and just thinking, waking up without a memory of anything besides a feeling I only ever got with a pill or two or ten, but now I'm beside myself feeling things I can't verbalize without beating the words to death, and I can't handle any more death, lost all my energy after creating a eulogy for everyone I tried to be. all the butterflies in my stomach are words I swallowed once upon a time, choked them down, choked on them, and I'm still trying to cough them out all this time later. I know breathing exercises, but I don't think those matter when I can't catch my breath. some things never change.

18

When I drive, I spend more time looking in the rearview mirror than I do in front of me. No, that isn’t a metaphor, I mean it literally. It’s more appealing to live in memories, forget the trauma as it’s happening. I may never change, but I like living in the illusion of safety.

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Aug 14, 2019

Aug 14, 2019 at 6:27 PM UTC

i mean this literally

When I drive, I spend more time looking in the rearview mirror than I do in front of me. No, that isn’t a metaphor, I mean it literally. It’s more appealing to live in memories, forget the trauma as it’s happening. I may never change, but I like living in the illusion of safety.

4

I have magic in me. I can change my memories to see myself differently.

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Aug 14, 2019

Aug 14, 2019 at 6:21 PM UTC

magic

I have magic in me. I can change my memories to see myself differently.

3

The arms of a stranger feel like home when they hold you just right. I saw the devil in his eyes; I knew he had a past deeper than I could comfortably swim, but none of that matters when “home” feels like more than just a word again. I wanted to feel this feeling before it forgot me but time wouldn’t slow and I couldn’t go anywhere at all without him holding me down. why didn’t I just stay home?

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Aug 14, 2019

Aug 14, 2019 at 6:03 PM UTC

home is where?

The arms of a stranger feel like home when they hold you just right. I saw the devil in his eyes; I knew he had a past deeper than I could comfortably swim, but none of that matters when “home” feels like more than just a word again. I wanted to feel this feeling before it forgot me but time wouldn’t slow and I couldn’t go anywhere at all without him holding me down. why didn’t I just stay home?

8

A pin dropped onto my carpet, but I thought it was a body hitting the floor, ran to check the front door, stopped to watch the cars’ light show. I found no danger but had to check again when I heard a voice two rooms and a floor away whisper, “You don’t need to sleep;” it felt like a dream. I laid back down. All the lullabies I sing when babysitting taste like caffeine. I lie in bed, in between awake and asleep, somewhere between nightmares and reality. The light switch won’t turn off, the sun is right in my eyes, I thought sleep was supposed to come naturally.

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Aug 14, 2019

Aug 14, 2019 at 5:53 PM UTC

insomnia

A pin dropped onto my carpet, but I thought it was a body hitting the floor, ran to check the front door, stopped to watch the cars’ light show. I found no danger but had to check again when I heard a voice two rooms and a floor away whisper, “You don’t need to sleep;” it felt like a dream. I laid back down. All the lullabies I sing when babysitting taste like caffeine. I lie in bed, in between awake and asleep, somewhere between nightmares and reality. The light switch won’t turn off, the sun is right in my eyes, I thought sleep was supposed to come naturally.

8

I hadn't yet grown into my body or my mind, but I never had the time to worry about it. I guess I can see it now when I keep my eyes open, and I remember it was such a hard habit to stop sleeping with one eye open, and I'm afraid of going back. I know my mind is pretty enough when I imagine a garden and even though it might be dying, I'll plant plastic flowers. will anyone notice the difference?

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Jul 24, 2019

Jul 24, 2019 at 2:07 AM UTC

plastic flowers

I hadn't yet grown into my body or my mind, but I never had the time to worry about it. I guess I can see it now when I keep my eyes open, and I remember it was such a hard habit to stop sleeping with one eye open, and I'm afraid of going back. I know my mind is pretty enough when I imagine a garden and even though it might be dying, I'll plant plastic flowers. will anyone notice the difference?

14

He doesn't say my name anymore; not since the first time around. I am baby girl, angel, gorgeous. He hasn't said my name since that day. "Well, ---, I don't think this is going to work." That was the day I drove to the boat ramp at my lake, cut the brakes in my car, and waited. The day I quit my job, dropped out of school, and deleted all of my social media account. The time I dedicated all my free time - and time was all I had anymore - to researching how to recreate that fire in me and then how to treat third-degree burns. The day I learned that time melts like chocolate when you hold it long enough, and it looks a lot like blood on my hands. The day I learned white knuckling memories doesn't mean they seal the fractures between my fingers. The day I learned some things just aren't mine to keep. I've been touchier since that day; just one poke and I'm black and blue - yellow is rare, but it happens sometimes. The doctor gave me some pills to help with the ache, and they keep me pretty full, so I don't know why I still have that gurgle in my stomach almost all the time, why I still have that itch in my veins when something is almost but not quite. I tell myself constantly that a substitute can only hold off the craving for a little, but I need it now, and I never learn.

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Jun 22, 2019

Jun 22, 2019 at 5:09 PM UTC

all this ****** time

He doesn't say my name anymore; not since the first time around. I am baby girl, angel, gorgeous. He hasn't said my name since that day. "Well, ---, I don't think this is going to work." That was the day I drove to the boat ramp at my lake, cut the brakes in my car, and waited. The day I quit my job, dropped out of school, and deleted all of my social media account. The time I dedicated all my free time - and time was all I had anymore - to researching how to recreate that fire in me and then how to treat third-degree burns. The day I learned that time melts like chocolate when you hold it long enough, and it looks a lot like blood on my hands. The day I learned white knuckling memories doesn't mean they seal the fractures between my fingers. The day I learned some things just aren't mine to keep. I've been touchier since that day; just one poke and I'm black and blue - yellow is rare, but it happens sometimes. The doctor gave me some pills to help with the ache, and they keep me pretty full, so I don't know why I still have that gurgle in my stomach almost all the time, why I still have that itch in my veins when something is almost but not quite. I tell myself constantly that a substitute can only hold off the craving for a little, but I need it now, and I never learn.

11

Jumpy. That’s what they’ll call me. The girl who’s jumpy but doesn’t like to go too far from home or too far out of her own head. Jumpy. Around people. From conclusion to conclusion to somewhere way further outside the lines than I should be coloring. Hey, maybe someone came in and scared me and it all happened so fast. You can’t ever fully erase anything, you know? What will they think of me? Will they ask why I left? “I was ***** I will tell them. I may say more. I may not. Either way, my face will burn. Either way, I will regret it. Either way, they will be more lenient with me because I am glass and they don’t want to have to pay for what they break. I am not worth the extra $2.50 out of their bank accounts. Do they all feel like this? This daze, where even when they’re wearing their glasses, the furniture blends into the floor blends into the walls blends into the ceiling blends into the doorways and they can’t see the exit either? The people moving in front of them are the ants that I stared at for hours at a time outside my father’s house in over 100 degree weather because anything is better than rat infestations. Anything is better than hands all over you. Anything is better than the drunkenness that permeates throughout the house, and yes, it is contagious. Yes, I am contagious. You will want to wash me off of you before you even touch me. That’s okay, I do it too. Only it won’t stay off of me. I live inside of myself, but not really. There is not that solid final Russian doll inside the others. That is not me, and it never will be. And I’m sorry if you’re wasting your time looking, because you just will never find her. And that’s something you will have to either accept or move on from. So which will it be?

0

Mar 11, 2019

Mar 11, 2019 at 5:50 PM UTC

outtamyskin

Jumpy. That’s what they’ll call me. The girl who’s jumpy but doesn’t like to go too far from home or too far out of her own head. Jumpy. Around people. From conclusion to conclusion to somewhere way further outside the lines than I should be coloring. Hey, maybe someone came in and scared me and it all happened so fast. You can’t ever fully erase anything, you know? What will they think of me? Will they ask why I left? “I was ***** I will tell them. I may say more. I may not. Either way, my face will burn. Either way, I will regret it. Either way, they will be more lenient with me because I am glass and they don’t want to have to pay for what they break. I am not worth the extra $2.50 out of their bank accounts. Do they all feel like this? This daze, where even when they’re wearing their glasses, the furniture blends into the floor blends into the walls blends into the ceiling blends into the doorways and they can’t see the exit either? The people moving in front of them are the ants that I stared at for hours at a time outside my father’s house in over 100 degree weather because anything is better than rat infestations. Anything is better than hands all over you. Anything is better than the drunkenness that permeates throughout the house, and yes, it is contagious. Yes, I am contagious. You will want to wash me off of you before you even touch me. That’s okay, I do it too. Only it won’t stay off of me. I live inside of myself, but not really. There is not that solid final Russian doll inside the others. That is not me, and it never will be. And I’m sorry if you’re wasting your time looking, because you just will never find her. And that’s something you will have to either accept or move on from. So which will it be?

7

I. Put a hand on your stomach. Diaphragmatic breathing eases anxiety. So does counting. I count how many times my stomach rises until my pulse lowers. II. Grounding keeps your feet on Earth, your mind in the present. It's called 5-4-3-2-1, but I never get to one. Five things I see: starting with all the ashes of things I've burned - cigarettes to incense to old pictures of us; posters haphazardly taped to my wall threatening to fall off at any second; feathers of my dreamcatcher tangling together; my ceiling fan rocking from side to side; an emptiness that fills the room, painted in the white on the walls. Four things I can touch: grasping at words that are working against me; the oils of my sweating hands, nervously binding me to my human exterior; everything else is too far away to touch. Three things I hear: the drumming of my anxious fingers on anything nearby; the scribble of my pen; my thoughts demanding to find something that will get me heard. Hush, please. Hush. III. Your name still carves itself onto my tongue and settles in my dreams. You always were good at making yourself feel at home. IV. I am the type of girl whose entire body becomes whatever color I am dying my hair. Today, I am red. V. I don't feel the words slide off my tongue anymore. I barely notice them. I watch them jab at you, and I feel bad. I don't mean them. VI. "You aren't looking at the whole picture." The canvas is too big. I'll take a step back. My therapist says I take too many steps back. I'm just trying to see the whole picture. VII. The foggy weather proves that I can keep my feet on Earth and my head in the clouds. I feel my eyes wide as a deer as I remember my first love telling me deer are the most stupid animals, that they deserve to die, hours after telling me I remind him of one. VIII. That sinking feeling in your stomach doesn't only occur on roller coasters. IX. My head rests in the space behind closed eyes, the one where shapes and faces appear and disappear as they please. I see a door floating in that space, and I lock my emotions in there since you hand me the ones I should feel as necessary. X. There are days I see people as people instead of the feelings they give me - dread, anger, fear, love. Their ****** features soften and become more human. Today is one of those days. XI. Today, I see you as human instead of the feelings you give me. Your ****** features harden, the look you give me is literally shocking. I feel more fear than love. XII. I fear the sound of slamming doors. They sound like you. They are rough, and I am weak. XIII. She showed me a song while singing along. I wanted to hang onto that feeling, so I listened to it alone. It's not the same. XIV. I'm talking right now, but they're unimportant words. They'll be forgotten in the next five minutes. Would you believe me, saying that I once had gardens in my mind?

0

Jul 21, 2017

Jul 21, 2017 at 7:45 PM UTC

Down Days

I. Put a hand on your stomach. Diaphragmatic breathing eases anxiety. So does counting. I count how many times my stomach rises until my pulse lowers. II. Grounding keeps your feet on Earth, your mind in the present. It's called 5-4-3-2-1, but I never get to one. Five things I see: starting with all the ashes of things I've burned - cigarettes to incense to old pictures of us; posters haphazardly taped to my wall threatening to fall off at any second; feathers of my dreamcatcher tangling together; my ceiling fan rocking from side to side; an emptiness that fills the room, painted in the white on the walls. Four things I can touch: grasping at words that are working against me; the oils of my sweating hands, nervously binding me to my human exterior; everything else is too far away to touch. Three things I hear: the drumming of my anxious fingers on anything nearby; the scribble of my pen; my thoughts demanding to find something that will get me heard. Hush, please. Hush. III. Your name still carves itself onto my tongue and settles in my dreams. You always were good at making yourself feel at home. IV. I am the type of girl whose entire body becomes whatever color I am dying my hair. Today, I am red. V. I don't feel the words slide off my tongue anymore. I barely notice them. I watch them jab at you, and I feel bad. I don't mean them. VI. "You aren't looking at the whole picture." The canvas is too big. I'll take a step back. My therapist says I take too many steps back. I'm just trying to see the whole picture. VII. The foggy weather proves that I can keep my feet on Earth and my head in the clouds. I feel my eyes wide as a deer as I remember my first love telling me deer are the most stupid animals, that they deserve to die, hours after telling me I remind him of one. VIII. That sinking feeling in your stomach doesn't only occur on roller coasters. IX. My head rests in the space behind closed eyes, the one where shapes and faces appear and disappear as they please. I see a door floating in that space, and I lock my emotions in there since you hand me the ones I should feel as necessary. X. There are days I see people as people instead of the feelings they give me - dread, anger, fear, love. Their ****** features soften and become more human. Today is one of those days. XI. Today, I see you as human instead of the feelings you give me. Your ****** features harden, the look you give me is literally shocking. I feel more fear than love. XII. I fear the sound of slamming doors. They sound like you. They are rough, and I am weak. XIII. She showed me a song while singing along. I wanted to hang onto that feeling, so I listened to it alone. It's not the same. XIV. I'm talking right now, but they're unimportant words. They'll be forgotten in the next five minutes. Would you believe me, saying that I once had gardens in my mind?

98