I don't know who this is for,
Who's address I would put on the envelope.
I have a few people in mind,
But I don't know if sending this to them would be the best idea.
I guess it's an open letter to my younger self.
My 15 year old self who was thrown into chaos,
Who walked into a crowd of scheming, malicious friends.
Friends? You ask.
Yes they were my friends,
And they fought,
And stole,
And clawed their way to the top of a power structure,
Just to have it all tumbling down.
I was there the entire time.
Never clawing,
Or climbing,
Just trying to hold everyone together,
Keep everyone' s peace of mind,
While I lost my own.
What they never realized,
What I barely realized,
Was that as they played the game,
Learned the rules,
Learned to win and lose,
I forgot those rules.
Forgot is too nice,
I ignored them.
I lost my head making sure everyone kept theirs,
And when the dust settled,
When everyone took off their masks and assessed the damage,
I was there.
At the top
Alone.
No one noticed,
They were to busy pointing fingers.
While they were busy throwing metaphorical stones and spears,
I was placing land mines,
And trip wires.
At the end of the day,
When the battle was over,
It was me and me alone at the top.
The victor,
The one who had amassed all the power and influence my friends were desperately trying to hold on to.
I am still here,
Pondering my morality,
Pondering how ******* lonely it is.
Because while they built the pedestal,
Put me on top of it,
And surrendered without even realizing it,
They also isolated themselves from me.
And me from them.
And they have yet to realize the war they have lost.
While they were busy throwing insults,
Calling each other monsters,
They never even looked at me,
Or noticed me.
I sat there,
The most power hungry,
Conniving,
And ambitious one of all.
I sat at the top,
And no one even noticed.
So to my 15 year old self,
Who was thrown into the fire,
And learned to lie,
And cheat,
And steal,
Who learned to not only survive,
But conquer them all-
I notice you.
And I fear the day you get to show your true colors again.
Apr 4, 2019
Apr 4, 2019 at 3:04 PM UTC
No one ever truly prepares you for your first heartbreak.
The crushing, earth shattering impact,
It leaves you breathless,
Barely standing,
Knowing that you should be able to move on, but being unable to.
But then you do,
Move on, that is.
It's growth,
It's wonderful,
A journey of self-discovery and worth.
No.
No one can every truly prepare you for that first punch,
That first blow.
The real kicker though,
the one that knocks you to the ground,
It's the one you weren't expecting.
The one that can hit you at any point in your life.
The one where you were too caught up in your own **** to see it,
To know your heart,
To recognize that the love you always wanted was possible,
It was right there.
Too caught up in yourself to see that he was there,
Waiting.
And you left him there,
Waiting.
You didn't catch up with what he already knew,
And now he's gone.
The inside of you heart feel full of ick and filth,
Like it will never truly be pure,
Or whole,
Or anything close to okay again.
It's a disease,
And you are the virus,
The pathogen.
The source.
The unexpected heartbreak is the one you should be worried about.
I can't prepare you,
But I can try.
Mar 29, 2019
Mar 29, 2019 at 12:42 PM UTC
what silly things are boundaries,
imaginary lines that tell people what they can and can't do.
i can not tell you what my boundaries look like,
for i never had them.
i was a child of use,
every aspect of me was someone else's.
so when my therapist decreed boundaries as my way to light,
as my ticket to mental health salvation,
i did my best.
it was pathetic really.
please don't touch me,
i said in the nicest most placating way i could,
i just don't really like it.
i tried and i failed.
for a child who was so used to achievement,
this failure hit me hard.
it was pathetic.
absolutely pathetic.
what was pathetic?
how easily those who were supposed to listen to me,
support me,
love me,
steamrolled that whimsy little fence i called a boundary.
they annihilated it,
dropped a metaphoric nuke on it with their sneers and greed.
no war is ever won in the first battle though.
so i will keep trying.
Feb 26, 2019
Feb 26, 2019 at 5:36 PM UTC
Most days I live a normal life.
Normal,
Average,
Unextrordinary life.
It does little to bother me.
In fact,
I revel in it.
For someone who has been at war with the world for so long,
I find that monotony suits me.
But all it takes is a slight tremor,
An unexpected change in plans,
Something that harkens to older days,
Earlier tragedies,
Battles lost and scars faded.
It doesn’t take much to call to the beast inside of me,
The monster that so fiercely protects my broken soul.
And I have yet to learn how to recognize when there is a shadow playing with my mind,
Or an actual threat.
Jan 26, 2019
Jan 26, 2019 at 9:12 PM UTC
The clock reads 4:30.
My friend is using the bathroom.
That must've been what woke me up.
Although I wish,
I know that is not true.
That frozen feeling in my chest
Resounds with my heartbeat,
Thumping faster and faster as I close my eyes.
My fitbit reads 75 bpm,
I know that can't be true,
It's going faster,
So much faster.
I try to sleep,
But images fill my head.
Dreams, or my own thoughts,
I can no longer tell.
I can't discern them,
All I know is that I am scared,
And right as I touch sleep,
I am jolted awake,
By an erratic heart,
And threatening images.
There is no screaming,
thrashing,
I am not awake enough to escape,
But not asleep enough to give in.
It is an all night war with my terror,
I'm not paralyzed,
I can move around,
But it follows.
It always follows.
Sep 3, 2018
Sep 3, 2018 at 1:13 PM UTC
Often times I don’t know how I am.
That one question holds so many possibilities,
And I can’t narrow them down to one.
How are you?
I’m not sure to be honest.
There are days I feel a raging inferno,
Where fire burns my insides,
making me curse the world that’s brought me to this point.
But other times, it’s a tidal wave of sorrow.
In those times I can’t even muster the energy to swim.
I’d rather let the world drown me than care about it for another second.
The worst times though are the happy ones.
They usually follow the wave and flame.
It’s like my emotions decided that they’ve had enough of one extreme,
And that it’s time to swing to the next.
I know these happy feelings won’t last-
As soon as that song ends,
As soon as I return to reality,
I will return to nothing.
Because I know this happiness is not a reflection of how I truly feel,
But a valiant effort to hide the storms inside of me.
So when people ask me,
How are you?
I say I’m fine.
I’ve gotten quite good at hiding anything,
Everything.
I am scared to acknowledge the natural disaster that is my soul,
For I fear that one day it will be my end.
Jul 10, 2018
Jul 10, 2018 at 12:14 AM UTC
When it finally hits me,
It’s no stunning realization.
Time,
People,
They both seem to ebb and flow around me.
Pushing, shoving, guiding, needing.
I’m in the current of life.
In this river of time and space,
I look for a life raft,
A float,
Anything to bring a spark back to my body,
To make me want to fight again.
But it is in the dead of the night,
In this current that continues to throw me around,
That I realize I am alone,
And no one is coming for me.
Jun 24, 2018
Jun 24, 2018 at 11:34 PM UTC
In my mind it’s so easy.
We meet by chance,
Fall in love,
Happy ending.
But reality is a different story,
It is one written by anxiety and pain.
I’m tired of being lonely.
I know there are friends there.
But I crave intimacy,
Affection.
It is hard though,
When every possible candidate is met with fear,
With anxiety over some day having to say no.
With some day having to walk on glass,
Because I have to say I don’t feel the same way.
I want to chase my fears with alcohol,
Get drunk and let the night roll.
But that’s what got me here.
It is not my duty or obligation to meet their demands,
To fulfill their needs,
And I refuse to let alcohol be their tool to use my body.
Jun 12, 2018
Jun 12, 2018 at 9:35 PM UTC
3 things
I remember 3 things
I got in the car with him.
He came in me.
He kicked me out at 6 in the morning.
I remember 3 things,
Because I was drunk.
I probably consented,
But I don’t really remember.
It wasn’t **** though.
I took that risk when drinking so much.
I mean, it’s really my fault.
I don’t know if it was consensual
Did I want it?
I don’t remember.
I know sober me did not.
Either way, I was drunk.
So it’s not ****
It’s regret.
Jun 8, 2018
Jun 8, 2018 at 10:11 PM UTC
There was a time where I relished his drunk touch.
The feeling on the dance floor,
Of his lips on mine,
His hands on my waist.
I felt power from his touch.
It affirmed what I wanted to feel-
I wanted to feel beautiful,
dangerous,
fierce.
I believed for a while that his drunk attention proved these things to be true.
Now I know differently.
Now that our drunk love has burned out,
I understand I am the only one who can make these things true.
I will no longer find power in drunk love.
I will find power in myself.
Dec 10, 2017
Dec 10, 2017 at 3:42 PM UTC