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2.2k · Aug 2018
dear darkness
Biz Aug 2018
I find most of my comfort in the dark.

I remember turning off the lights and lying on my carpet. It was stripped of color and made with bamboo. I’d take a throw pillow, covered in bright green and blue paisley, from my bed and sink it into the earth. My left cheek pushed down on the cushion until it could not go lower. My eyes closed and my knees bent to my chest. And I was back. Back in my most comfortable and trusted space.

My doorknob was round. I knew every inch— my hand got to know it every day. It aided me in shutting out the light, keeping me confined in a space that had proved to be so safe.

Today, when I seek my old space and companion I reach out for my doorknob. Instead of my round ****, it’s now a broken handle. Instead of the carpet, it’s a woven mat made out of banana leaves. I find ways to mirror my past because in darkness, there was evident light and with light, there was abundant darkness.

It has been 7 years since I met my old space and companion and I still reach for my doorknob almost every day without fail. It's with whom I think I can find my lost inspiration, and it's with whom I can cry without seeing my tears fall down my face. Nothing in the dark counts. Not the hours of TV I watch or the hours of sleep I fall victim to. I like spending time that doesn't count, and how sad does that feel to admit in written words.

Starting today, I'm forcing myself to count all my time. Companions, as great as they can be, can also sink you lower than you can imagine. Goodbyes are hard but are also promised in every stage in our life, and to use a goodbye to aid in your health is a beautiful way to practice.

So, dear darkness, thank you for all that you have given to me over the past 7 years. It was a comfort to know that you were always waiting for me, whether it was in the middle of the day or when the sun had already disappeared. You're a constant friend when many have not been. Your respect and loyalty does not fall short of my appreciation and consolation. Thank you.

With a loss comes a hole and with a hole comes a desire to fulfill. A companion itself cannot be replaced but its hole can be reformed, reworked and remolded. I've chosen to shape you into a healthy alternative, one that feeds on light and on counting time. Your new personality is beautiful and worthy, and here are its most essential parts:

(1).     Spend time near water. Water reminds us that we can indeed fly. Gravity exists but so does buoyancy, and there are times when our mind feels trapped in gravity, making buoyancy a critical healer to our bodies and our minds.

(2).    Take so many risks knowing that with risk comes inspiration, and with inspiration comes life. I've existed both in a safe and comfortable sphere and in a world of unfamiliarity and uncertainty. Learning in the former is difficult and confined. It has been done before and it has been exhausted. The latter is unique and fleeting. We have all the time to be safe and sheltered but less time to let ourselves fall into the opportunity of learning about ourselves when we are uncomfortable, the state that teaches us the absolute most.

(3).  Build endorphins every day, whether than means walking for 30 minutes or dancing for 2 hours. Do something. Get up and out. Allow yourself to create a healthy environment to cradle your brain.

(4).    Read words that feed your soul, like Emily Nagoski's Come As You Are, one of the most fulfilling and rewarding texts I have ever read. Give yourself permission to transform every day, in the smallest to largest way possible.

(5).    Turn your phone off. Studies have shown us again and again that social media can be unhealthy for our minds, so why do we engage every hour of the day?

(6).    Write something. There are stories I can only say in written word. Write them down because you and everyone else on the planet will never live today again or ever.

(7).    Allow yourself to be so vulnerable that you weep. No one is how they appear. Admitting this lets us exist near the earth, so close to nature and so connected to each other. This, you will almost never regret.

(8).    Let yourself connect with someone for the amount of time it is meant to fulfill. Nothing lasts forever and some people will occupy short times in your life and that is ok. It's more than ok. It's beautiful. Every relationship shapes our future, and our future should always learn from our past. Hold every person in the space they naturally occupy and thank them for the time they have passed with you. It is invaluable and you will never experience it again.

(9).    Exist with people who aren't like you, whether than means people who have different political opinions than you or people who grew up across the world from you. Exist. Because you are the smallest part of the story of the universe and not recognizing that will limit your world immensely.

(10).    Meditate. Practice mindfulness which will allow you to recognize how you feel about your feelings (one of the most important life lessons you can learn according to Emily Nagoski) and what feeds your soul and what doesn't.

(11).     Eat two different green things a day. You are what you eat, after all.

As long as I occupy one piece of this new personality a day, I believe the grief I feel for darkness will fade. And with its fading will come light. So much light that I can't believe I have been living without. And one day I hope you will choose to join me.
360 · Aug 2018
how to hold my body
Biz Aug 2018
I can’t hold up my body anymore. It has been melting down my spine since its existence and now I can’t keep up.

My eyes won’t reach the ground. They stay elevated, as if unable to acknowledge what lies melted on the earth. As if doing so would take away their sight. As if doing so, would mean that the pain isn’t real.

I would never ask you to stare at my feet. You’d miss everything. You wouldn’t be able to greet people who walk past like you do, or see how beautiful the world can be. You would be trapped. Your eyes would be scarred. They wouldn’t be the color brown that I love— they would be strained with something I fear.

I didn’t know that what I was doing wasn’t healing. But how should I have known, with a soul so tender she can be broken with one breath out of place. So I hold my breath. Promising her I won’t break and all the while knowing that it’s a promise I can’t keep.

So I watch my body melt. Melt with broken promises and a failure to recognize the support it craves. Because it wants to pretend it’s filled with steel when really, it’s hollow.

You want to hold my body up with your hands. Your weight, you say, is strong enough. You promise to fill my hollow walls.

But you’re not the first, and that’s something you have to know. Many have taken their hands and tried to push my soul back together. Fill my walls. But not one has been structurally sound. Who gave you permission to surpass them? Who gave you the strength not to leave?
Biz Aug 2018
You found me when I was already ripped. I was torn in places that you didn’t know existed, places I didn’t know were still there. I cried when I recognized them and you took my tears and you let them float in your palms. You kissed them. You let them be.

How do you let still water exist of which was made of turmoil? How do you make water float, when all it wants to do is sink?

You accept its desire to sink while lifting its weight, its memories and its fears. You walk with it. You lie with the earth, asking it to listen.

I’ve never known how to define the most sought out connection between humans. Maybe while I was being torn, I forgot how to communicate with my heart. Maybe when I was torn, my heart chose to no longer communicate.

But somehow, you placed my heart in the water. And it floated. It healed and it grew. And maybe that is what sought out human connection is meant to be— with those who heal your heart with tears.

— The End —