We are the victims and the perpetrators.
But those roles do not intersect.
We are children and we are parents.
And those roles do intersect.

What I'm trying to say.
Is that two plus two may equal four,
But without limitations x can be anything.
It can intersect as many or as few times as it wants.
It can be zero all of the time,
Or never.
Set some ******* limitations.

What I'm trying to say.
Is I don't want to **** it up.
Don't **** it up.

I need someone to breathe for me
because between the binder squeezing under the too tight seat belt
and the panic clogging my throat
as I scramble for my glasses
so I can at least see the wreck in front of me,
I cannot breathe on my own.

I get in a car and suddenly everything around me is a threat,
and I can't do anything without second guessing myself,
so breathing isn't really a priority anymore.

Telling someone to breathe will not make them breathe.
Telling me to breathe makes me breathe even less,
because now I have to spit out the words I'm trying
while feeling even more like I can't do anything right.

-

If you want me to keep crying, tell me that everything is okay.
Tell me that I will be okay.
Make me think of a million outcomes.
where I won't be.

When you work in insurance
you don't even have to use your imagination.
I can tell you how many things can go wrong
and how often they actually do.
I am a bad statistic
but I can't calmly transfer myself to claims,
I can't ignore the process that comes after.
Sitting calmly at my desk and playing solitaire
Is not an option anymore.

And now I'm in class learning about
probabilities
and personal finance
and risk management.

Being constantly reminded of your failures
does wonders for your self-confidence.

-

I drove to the endocrinologist a week after my first accident
and as they checked my vital signs
they said my blood pressure was a little high,
and my heart rate was a little high,
and they asked if I was nervous.

I didn't know then if it was excitement or fear.
I still don't.
My heart is still beating too fast.

-

Through forgetting how to live without panicking,
I've in turn forgotten how to do anything else.

My dresser has been standing empty in my room
since the beginning of the month
when I dusted it off and dragged it into the house.
My laundry has piled up
and I still need to buy a three ring binder.
I have boxes sitting in the living room that I need to unpack,
and I've been meaning to go outside and get some sun for years.
I have a mouthguard that I need to start using
so that one day my mouth doesn't close and never open back up again,
and I still haven't talked to my father about
what exactly I'm using his health insurance for.
I had a 150 day snapchat streak with a boy
but that disappeared with one day of panicking under the covers.

Whenever the light turns green
I have to stare at it for a few extra seconds
To make sure I'm not imagining it.

Every time I'm at a stop sign, I look left and right five times, ten times,
And still hold a scream in my stomach whenever I finally move.

I think in the crash my car wasn't the only thing to stop working.
I think I caught on fire that night too.
The circles under my eyes look like ashes, anyway.

-

There is one nice thing about crashing two cars.

It forces on me a sense of invincibility.
I am wrapped in a cape of steel and debt and guilt.
The collar is tight and scratchy and
it's like the tinny voice on the other end of the phone
telling me to breathe
because I literally can't afford not to anymore.
In a way my life is not my own to end anymore.

Besides, I just got a new mattress,
so I guess I should stay alive for another eight to ten years at least.

I bought a new mattress today.
I guess that means I'm staying alive
For another eight to ten years, at least.

you smiled at me
and i was glad.

what a thing to imagine!
how rare an event in the history of my life,
of the world, of the universe, of everything,
that in receiving the joy of another human being
i too felt joy - how silly a notion, that such could occur,
and to me, no less! of all the things so imagine!

except, and i'm sure you'll find this surprising,
it was not actually a thing of my imagination
and no matter how trivial you may think it,
i was glad, because such a smile was true
and directed at me, and in existence at all, actually really there,
and honestly i was worried it wouldn't have been, but no -

you smiled at me
and i was glad.

Today is waiting
after writing a professional email
and constantly checking my inbox
getting nothing else done
and the brief relief when I see a reply
until I realize I have to do it all over again.

Today is the right classroom
with the wrong instructor at the front
and me wishing I had looked at more people before now
so maybe the faces wouldn't all look like strangers.
It's one loud girl I recognize looking as confused as I feel.
It's the "is this the right class?" "maybe" behind me.
It's the robot sitting on the desk, staring,
and unless my partner suddenly grew his hair out,
it is the stranger sitting next to me.
It's the professor entering and doubts still lingering
thirty minutes after the lecture has ended.

Today is wearing a new piece of clothing,
walking confidently out of the apartment,
and then tugging at it every thirty seconds
until the day is finally over.

Today is walking to the car at night,
hands purple in jacket pockets
gripping pepper spray in one hand
inhaler in the other
seeing the moon and stars and night sky,
and suddenly crying because the world is so small
and the universe is so big
and nothing matters
but everything matters
and what if I don't like my job
what if I live unhappily for the rest of my life
there is no reason for anything I do
why should I do anything
but I can't stop doing things
because then I won't have a stable life
and if I'm forced to live, I want to live in stability
and take care of myself and live quietly
because there's no point in changing anything
because we are all just going to die
and in the end there is no meaning to anything we do
so new clothing or wrong classrooms or writing emails shouldn't matter
but it does.

It does.

When I am in statistics I cannot focus
because the world around me is ending in my mind
slowly fading into something without meaning
until I cannot breathe and I have to leave
to go cry in the bathroom.

When I am in my statistics class I cannot focus
because there is a boy there who looks like my favorite **** star
I know what his ***** looks like
     or might look like
     Schrödinger's **** in a box.

I cannot help but stare at him and
picture him in gym shorts and no boxers
or cargo pants and no boxers
or just in boxers
or.

It's an uncomfortable feeling of morbid intrigue that
makes me tap my toes too fast.

I want to know him.

I want to tell him that
I love the way he smiles
and laughs and communicate s
and makes sure everyone is safe and happy.

I can only watch **** that has behind-the-scenes features.
It's comforting to know that
everyone is happy and
everything is consensual and
everyone is having fun.
I get too invested in these people, too attached -

One time I had to give up
and take a moment to breath
because I was just so overwhelmed with pride
Like a parent watching their kid graduate after all their hard work.

And that feeling is not okay.

And seeing that boy in my class is not okay,

Because I feel so proud of all he's accomplished
So when he answers a question right in class all I can think about is
When he ****** a **** on camera for the first time
And the first time he licked whipped cream off another man's *******
And it's very distracting.

When I am in statistics I cannot focus
because I start to worry that I will fail this class
and then I start to worry that I will hate my future
and then I worry about having a future in the first place,
bunching up into an unfocused, panicking, asthmatic mess.

The **** star boy is a distraction.

It's because of him that I'm passing this class.



( and in a way, a stupid, silly way,
it's because of him that I'm alive. )