The prospect of physically going somewhere before you actually leave is somewhat surreal. It does not feel real until you are actually sitting on a plane, feeling yourself lift off of the ground. And in that moment of exhilaration you think,

“I am in the air. I could die right now and that would be okay.
I am leaving. I am returning. I am experiencing.”

And as you feel your heart leap into your throat, you can’t help but acknowledge that smiling is the only way you can even begin to catch your breath.

what happens
when your hours of sobriety
vanish ever so slowly
from
ten to six to five to two?
what happens
when you realize this drama
you keep complaining of
has nothing to do with anyone else
and everything to do with you?
what happens when I reach the age
that you were when you
gave birth to me?
will you finally cry
tears of unselfishness,
will you curl up in my arms
and ask me to sing you a lullaby
that sums up what I've learned
about womanhood?
will you feel how it feels
to have lived so long
without comfort or courage
to stay standing strong?
what happens when I can't decide
which side of you I want to be around
when I choose to stop choosing
when I feel without losing
when you love without using
up all the good parts
of me?

but I don't want you only
in the daytime
I want you all the time
maybe because I'm greedy
maybe because I'm needy
or maybe because it is one of the most
natural wants in the world.

you want a peer to get drunk with
not a daughter to fall in love with

my heart keeps
weakening
over all of this.

yes,
the devil finds work for idle hands
but he also finds thoughts for idle minds
and no matter what kind of
destructive habit we take up
it is always
the danger
that we are addicted to

the devil fills me with dangerous thoughts
when i have nothing real
to focus on

it's a scary thing to realize about yourself,
that you can not always trust
the things your mind comes up with
what doesn't seem to matter
or what seems like a good idea
at the time
usually actually does matter
and is a really bad idea
all the time
but we don't realize this until later on,
and sometimes we learn, and sometimes
it's too late.

but that's not what this poem
is about.
"too late" is too much of a tragic thing
to say,
because is it really too late?
for some, yes, i mean, i've seen it firsthand
and it isn't pretty.

but i'm not going to end up like that.
this poem is actually about how whenever my mind
feels ***** like this,
i say a little prayer and surrender to the fact
that i cannot trust myself
and so i run a steaming hot bath,
dip my whole head under the water,
and stare up at the white tiled ceiling
not thinking, not obsessing,
just breathing
this is one successful technique i use
that makes danger seem boring
and clearly unnecessary.

and so
no matter what thoughts the devil injects into my mind,
this is something i must always remember:
having a bath is better,
having a bath is better.

though we do not talk anymore,
i still think of you -
not my idea of you - but how you were,
as i knew you to be.
beautiful, like a swan
cute the way you would lose things
like your wallet or phone,
the way it almost seemed like you lost them on purpose
just to give yourself something
tangible to look for, to distract you
for a little while.

though we have spent more time apart without talking
than we probably ever thought we would,
i still smile to myself when certain memories
float like little clouds shaped as animals
over my heart.
like that night we took black and white photographs of ourselves
in my mothers bathtub, beautiful pictures
of us smoking cigarettes, and you said
"two girls. black and white. naked in a bathtub.
it doesn't get more honest than that."
and i smiled because you were right
and it felt like we had accomplished
some artistic feat, like the love we had for each other
was finally depicted into something that we had both
created, in the way great artists create things,
beautiful & brutally honest,
and i felt so much joy and beauty
in that.
i still look at them sometimes,
when my heart aches for you.

though you have hopefully replaced me
with better, kinder, balanced, healthier, supportive people in your life
i still think about you,
and although i do recall how deeply we both hurt
each other
i do wish the best for you
and i hope you're really
happy and that you finally feel
like the goldmine
you are.

you brushed my hair back from my forehead and whispered,
"why are you crying?"
"i don't know." i said.
how could i tell you it was because
everything about being near you was wrong?
how could i tell you that ever since i've known you
i've felt like you tried to take everything that was good in me
or maybe i gave too much away without thinking,
and now i feel like a shell of a human being?
how could i tell you that the reason i keep coming back to you
has nothing to do with me caring about you in any way
and has everything to do with the fact that i'm too weak to feel worthwhile
when being on my own?
how could i tell you that you owe me a million apologies without
you accusing me of how many things i've done wrong?
how could i tell you to let me go right now
without you asking me to list valid reasons why?
how could i tell you that my heart is tired, that i can't
do this anymore,
that the act of collapsing into your paper-cut arms is easier
than admitting i'm not okay?

"i don't know." is all
i can say.

you hurt me in a way that does not
fill me with anger and resentment or a desire
to get some kind of revenge on you
it's the kind of hurt where i feel like it was all my fault and it's hard
because we have a history
and there's an automatic attachment that comes
with that
but somedays i just get so scared that you might hate me and i think
in these moments i remember the few instances where you made
me feel loved
and i try to hold onto those memories for no
good reason at all i'm just so afraid
of not being loved
because i don't feel worth loving
because i'm not very good at
loving myself
and even though
you are the last person i actually need to be loved by,
for some reason i just can't let go
of the fear that you don't love me and i think that's because
of my refusal to accept that you never
loved me at all

waking up beside you felt like a failure,
talking to you felt like a compulsion,
you liked me because i was unavailable in every way
except physically
and i liked you because you were unavailable in every way
except you provided an inconsistent comfort
that i hadn't felt in years

i don't know who to blame
to must be you
it must be you
you were the first person who removed my insides
and stuffed me with false reasons for why
you felt like nothing needed to change
and i believed you because i have a heart
that is easily manipulated
i don't like thinking about it
but it sticks to my mind like a moth sticks to a lightbulb
and there is no switch
to shut
it off.

this time last year
i was a very different person
i was living on the north side of town
i was working a job i was good at, but didn't
necessarily enjoy
i was dating someone who said he loved me but was secretly
using me as a distraction and i naively
believed his lies because i was so wrapped up
in my own to notice let alone, care
i thought he was a man but he was just a little boy,
i was miserable
i was a vagabond, i didn't know where i was going to sleep next
i was just trying very hard
to cultivate the feeling of home by making sure i was constantly surrounded
with a rotating carousel of people and it was impossible, trying to please them all,
always being in a million places at once, both
mentally and physically.
i was working for my mother's ex-best friend who controlled and manipulated me
but i was searching for a new mother and she was the closest thing
i could find so i stuck around for a while
just to see if she could love me like a daughter but,
she couldn't, and she never did i was nothing
but an outlet for her anger and a convenient babysitter
for her 10 year old daughter and i felt bad because
i didn't sign up to be a role model all i was signing up for was
love and i was devastated to find that there really
was none there to begin with.
this time last year
my 88-year old grandfather was dying and all i felt
was jealousy
because i wanted to die so very badly but he died first
and i resented that but i kept quiet about it
because only horrible people
would think something like that but back then
i truly believed i was
a horrible person and i actually really did
just want to die so i could find some peace and quiet, at last.
this time last year i hadn't yet met the one person
who would change my life forever, i had no idea
my life and thoughts and emotions were about to be turned
upside down by this angel of a girl who offered me
an abundance of love and hope and complete understanding
and essentially, saved my life.
a year ago today i had no idea it was even possible to look
straight into someone's eyes and see nothing but your own soul
reflected right back at you.
this time last year
i was a broken excuse of a human being,
i was a thoughtlessly tossed piece of blank paper that landed
on the ground trying very hard
to inch its way closer to the trash can if only to be close
to some kind of feeling of belonging
somewhere even if that place was
nowhere special at all.
this time last year
i was a very different person and although i cannot say
i am right where i've always envisioned myself to be
right now,
i am thankful.
for love,
for hope,
for simplicity,
for family,
for friendship, -
the list
goes on.