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venn Oct 2018
How long has it been?

So long that the number escapes me,
long enough that I've forgotten the last time I saw you,
face to face, spoke to you,
long enough that sometimes,
I forget what you look like,
how your voice sounds

Have you changed since we last spoke?

It's not often, but on occasion,
you slip into my subconscious,
and I remember you vividly,
like it was just yesterday that I saw you,
when in reality, it's been... years
Once, I dreamed that you hugged me
I miss that feeling,
I miss the enveloping warmth,
the feeling of love I used to get when I was around you

Do you dream about me?

I graduated from high school this summer
I never thought I would,
or that I even could, but I did
You weren't there
I looked out into the crowd of people,
of families
I saw mine
But the one person I was hopeful to see wasn't there

When did you lose interest in me?

I still have your letters
I avoid reading them,
but I remember the promises you made in them,
the assurance that you would change,
you would be a better you and love me like I deserved
I found it hard to write back
I didn't know what to say
I was young, immature
I had the words in my head,
but putting them on paper,
that was a whole other mountain to climb,
and even for one so young,
my arms were weak
from the mountains I had already scaled,
hands calloused,
damaged from the harsh edges of the life I lived
It was too daunting
But, still, I hoped you would stay true to your word

Why did you lie to me?

All this time I've spent alone,
trying to fill the void you left behind,
with anything and anyone I had access to,
and I always end up more broken than I started
It's hard to believe that anyone will ever love me
Because you didn't

Am I unworthy of your love?

There's so much I've wanted to say to you,
and even when I try to reach out,
you have nothing to say in reply
so much will be left unresolved,
because there's a good chance we will never speak again,
that one of us will die before we can sit down and talk,
like we haven't done in so long,
but if there was one last question I could ask you,
it would be...

Do you miss me, father?
venn Oct 2018
I am intimidated by you
Though perhaps it is not you that I am intimidated by,
But simply that time seems to fly
Faster than I am capable of falling in stride
The universe is infinite
But my existence is the opposite
Limited
And I am terrified to die
This is a shorter piece than I normally post, but it was something I wrote a while back that I like, so I decided to post it anyway. I hope you enjoy.
venn Oct 2018
Dear Newborn,

Hi, hello.

Welcome.

I hope you’re enjoying your stay here on planet Earth.

I’m sure the drive in was a little difficult, a little painful,
perhaps a little ****** (or a lot ******),
like moving from the darkest cavern to the brightest….
well, place. Area. Location.

I can’t think of anything superbly bright right now.
Oh, oh, I know.

It’s like living your whole life floating
in the very reaches of outer space and then
catapulting directly into the sun

Great analogy.

Regardless, welcome.

I said I hope you enjoy your stay,
the key word being hope, because, well,
you may not enjoy it

In fact, it’s guaranteed that there are parts of life
that will be near-torturous,
that will make you wish you had never been brought
into this world

But with that also comes moments of happiness
unlike anything you will ever experience, 
intense joy that makes you feel as though
you’re weightless once again,
floating out in space with no restraints,
no boundaries, just peace

The good will be great,
and the bad will be horrible,
and sometimes the good will be good
and the bad will be just bad,
it all depends on the day

A word of advice: treasure the time you have.

You won’t understand why this is important until you're older,
but do it anyway

Life fades just as quickly as it is brought to fruition,
and there are people on this Earth you will want to treasure
like they are the finest gold ever to be fished out of the land

There will be moments like this, too,
moments you wish would never fade,
and they will fade,
but never let them escape your memory,
and seek to make more of those moments every day,
even when happiness seems like an impossible dream

Life is the most difficult journey you will ever go on,
but has the possibility of being the most rewarding, as well

Allow the pain to be felt just as vibrantly as the happiness.

Never stifle your emotions.

Never limit others.

Never forget where you came from.

Never stop dreaming,

But never allow yourself to be tied down by those dreams, either.

Be free,
do what makes you happy,
be compassionate,
travel,
drink and make merry
(once you're legally allowed to, mind you),
and just be.

Exist to the great capacity you possibly can,
and die knowing you lived

Wishing you the greatest of luck,
a young dreamer
venn Oct 2018
That's the word you use, isn't it? 
"Did you remember to call the vet?"
"Oh, no, my bad, I was a little preoccupied."
"What about the trash company? We haven't gotten our bins yet."
"Shoot, I completely forgot."
"We still have to get our internet set up, remember?"
"I did say I was going to do that, didn't I?"

Yes, you did.

You did say that.

And every day,
I have to remind you again,
like a parent pestering their child
about cleaning that pigsty of a room,
and every day,
that growing pile of promises remains untouched,
unfulfilled, and increasingly funny-smelling.

Being preoccupied has practically become your job,
so it's no wonder that absentmindedness is sometimes known
as preoccupation

All jokes aside, there is a fine line between forgetfulness
and prioritization of him over us,
a line you've made a point of crossing
at every opportunity that has arisen

But maybe I'm unfairly assigning blame. 

Maybe we're both at fault. 

Because, you see, I lied. 

Those words never left your lips, but even fabricated excuses,
however exasperating they would have been to truly hear,
are still better than the reality

With each reminder, I was met with an ever-so-slight
narrowing of the eyes that so closely resemble my own,
a sigh of "yes, I know,"
and even more empty promises. 

And yet, I continue to persist. 

Why? Because it's important to me. To us. 

I'm beginning to wonder if it's worth it,
waiting for something that will never come

Maybe I'm overreacting. 

Now that I think about it, it does seem trivial,
insignificant in the grand scheme of things,
but it's those little trivialities that
you were supposed to be responsible for
​​​​​
You preach to me about the importance of family,
and admonish me when I take that family for granted,
and yet you disregard your own,
not even bothering to ask us how we feel
about this unfamiliar, near-constant presence in our home

He can never fill in what is missing,
can never make up for what has been absent for years,
but I may have grown to like him, had he not be forced upon me

I have been given no choice but to interact, to tolerate. 

I have no say whatsoever, because my voice has been stifled
by your unwillingness to listen,
your apathy regarding what I may have to say

Maybe you're afraid. 

Afraid of what we think of him. 

Afraid of disappointment. 

But the more distance you put between yourself and us,
the more time of ours you take and fill with him,
the clearer your message becomes

We don't matter. 

We aren't important enough.

Our thoughts, our feelings,
they are absolutely and unequivocally irrelevant

You don't care. 

How did this happen? 

Was it him? Did he do this? Or was it something else?

Did we do something? Did I do something?

There has to be a reason, a rational explanation.

Of course there is, why wouldn't there be?

There's a valid reason, isn't there? 

​​​​​​I can fix this.

Tell me how to fix this.

There has to be a way to fix it.  

What did I do wrong? 

Sorry, did you say something? I was preoccupied.
venn Oct 2018
I don't remember the day we first met
I don't remember the time or the place
or what you were wearing
or what the very first thing you said to me was

Honestly, it's difficult to imagine you
speaking to me at all, because, well,
that would require me not giving off an aura of distaste
to everyone in my general vicinity,
due to my extreme distrust of people in general

Knowing me, we probably didn't even speak
until I grew used to seeing your face day after day,
became accustomed to your presence

It's likely I knew your name before I said a word to you,
as I am an introvert with a side of social anxiety,
and it's always been a bit difficult for me to "make friends"

Even after the first words we spoke to each other
transformed into our first conversation,
as pitiful of an excuse for one as it may have been,
there was nothing spectacularly romantic about it

It was just passing remarks littered with wit,
sarcasm, and largely inappropriate humor

 I don't remember when you became so important to me.

No matter how much I wrack my brain,
clawing meticulously through every memory I can reach
in my largely disorganized mind,
it's impossible for me to pinpoint that one moment,
the instant in time that changed everything

What I do remember is the way every inch of your face
reddens when you laugh,
that contagious grin spreading across your cheeks
as if you had just heard the funniest thing in the world

I remember how it feels when I'm the one causing that smile,
that rush of accomplishment I get when I can make you happy,
even for just a moment

Those little things, however insignificant they may seem,
are stuck with me,
ingrained into my brain like the stain of spilt grape juice
on a once-pure white shirt,
imprinted into my soul like an unexpected fissure in a landscape

They torture me, day and night,
and you would expect by the way I describe these feelings
that I want them to go away,
that I want to remove the stain you've made on my life,
stitch my landscape back together
and act as though you hadn’t cracked me open,
and maybe, once upon a time, I would have,
but now?
I never want them to go away

As much as it pains me to feel this way,
and as much as I sometimes despise being so attached to you,
undeniably and irrevocably reliant on your existence in my world,
you've made me feel ways that, a few years ago,
I didn’t think were possible

Not long ago, I wasn't even sure if being happy with myself
was possible,
much less feeling anything close to whatever this may be,
because I haven't quite figured it out yet

 All I know is that I care about you,
no matter how much or how little that may mean
I care in ways that I probably shouldn't

I want to protect you, keep you safe from harm,
and when I can't, it hurts

It physically hurts me to see you endure any kind of suffering,
and yet I know you have to, every single day,
because you've told me so

I've sewn together the shreds of you,
the real you, that you've shown me,
and as short and fleeting as those glimpses may have been,
I only want to see more

I want to know who you really are, behind the mask,
behind the walls of the impenetrable stone fortress
that you've built for yourself

You like caging your heart in your chest to protect it from harm,
I know that all too well,
but I want to put the pieces of you back together,
and even if I can't,
I will hold the shards of your soul with my bare hands
and keep you close to me

No matter how long it takes,
no matter how painful it is,
no matter how much I bleed,
I'll do it for you

 Most people sweep broken things into a dustpan
and toss them in a trash bag,
tying them up and leaving them on the side of the road
with all of the other discarded and damaged items
that once had a purpose,
but I'm not one of those people

I keep every broken thing I've ever come across,
if I can hold on long enough,
whether it be pieces of someone else or pieces of myself

With you, though, I think it's both.

You remind me of the way I used to be,
and the way I am now

Maybe that's why I care so much.

I know what it's like to have a mask.

I understand how it feels to have to protect yourself
from your own family,
because even they find ways to hurt you,
even when they try not to,
even when they don't

You know that, though, or at least,
you may have come to that conclusion,
because I've offered shreds of myself to you, too,
the suffering I've had to endure

You know, but I want you to understand why,
why I allowed you to see the pieces of me that
I rarely show anyone.

Because I understand what it's like, and at the end of the day,
we're not that different

After all, we’re both in pieces.

We’ve lost so much of ourselves,
and even though we’ve tried to keep the fragments together,
losing them was inevitable for us

There’s not enough left to restore us completely.

We would have to search to the ends of the Earth
to even come close to making ourselves whole again,
and even then, it wouldn’t be enough

But maybe we don’t have to.

Maybe we only need to look right in front of us,
because, together,
we have enough to make something extraordinary
venn Oct 2018
Who am I?

I like to think that, in every punch,
Every curse,
Every outburst of rage,
There is a little bit of my father.

In every burst of anxiety,
Every obsessive drive for perfection,
Every rejection of genuine emotion,
There is a little bit of my mother.

In every spiteful comment,
In every grudge held too long,
In every egotistical  thought,
There is a little bit of my stepfather.

And even if we are not together,
Fated from the beginning to tear one another to pieces,
We are still one big ******* happy family.
venn Jul 2015
Having depression is like being caught out in a blizzard.

At first, the cold seems like nothing.

You're all bundled up in a fluffy coat,
Scarf wrapped around your face,
Hands slipped into gloves and tucked under your arms

But then the snow begins to fall,
And the temperature drops,
And it's like the chill is stripping you down, layer by layer,
Even though all your layers are still there

It gets colder, and you start to feel the effects of the chill,
The fierce winter seeping into your bones,
Making it seem as though you only walked outside
In a pair of shorts and a tee shirt

Your body begins to numb as the cold starts,
The weakest parts of you losing their feeling first

Your nose
Your ears
Your cheeks and your face and your fingers
All becoming completely numb,
As if they aren't there anymore

And then your legs stiffen up,
And you have trouble walking,
Even though you try so hard to keep moving,
Because you know if you stop, you're doomed

But you lose your ability to function,
The cold causing almost complete ****** paralysis,
And no matter how hard you try,
It's impossible to keep moving

You fall to the ground,
Curling into a ball in the snow,
Trying to keep yourself warm

But the cold is too much.

And as the hypothermia sets in,
Your brain tricks you into thinking you're actually warm,
And you ***** of the layers that were the only thing
Keeping you hanging on

And then it's over.
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