I pick up details.
all the details.
or as many details as possible
in the available time frame

but I can’t make connections between things.
A does not connect to B for me.
I can't zoom out and drag and drop a
line of relation from A to B.

instead I have to drag it myself.
Over kilometers of terrain and time and effort.
Most people use a cart.
But not me.
No, I don’t have a cart.
Every attempt bites away more time and effort
in getting the relationship of A to B.
It’s hard and exhausting
and I don’t have many shortcuts for this.
It’s hills and mountains for me.

Sometimes I can zoom out.
But’s it not an easy in-between zoom, like on google maps where you can see where you are on a street.
Or even which neighborhood you’re in.
If the details are the trees and the big picture is forest then,
I go from crunching on pine needles,
to a view above the clouds.

But it’s not a satellite image.
I can’t see the tall green things clustered together
that would make me think “forest”.
I just see a solid, light green polygon. It’s green so I know
it’s something to do with nature.
But I don’t know for sure.
It could be grass.
It could be a jungle, which is really close to a forest, but not quite,
and I don’t know the exact criteria
distinguishing one from the other.
No details for me here.

I know the basic shape and what it might be,
but I’m not sure of the specifics that make up this green place.
It’s to do with nature.
That’s all I got,
so that’s what I go on.

What I learned in school,
is what being damaged to does to you.
It teaches you struggle is a bad word
and that success is effortless
if you’re not perfect right away
you’re not right
at all
your words only have value
according to the rubric
your cries of pain are only noteworthy
when the wound blisters scarlet red
and sticks and stones are as harmless
as the air used to launch them,
never mind that they broke your spirit well before your bones
they’re just kids.

I was a kid too.
Yet you locked me behind
an iron desk for first an hour, then two,
because despite how desperately I pleaded,
you assumed that because you cared,
that meant you couldn’t hurt me.
I have no scars on my skin to
show you,
unless you count the words I never wrote
because thinking about this made me choke.

And writing about it made it real.

You don’t get a scar
when your body is convinced it can no longer draw breath,
and you learn to count to four and hold for four
before you ever open up a trig book
to page four.
I have scars because I am here to be healed,
I am here, still.

Trees that fall in forests don't scar,
but the grove where they once stood misses them.

This is how I rode my bike every day after school,
I rode it back home safely as I could.

Because I learned to shoulder my weight in gold
and understand on my own terms
that my gold standard
is the only one worth anything to me.

Whether I live or die
Has become decided by
A game of
"how many meals is one too few?"

- p. winter

You tap the lights three times
Because the world around you is dull
And dangerous
And cruel
And the number three is safe
And spontaneous
And comforting
But you look like an idiot tapping the lights three times
And washing your hand five times
And reciting numbers people can not hear clearly under your breath
And they look at you
Like the rare deformity
In the city zoo
Because things that are different
Don't fascinate people like they should
But they scare
And repel
And deflect others
And I can't help but feel alone in a world
Where the tide pushes against me
Trying it’s best to get me out of their vicinity
I don't mean to think over things that are dangerous and scary
And I don't mean to fall into a deep hole of endless sinking
But the words around me are groggy
And thick
Like fog
On a hot humid day
It’s so thick its feels like swimming in quicksand
But I don't know how to swim in quicksand
And the number one rule when caught in quicksand
Is to not panic
Because then you will drown
But no one tells me this when I need to hear it most
And I am the queen of panic
So I struggle
And fight
And flail
Only to fall to an endless doom of deep dark nothing
Where blood is thick like maple syrup
And people are as concealed as concrete
My insides turn into this consistency
Of dog **** and bleach
And it burns my throat
And makes me cry
As I choke on my thoughts
Because by the time I reached the pit of the quicksand
I begin to absorb it
And I then become
The things people call me
When they are most upset with me

I want to be perfect- not like those who let food control them. I want to be beautiful, to sprout wings of feathery white and soar away at will. I want a body made of lace and silk, not cotton and burlap and worms who open their mouths to bare their razor-sharp teeth and coil into tight, sloppy ***** of grease inside my veins. I want to live clean, but I don't want to die empty. I don't want the fate of the doily-***** girls who haunt the dusty corridors of psychiatric units, scurrying about, waiting to expire like meals hidden beneath bed frames and floor boards. I don't want to smell of mold, to have an empty heart or a dehydrated brain that can only form thoughts of calorie intake and deficits. And yet, I want to be perfect. I want to dance atop snow and leave no footprints. I want to fly high enough that the birds are jealous and wish to know my infinity. But I will not fall head over heels in love with an empty plate and a vacant body. I will not lay to waste the fertile soil of my womanhood and become best friends with a barren womb. I will not allow double digits to ****** me and dizzy blackouts to consume me. I will fight. I will fight, tooth and nail these demons that inhabit my tiny frame and play music of nightmares on the bones of my ribcage. I will honor the memories of the emaciated valkyries lost in battle before me by never letting Ana defeat me. She lies and consumes the meat of you, chunk by chunk until all that is left is your sorry, broken soul, riddled with wormholes. So no, I will not give in. I will not lose all that is good and pure in me for the promise of weightless perfection. I will feed my body and I will love myself and I will tattoo it on my ribs and the bones of my spinal cord- "I am enough."

Rebecca Madeira
2.21.16 (C)

I can change my mood at the drop of a hat
One extreme to another; I'm the epitome of that

Selfishly I'll draw u in because I need ur touch
I'll push u away just as fast coz I care too much

Emotionally I'm wounded and don't know how to heal
I think things I shouldn't think and feel things I shouldn't feel

I take solace in silence rather than speak
I don't want to be vunerable I hate that I'm weak

I analyze our conversations, I break down every word
You could be singing praises but it wasn't what I heard

I always tend to listen to the voice I shouldnt hear
The haunting words of rejection, abandonment and fear

My triggers change daily, im so hard to predict
Happy one minute, the next moment; conflict

Pain,rejection, exhile and shame
I know I'm at fault but its you that I blame

I blame you for not knowing exactly what to say
I judge you for not doing the things I want done in a very particular way

Logically I get it, I understand the way I act
I don't how to fix myself, it's just a skill I lack

With all of my quirks and personality flaws
I feel it's for the best that I'm behind closed doors

Safer on my own so there's no pain's involved
Alone isn't ideal, but how else will my issues be solved

I can be me when I'm away from the crowd
I can just be myself cause I say I'm allowed

Where's this happy person that other people see?
It's time for me to let him out, time to be set free