#preoccupied - Hello Poetry

(tw; family dysfunction) 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.

0

Oct 6, 2018

Oct 6, 2018 at 3:46 PM UTC

misbehaven27

Preoccupied

(tw; family dysfunction) 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.

78

Drunk. On the thoughts occupying my mind, Drunk. On the preoccupations playing in front of my eyes, Drunk. Floating in my drunkenness... My only wish Does not exist. Because, Floating in the drunkenness of my pain has Taken my awareness away. __Drunk.__

0

Aug 11, 2018

Aug 11, 2018 at 11:25 AM UTC

Yanamari

Drunk tired

Drunk. On the thoughts occupying my mind, Drunk. On the preoccupations playing in front of my eyes, Drunk. Floating in my drunkenness... My only wish Does not exist. Because, Floating in the drunkenness of my pain has Taken my awareness away. __Drunk.__

12

What stays on your mind, no matter what you’re doing, no matter what has your time… What stays on your mind?

0

Nov 25, 2016

Nov 25, 2016 at 8:37 PM UTC

Elephantandflypoetry

Mindfulness

What stays on your mind, no matter what you’re doing, no matter what has your time… What stays on your mind?

4

Why do you still occupy the nooks and crannies of my head? Drifting up through the cracks in the plaster bent nails and poor construction hammered hastily into place How do you fill my vacant minutes with shadows of you? Your outline walks beside me on the street, wound up in my headphones the echo of your daydream touch a humming static on my skin How still do you fall asleep beside me when I am wrapped in the disquiet of a restless night? How do you ease yourself into my brain like its nothing and hide among synapses that try so hard to lose you And how still to lose you? When the thought of you occupies the wasted time that escapes order and control and slips under the floorboards And in that quiet and that dark is where you and I occupy, held together by the wandering nature of thoughts, that find their way into the nooks and crannies of my head The thought of you is indifferent to my hasty plaster work, and the thought of you is intoxicating.

0

Jul 3, 2014

Jul 3, 2014 at 6:49 AM UTC

Sobriquet

Your indifference to my construction work.

Why do you still occupy the nooks and crannies of my head? Drifting up through the cracks in the plaster bent nails and poor construction hammered hastily into place How do you fill my vacant minutes with shadows of you? Your outline walks beside me on the street, wound up in my headphones the echo of your daydream touch a humming static on my skin How still do you fall asleep beside me when I am wrapped in the disquiet of a restless night? How do you ease yourself into my brain like its nothing and hide among synapses that try so hard to lose you And how still to lose you? When the thought of you occupies the wasted time that escapes order and control and slips under the floorboards And in that quiet and that dark is where you and I occupy, held together by the wandering nature of thoughts, that find their way into the nooks and crannies of my head The thought of you is indifferent to my hasty plaster work, and the thought of you is intoxicating.

25

Lying awake At midnight, Eyes to the sky, Confusion racking my mind. Thoughts of you Consume my brain, Keeping me preoccupied, Making sleep elusive. All because I want something, Someone, I can't have.

0

Jun 23, 2014

Jun 23, 2014 at 12:04 PM UTC

sean-g

Restless

Lying awake At midnight, Eyes to the sky, Confusion racking my mind. Thoughts of you Consume my brain, Keeping me preoccupied, Making sleep elusive. All because I want something, Someone, I can't have.

12