i wonder abt 2020 now. like will i really ever have the courage to live the way i want and need to live before i die? im not sure. this pseudo safety life though… this absolute lead filled horizontal existence. no.
it’s portland af today and the grey is just too much. i was so proud that i woke at 830 am but then came home and napped for hours. hours. it felt so good.
today was actually joyous af
i only got through 5 sun salutation A’s last night before I was overcome with nausea, yet toda i woke with my thighs burning. am i really starting from the beginning? today i pushed through to sun B and told myself muscle memory. is a thing. my body would remember how to be well. my body would become aroused by the contraction of my muscles and slide into the memory of tautness, strength, happiness. it was hard. i do feel that my mind gets all stuck in my head and when i exercise, i spread out. i remember me throughout my whole body. but now, all my clothes are tight, my breasts are full, a cup size larger than usual. my belly falls to the side when i read in a way that reminds me of lovers that i’ve secretly judged. all my valor about being thin is coming up into my mouth now. just force yourself, make yourself and then it will click. all the little adages i told myself to tell my future self, to tell me, now. they echo heavy, ironically, cruel. i want to heal by doing nothing. i want to heal with naps and baths and calling out sick and laying in the sun. i want to heal by not doing the work.
every room i go into is pleasant and then, it isn’t. it’s taken me many rooms to notice the common denominator is me. i make rooms unpleasant. this place was full of light and now it isn’t. i brought the dark. the dark is in me.
i know bc i keep thinking it’s the place. like, “i have to get out of this place” my room, my house, my office, my classroom, puerto rico hostel, perfect beach, warm cafe, bustling library. then i go to a new place and well here i am. the dark creeps in. it only take a couple hours, at first i am joyed at being in the new place. i jump up and down even. i make sounds of pleasure and contentedness. then, it comes in. fuck! “oh no, not this place too” i have thought too many times, now I know it is me. i bring the dark. i am the dark.
and in this place at this time again, i turn to face my dark. i turn to face myself in the most terrifying rawness.
i admit i do think that if you were here to love me all the dark would melt away. why didn’t i protect myself from your love? every moment i am pulled further and further from the memory of you. your warm skin, girly hips. the way you’d look at me through those impossible lashes, your lips surrounded with holes from abandoned piercings. god i wish i could remember what we talked about. i wish i could recall with ease, the energy that hung between us. it was love. we loved each other. right? did you love me? the doubt is the darkness. blooming inside me fast. it takes up all the space of me. it takes up the spaces im in. fucking free me.
it’s hard to remember days but i remember feelings. i remember last week i felt peace i felt my power. i bought silly shoes on royal st. i ate a bagel alone on the river. biked through saints traffic to broadmoor to drop off cigarettes and books to a, to no avail. that was monday. dec 16. 2 months. i thought the pain left but it still comes. in different ways. in different times. i stopped taking my wellbutrin for a week, maybe 2, im not sure. i want to feel it dissipate the cloud of depression. give me energy. unintended side affects.
i know the dark, ay, no doubt i know the dark. it’s not here right now.
i guess ive been gifted a sort of numbness? i cannot feel and i feel far away. but i can do some other things. im glad.
less dependent on xanax. the pain is manageable, the shock is gone. their death is a fact. oo but even as i write that i feel a sting. ok, maybe it’s not a fact yet.
their voice fades. “i love you” i wish i could hear it. come to me.
my horoscope told me to learn how to lucid dream. as if it’s just like that. but- i do believe this brain is all i have and it’s more than i can imagine. robert is in there, loving me. i need to get there. down liquid melatonin and pray to the dark to take me there tonight.
i sat heavy with my pain in puerto rico. i had to approach the cop in my head with a machete. robert saw me, yes, but what did they see about me that i value so much? i invest so much time into worrying about forgetting. assuming i have no self left already. when it’s all i have.
i almost do things and then i don’t and i ask myself, why not? for what are you bowing? every checkpoint is gone. there is only yourself standing between you and freedom.
aphorisms that mean nothing if not read in the right time.
ive changed before and ill do it again.
i will not your love for me define me.
you broke my trust in the most painful way. all signs point to give in. but im not this place. im not that person or their love. im not my friends im not my job im not even my experiences.
ive lost my confidence before and i can get it again. i can taste the lemony edges of it. that almost-arrogance, that unshakable boldness. i am almost upon it. coming into my own. it will save me.
Maybe someone u thought was your friend hurt you deep, and you thought you’d go home and take the drugs that ease your hurt. But instead, you go to the end of the world and get naked on the picnic table where you shared intimate moments with your lover a few days before they died.
Glaring under the horn of the Natchez riverboat wheels, that offensive echo of the calliope bouncing off the mississippi; strangers approaching, then retreating.
I lay naked breathing out my anger, my mace switched open and held in my fingers. I am not afraid, I am ready, I am free. How many years to get all three?
Detering the curious erections half-formed, softened by my face. Is it the lines in my face or the dark in my eyes that deter you? Is it that I chose to be free, I chose to roll my eyes at the imposition of fears, your control. Non-binary, not a femme. 32 AA cup iow, i need nothing. Stop coming for my perky nipples, stop coming for my tiny body. I’m strong and, worse, I’m too broken to feel fear.
This is the place my lover sucked my toes in mid-afternoon 3 days before they died, where we moaned so loud half nude on the picnic table sun that we scared would-be approachers away. We made the place ours with just our carnal pleasure.
I took your photo but it didn’t capture how beautiful you were to me. That golden light.
Now it’s me alone but your bravery is with me. Thank you for giving me the courage, the knowledge of nothing mattering and with it the freedom and with it the world.
you motherfucker i loved you.