Broken Hearts and Sweet Hypocrisy

Ok, so remember how I re-discovered all those old poems? And I was all, I hate everything I wrote in high school? Well, it turns out that that is not true, I only hate SOME of what I wrote in high school. This is a collection of poems about “a broken relationship, but more than that, they’re about one broken person and the secrets they kept, and someone who would have given anything to save them” according to the description I wrote on FictionPress. And the reason I don’t hate these particular ones is because they give me SO much insight into what happened back then and what my thought process was like. I think these are illuminating. There were 6 of them but these are the only ones that I think are interesting enough to share. (Note that I said ‘interesting’ and not ‘good’.)

I talk a lot about how tough this whole experience was for me, I did an entire speech on it last year, but no one can say it better than fifteen-year-old me.

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The Black Hole

So, I’ve been working on a book for the past 6 months that features a lot of personal details about my life, and as you would expect, writing it has been interesting, to say the least.

As I’m writing, I’m forced to remember things in painstakingly accurate detail, and this is either excruciatingly painful or touching or hilarious or all of the above. And sometimes this sticks with me for a little bit, but then a funny thing happens – the memories disappear.

I mean, they don’t really, of course, but they become no longer my memories, real things that happened to me, but a fictional character’s memories. If I tried hard enough, if I went back through all the old pictures and documents and scrapbooks and gifts that I sifted through in the first place, in order to recall these things, I would remember. But assuming that I don’t do that, I remember things the way I wrote them. In third-person, about someone else, who is me but not me.

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Best Before

Best Before 

February 16th, 2011

I wish you came with a warning sign,
some indication that you would change,
and want to move across the country
or the world
with or without
me

You’re a carcass
with the same polished exterior
but something frightening and sinister inside
I’d roll over in the morning
to come face to face with a corpse
I don’t recognize

Maybe I could have
spared myself the trouble
and told myself
that this is the best before date
after which I would have to leave
before we expired

The second poem I dug up from my earlier adulthood. If you can call 18 adult.

This one is also about my ex-boyfriend, except it actually is about the second one this time. I mean I totally did have this moment with the first one too, but not in this way. This was when I started realizing that he wasn’t necessarily who I thought he was, or who he actually was 6 months prior when we started dating. And I was like, “Yes, I should leave,” which would be nice except for the fact that I didn’t do that for another year and a half.

Also, the next time I am mad at a boy who breaks my heart I will spit at him venomously, “You’re…a…carcass…sss”. I think that would be simultaneously badass and hilarious. I very much wish that I had re-read this a month ago so I could use that line.

Again, if you want to read more of my fiction, you can check it out on FictionPress here. 

And Every Day After That

And Every Day After That

January 22, 2011

I wake up
to hear
‘I love you’,
a tangible reassurance
that you’re safe.
Everything
in my life is still upright.
I won’t have to redefine
and see the world differently,
not today.

I cry
for a minute
with relief, then
stop.
Certain
that although we have cheated
death today
it will come
tomorrow.

I used to have an account on FictionPress.com, and I recently logged into it again because I’m considering putting the first quarter of the first draft of my novel on there to see what happens. And while I was there I rediscovered the last couple of poems that I wrote, which was clearly quite a while ago. And I expected to hate them, the way I do my high school poetry, but I do not.

So I decided to share them again.

This was written about my ex boyfriend who got really upset with me for a weekend and refused to speak to me, and I was terrified. I was worried that we would break up or that worse, he would hurt himself. Except looking back I realize that this was a completely irrational fear in that situation, and this was actually written about my first ex boyfriend, who self-harmed and left me worrying-but-not-worrying about him indefinitely.

**By the way, I’ve started posting again on my FictionPress account, although whether or not I post the novel remains to be seen. If you’d like to read more of my poetry and fiction, check it out here.**

It Gets Dark at 5 Now

It’s still October and relatively nice out – cold, but not so cold that I dread getting out of bed and going outside. I can still wear my nice coat.

But I am filled with dread all the same, because winter is coming. Obviously. Normally I am so excited because of Christmas, and I don’t start to feel the impact until January, but it’s starting early this year. Really early.

That’s because last winter was absolutely brutal for me, to the point where I can count the number of good days I had throughout the entire season on my hands. I was in a depressive episode, although it took me way too long to figure that out. I was constantly tired, and when I try to remember those months the weather is always dark or cloudy, even though I know that’s impossible.

That’s just how things seem to me when it’s cold out. It’s not S.A.D. because I’m perfectly capable of being depressed at any time of the year, it’s just way more likely in the winter.

And now I am constantly tired except in the middle of the night, and that’s only because I get up really late and take naps in the middle of the day. Things are starting to seem pointless because I have nothing to look forward to until April.

I’m terrified of falling again. I’m terrified of even just remaining where I am right now.

My life requires a LOT of energy. I do not have time for naps. I do not have time for sitting on the kitchen floor for 15 minutes because I was opening a drawer to get a pot and then just gave up while I was down there.

I don’t have time to be sad, let alone depressed.

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Someday

You, with your switching sides
And your wildfire lies and your humiliation
You have pointed out my flaws again
As if I don’t already see them
I walk with my head down
Trying to block you out cause I’ll never impress you
I just wanna feel okay again

I bet you got pushed around,
Somebody made you cold
But the cycle ends right now
Cause you can’t lead me down that road,
And you don’t know, what you don’t know…

Someday,
I’ll be living in a big old city

And all you’re ever gonna be is mean
Someday
I’ll be big enough that you can’t hit me

And all you’re ever gonna be is mean
-Taylor Swift

Nearly 3 weeks ago I was officially hired as the Creative Projects & Communications Assistant at the non-profit that I interned at over the summer. I’ve known this was going to happen since my last week there, I just wasn’t sure what exactly my role would be so I didn’t want to talk about it too much. Actually I still don’t know, considering that my title was just made up for me, but we will find out! Over the summer I mainly handled media related things but for the past year I’ve sort of been someone who just does anything and everything (except for for math and science), so who knows. But I am getting a paycheck and I have my own office now, for some reason, so that’s all I’m concerned about. I’ve enjoyed what I do so far so I’m sure it will continue that way.

This is basically the best thing that could semi-realistically happen to me. Let me explain that – I’ve mentioned (several times) that I had a dream to get married and shit, and I’ve come to realize that I also had a dream to have a tight-knit group of friends who would support me. These things will never happen. Not the way I want, anyway.

And out of that darkness came this newfound ability to be…me. Who I really am, I guess, not that I knew that as it was happening. Someone who can be highly functional even during her darkest periods, who speaks her mind and isn’t particularly scared of what anyone else thinks, someone with good ideas. And as a result I ended up building a new dream and the beginnings of a career.

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Until It’s Too Late

On Thanksgiving Day my brother found out that his best friend died, and in a way it was fitting because nothing reminds you of what to be thankful for more than loss.

We don’t know how he died – it could have been suicide, but maybe not. I’m not here to talk about that. What I am here to talk about is paying attention to your life, and to the lives of the people around you.

My brother’s friend died a week before the police broke down the door of his bedroom and found his body. He lives with roommates, who I guess didn’t think to check on him. I can only imagine how they must feel now, knowing that he was there, dead, this entire time as they went about their daily lives mere feet away.

As someone who has contemplated suicide many times, a thought I always had was that if I made that choice, no one would notice for a very long time. I didn’t have a lot of friends and the ones that I did have were pretty absent (and still are for the most part if we’re honest), and I don’t talk to my parents regularly enough for them to worry about me. I attributed all of this to the fact that my life was just awful so that was probably even more reason to do it. That was the depression talking, of course, but I still think about that every now and again, and I still felt like there was no way that that would ever happen to most other people, who are swimming in friends and family and so on.

But it does, doesn’t it? More than we like to admit. Our culture is so hands-off. We feel like we’re bothering people and being pushy or nosy if we ask questions. We think that they’ll come to us if they need something. We don’t say things that we should say because we assume that they already know. I do it too. Sometimes for those reasons but more because I assume that they don’t care about me, and since they don’t get involved in my life they certainly won’t want me getting involved in theirs.

Sometimes it’s big, serious things like mental illness, but sometimes it’s little things like relationship drama or a tough job search or even a particularly trying school assignment. Asking all of your friends, “Hey, are you okay? No seriously, ARE YOU OKAY?!” every other day is probably not going to be helpful, but showing interest in the smaller aspects of their lives can be. If you don’t show that you care on a ‘normal’ day, how will they know that they can turn to you when the shit hits the fan (which it inevitably always does for everyone at some point)? I can’t tell you how much it would mean to me for people to just check on me every couple of weeks, like, “Hey, how are you? What’s new?” instead of having to seek them out when I want to tell them something.

Don’t just wait for people to come to you. We are all full of various insecurities that stop us from seeking out love and attention. Go to them. Even if you don’t feel like they’ll reciprocate – maybe one day they will. Be hands-on. BE touchy-feely. Say how you really feel and often, even if all you’re met with is silence.

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