Wishes

Since childhood
   
   she has learned
  that wishes, spoken aloud,
   can be twisted
   perverted
  brought to life in horribly unexpected ways
   
   A child snatched by goblins,
    hearts ripped out
      or skin torn off,
  people twisted into
   caricatures of themselves
    by helpless, obsessive love wishes
 
   So she locks her wishes down
     keeps them behind her lips,
      inside her skull,
   someplace safe
     and warm
    and so private
 
  no one will ever, ever hear
    and twist
what she wants
   into some fucked up version
   of reality.

Dichotomies

Why are we so gentle on those
   surrounding us
    and so hard on ourselves?

  Why express loathing, over and over,
      of the things we despise in ourselves
     the "weaknesses" or "flaws"
when we can see the beauty of them
   in those we care for?

  i tell my friends
    over and over
   they are lovely, wonderful, gorgeous,
   good enough
     for anyone or anything
  while fighting my own feeling
    that i must ask permission
   for everything -
    to talk,
   to exist,
    to take up space
      in others' lives
   to BE

i tell them
   "pay attention to your limits"
  while fighting my own
    until i force panic attacks,
    unraveling all the triggers
 because i want to be DONE.
   Healed.
   No more fragility
  no more feeling of being pathetic,
    unwanted,
   ignored and left behind.

i tell them
  "you are never a burden,"
  "anything you want or need
    that i am capable of,
      just ask me"
"you don't have to isolate yourself"

while shutting myself down,
   feeling that if i reach out,
     if i expect attention from anyone
    i
  am
   always
   a burden.

And while i know, logically,
   that i am not a burden,
    not pathetic or weak
      or a waste of space
   or resented for reaching out,
    burrowing into one's own head
   is so much harder
     than saying it to someone else.

The Hardest Lessons

The hardest lessons
   i have had to learn
   all involve myself.

  That it is okay
    to not be okay,
    even on the days that
   everything
     hurts
  and i can no longer respond
   to even gentle humor.

That in spite of it being easier
  to blame myself than
  to acknowledge if someone i love
    is to blame for anything,
   i cannot blame myself
   for everything, and that
  the way i'm treated is NOT
    necessarily a reflection
   of who i am.

That i'm allowed to have emotions,
   that no one gets to dictate
    how deeply i feel, or about what,
     and that i'm not fucked up
    just because i react strongly.

That i'm human,
   allowed to expect
  clarity
  affection
  attention
  the things the voice
   in the back of my head
   tells me i don't deserve,
  that i should never expect.

That my needs are valid,
   not problems
  and not issues i need to fix.
That i'm allowed to look
  into another person's eyes
  and say "No," clearly,
  and that it is their problem
 if they cannot accept it.

That i am worth loving
  even on the days
  i feel completely unlovable.
That the longing i feel
  is valid
  no matter what.

Frustration, or Wading Through the Crap

What no one tells you:

the sheer

utter

sometimes frenzied

FRUSTRATION

there is in healing

the loops

around and around

back through fears that surprise

even

yourself.

The urge to connect,

to reach out

to beg

for attention

affection

anything

that will help silence the fear.

The overcoming of

that guilt

shame

the conviction that he was right

that you're actually insane

and even once you're healing

even once you're mostly okay

even the times you feel

happy

part of you remains convinced

that it will all come crashing down.

Being convinced

that everyone is

angry at you

tired of you

not knowing how or why

and that's part of it.

The inability to even articulate

what you want

because fuck if you know.

All you know is that you cycle

from fear of change

to fear of everything

and back again,

and even once you begin

to eradicate the fears,

they sneak up and

ambush you

at the most unexpected times

and with the people

you shouldn't be afraid of.

The simultaneous

fear of silence - shit, did i

just upset them? Did i do or say

something wrong?

Are they angry?

And urge to curl up

in a convenient hole

and just

never

come out,

because silence

can be so comforting

if you choose it.

And gods,

the acid taste

of bringing up the thoughts

feelings

anything that makes you

vulnerable.

Having to remember:

you are not

a bad person

your friends are not angry

your concerns are valid.

No matter how hard it is

to remember any of that.

Though you can

let yourself be so

at the most surprising times

and in the oddest ways

when you are made unexpectedly

welcome,

loved,

thanked,

or when a stranger

calls you beautiful,

calls you good girl,

and you realize

as you crumple toward tears,

that

was all you wanted.

Paradox

For Literaturesexual Wednesday: Write all the things? Writing is sometimes the best or only outlet i have, especially when i can't find words when trying to explain myself.

Paradoxes

Sometimes
   caught at the intersection
of unexpected pain
   and equally unexpected happiness,
i freeze
  unable to fully acknowledge
   either
      unsure of which way to turn
  afraid
   to expose the pain in words
     because half the time
i cannot adequately verbalize it,
  and i am afraid
   of being met with judgement
    instead of understanding.
    And when i manage
      and am met with a casual "fix it"

i fight the urge to withdraw
   hide
    run away
  because
   i don't see it as something
    that is a serious problem -
it is part of me
   the part that enables me to be so vulnerable
    the part that allows me to reach out
      the part that lets me connect
   to anyone at all,
the part
   that causes collapse
     into a flood of tears
      at unexpected kindness
       acceptance
       reassurance
and it does
not
need
  fixing.

A List of Reasons Why You Shouldn't Date Me:

Because
   i'm often irritable
      or angry
   and i can't always explain why.

 Because
   i feel everything
   so deeply
     that i sometimes cannot
    completely control my emotional responses,
     and it's the little things
  that affect me most.

 Because
   between the anxiety
    and the depression
   there are days i desperately need
    attention
  affection
  reassurance
  but
    i often cannot ask -
  i dread
   being
  just an annoyance
  just a burden
  just a pain.

Because i'm a brat,
   and sometimes it's cute
   but other times
   i see the line
   and dance blithely across it,
   until smacked
    or reprimanded.

Because
  while expensive presents
  make me incredibly uncomfortable,
  i am a downright whore
  for attention
  sometimes.
  And like a cat,
  other times i just want
  to be left alone.

Because
   i can talk for HOURS
  about fabric,
   or embroidery,
   or obscure historical facts
   or pretty much anything else
  but mostly
  i apologize too much
   for my own passions.

Because
  i refuse connections
  or hand myself over
   without a second thought
and there is no telling
 which you'll get -
   and when i choose
  handing myself over,
 i often grow afraid
   after the fact,

Because
   i am not
   everyone's cup of tea
  as the saying goes,
   but maybe
   i'm someone's
  shot of whiskey
  once in a while.

Because
  part of me waits
 for any new
  Anything
  to go sideways
regardless of what i do
  or don't do.

Discoveries

i am discovering
   that i do not know
     how to want
the things i'm told
  cannot exist.
   The things
    that my subconscious
   revisits in dreams
   but that may never
   see the light
   of day.
 But oh
  i miss them
  when i wake up
   and remember
  they were only
   ever
 dreams.