I'll come down

it's a tightening of some parts and a loosening of others. it's your skin floating off your body. it's your world like you're wearing 3-D glasses and every dimension has been slightly flattened between planes. all the good feelings go up by five and the bad ones go down. no pain. no anger. no fear.
but a dullness and inability to think or focus. a balance. everything feels better and part of feeling good involves not acknowledging the shit. so that just bobs away, concealed by some kind haze. a brain-wise haze.
sometimes I love this, when I don't get analytical. writing is the worst thing I could do in this frame of mind.

how many years?

hard heart. beating fast. wrap the string tight around your finger, now. feel the throb. heart beat. I remember how it felt when I fell. I remember that body pressing me against the wall. I remember his eyes, unblinking, all pupil, no iris.

wrapped hard around his hips, carried into every room in that apartment. he fucked his pain away. I let him use me because I needed it. it's so trite, it's so sad. he didn't want to leave and I didn't want to be left but we had so little to do with each other. me in my coat and furry hat, stomping in my untied boots. him reminiscing of ex-girlfriends burnt in my image. I wasn't them. I wasn't right. he wasn't right. we were only ever wrong for each other.
but I remember whipping him once and his gritted teeth. I remember the marks on his body and the sweat on his back. his shark's eyes, black and staring. but never at me. he always seemed to be looking through me, or near me, rarely at me.

I wanted to teach him how to fuck and said he couldn't wait. but things got complicated. and then he stopped responding. in time I won't remember this anymore. but the irony is that he will. because he always remembers.
he mattered so very much to me, but my memory of him is fading. but he cannot forget anything. it's his curse, he would say.
I don't know why I loved him except that for a short, very short, time he needed me. and I needed that so badly. every moment I was with him was a compliment. he was so unhealthy for me. I never had control. I still don't.
the worst part is I was so rarely myself.
no, no, the worst part is that I miss him.
and I don't want to talk to anyone about it.

a reminder

I want to make more puppets. Different kinds of puppets. I want to use papier mache and make jointed puppets. I want to use cardboard and make huge creations. I want to create and create and create. I can't figure out why I don't. I think I'm scared.
Art is terrifying and necessary. I don't feel complete unless I am making something. If I go too long without working on a project, I get depressed.
I am putting this here to remind myself:
never stop creating.

these are just words

you have scars
on your neck
like a
little tin cup
that's been dropped
too many times
on the pavement.

days like these, I feel ok

I can't remember anymore who the pretty one was. all I know is that it wasn't me. it was never me. I didn't get to be the top of anything. I wasn't the smartest or the fastest or the nicest or the meanest. I got to be crazy. I got to be chaos.
I got older and more bitter as I watched
everyone
gradually leave me.
I turned down the anger but upped the resentment. and I hated all the friends that left me because they couldn't handle my chaos.
the ones that stayed are the solid ones. the ones that don't have that flicker inside. they may create chaos, but it's not what they are. the people like me, the ones that are built around instability, they're the ones that had to go away.

I think back on my high school friends and sometimes I'm so bitter that they all left me. more than left, they abandoned and ignored me. every attempt at reconciliation they denied with their inaction. but I don't blame them anymore. how can I? I would have done the same in their shoes. I have done the same to others.
it's taken me years and years and years to mostly accept that. every time I want to reach out to them again, to ask again for forgiveness for being me, I have to remind myself that I would have left, too. when I think of the dozens of friends I no longer have, the ones that I loved and loved until it ate me up, until it made less of both of us, I feel hurt. I hurt and I want to reach out and write magic words that will bring them back. it doesn't work, though. people aren't like that. this isn't a game where, if I pick the right sequence of sentences, someone will be on my side again. we humans aren't so easily fooled.

how much have I changed, really? I think it's been a lot. but I still feel that core of instability. I will never be able to adhere to a schedule on my own. I will never be consistent. I've always viewed these as short-comings. I thought I lacked motivation, but really I just need a long time to prepare. I still have so much trouble being patient. when I am ready to do something, I need to do it NOW or else it's impossible to know when I'll be ready again. it is difficult for me to do something just because someone tells me to do it. it drove my mom crazy that I didn't just jump up and do what she wanted me to do when she wanted me to do it. she never understood that I just wasn't ready. but I also didn't understand her need for control.

I understand so much more about my mom, the older that I get. I think of all my anxieties, my endless bag of anxieties, and I see them all placed on her in retrospect. she was crazy as fuck but didn't know why. I know why now, because I have those same emotional problems. I just don't have a family to contend with. I get to focus on my mental health unimpeded. I am so grateful for that.
but a lot of mental health revolves around listening to what people are telling you, observing their actions, and being self-aware. this self-awareness also means noticing what you are saying to people and noticing your own actions. I think that is the difficult part.
We are endlessly fallible but also capable of forgiveness. it is, of course, hardest for us to forgive our own short-comings. but it's also hard to forgive people who acted out of self-preservation to the detriment of ourselves. the trick is to give them the benefit of the doubt. the trick is to do it for yourself.

I forgive those that I feel abandoned by. I forgive myself for not being what they needed. I can let it go for periods of time, and when it hurts, I can let myself feel that without closing off the pain. I can breathe.