Dead Driving: october 29, 2023, 10:31pm

there is a feeling i recall having, that i am having now as i remember it, in my stomach every time i feared death. felt close to it. was put in its proximity. the times he’d drive me on everything. drunk. tripping. coked out. high. some combination of these at the same time. convince me that him on all of this was a better driver than me at baseline. and i believed him. driving so fast and reckless. the nights where it was so late and my stomach was so empty and i was so deeply worried all the time. worried for somebody’s survival and second mine. the days everything was told to me to be dark. where i was given only a lens for skepticism and distrust. when he’d call me worried about dying after doing too much coke while smoking too much weed. beg to come drive me. around. while he worried about a heart beating out of chest. him driving me thinking he’s dying from a heart beaten out of chest. him dying hunched over the wheel in the driver’s seat heavy breathing wanting me to die with him. him telling me he is dying. him crying saying let’s drive off this cliff. him telling me he is dying. him telling me he is dying on christmas. on christmas. on christmas sitting in an ER with him all day. i’m now seeing these scenarios from an outsider’s perspective and the girl in them looks so blinded so fooled so confused. i love christmas. him telling me on christmas he is dying. us spending christmas in an ER because his heart woke up hurting that morning from the drugs. him picking me up from my family christmas morning, the two of us going to the ER where they told him he wasn’t dying. me a 19 year old girl, a 20 year old child. she looked at me with tears in her eyes. they all have looked at me with tears in their eyes. there’s a joke about it and then there’re tears in their eyes. they love me so much. they saw that severely confused person. it was not hidden well. i thought i hid it so well. i never did. everyone always knew. i never did. he really had me there. a head held between two fists. ears stuck cupped behind two hands. in a constant state of worry. hanging there. eyes only on the person holding me by my head. how can you look at anything besides the person holding your living? you’re there in the hands of the person holding your entire life and people expect you to stop looking at that person. holding your living. that’s like asking someone hanging from a cliff not to look at the person standing above them. the one deciding a hand held or fingers plucked. how would you ever look away from the person holding your living? this is too long winded about someone unworth it. so here i’ll end it. i am crying about her tears. shed for me. all their tears shed for me. for themselves, losing me. they needed me. i needed nothing but to be told i survived the day. i needed nothing but to be told we could continue. and my tears for them. i cried for them lots. not understanding me. not breaking the seal of what kept me there. i have been talking a lot about my joy lately. it’s in shedding survival. i no longer feel like i’m dying every day. i no longer see everything as dead and dying. the intensity of death doesn’t sit around every corner. only the light of living. these are my eyes. without that added weight behind or that tortured lens in front. those were not my eyes. my eyes have light.

Thin Place: november 19, 2023, 10:07pm

this weekend i haven’t been here. the walls have felt very thin between now and before. i, proximal to it all. in a place of continual revisiting and unsettle. like he’s looming near me. like he’s approaching. like he is right here, in the corner, darkening everything. chills of ghosts passing through me. his and my own. a single word, a single image and my mind has left my body. my body has left my body. and i am in scenarios all made up and all true. an onlooker might see my eyes as windows to some grey place. but this used to be me always. and now it’s only these infrequent days of trapped sickened recollection, trapped sickened worry. i wait for the day this sits up off my chest. it has gotten lighter. what used to be an ocean is now but a puddle only randomly soaking my feet. they’ll be dry by tomorrow. but there’s a chance it rains again soon. 

Excavation Site: november 19, 2023, 10:55pm

in truth i am not ready for how hard this is going to be. to continue to work this all out of me. to continue to work this all out of me. to continue to work this all out of me. with a future partner. sexually. in and through everything. so in and through fucking everything. every fucking thing. i am so sad for how far i let things get, how gross and terrible and awful i let it become. how disgusting and awful and disgusting and awful it got. i never intended to let it get there. but then i was there and i had, small step by small step, allowed it. allowed it to be horrid and awful and nothing that i wanted out of anything. it was disgusting. how close to nothing i let myself become. i cry for her tonight. there in that deepest, darkest place it got. i cry for how my body still has an intimate knowing of that dark place. still holds and hurts from its allowance. still speaks to having been there.

it’s not her fault that the person who she only ever knew to make love to her at some point started fucking her. it’s not her fault that she was still left searching for that same love in that dark place, in that fucking. she wished to find something soft and kind where there was only the possibility of wounds further ripping. i am sorry.