my bones creak, like weary floorboards of an ancient home. and these things add up, you know–like, what do they say? straw that breaks the camel’s back? i feel kinda stupid, even saying that. ’cause there are so many things in my life i take forgranted, you know?

’cause i’m an ungrateful little kid, i’m arrogant and confused. i talk shit, and blend in, change my opinion to match a room.

and i use the wrong words all the time, when i’m trying to tell you that i’m sorry. sometimes it comes out like static, or a nightmare of wanting. sometimes it rattles my bones.

but i am trying not to let my opinions bake in an oven, and stay that way for the rest of eternity. and i just hope that i do good by the monsters under my bed, because i’ve lost too many years sitting in a graveyard, and watching myself become history from another person’s point of view.

but it’s been a while since it slammed into me, in burning yellow hue. oh you poor little bird. look at you.

In my photography course, we were learning about parallax–how everything looks different depending on what lens you look it. For example, if you close one eye and look through the other, than close that eye and look through the one you just close, you notice the world around you shift, just a little–but if you open both, it kinda meets somewhere in the middle. (I don’t know if this is common knowledge or not, but I just learned it and I think it’s so cool, please humour me.)

Anyway, I think it’s a really pretty word, and I thought there was a poem somewhere in that, and this is what I ended up making. I hope you like it. 🙂

it’s been a long night

you know how it starts. scrolling through twitter for two hours straight, in your mess of a bedroom.

and maybe you haven’t eaten since seven, when cried into your cereal. maybe you woke up to the sound of sirens. or maybe your brain is just like this.

and so your stomach begins to twist. because you’ve been riding a rollercoaster that you didn’t sign up for for weeks now. kicking, and screaming, and begging to be let out.

so maybe your fingers shake as you type. maybe your thoughts flash like thunder through your mind. maybe your feet fall asleep, and the rest of your body sure as hell wants to. because it’s been a long night.

and maybe you freeze in place, every time someone meets your eyes. because i know i do. maybe your body feels like a tired grandfather clock; rusty gears this close to giving up….

maybe my mom is right. maybe we will survive. maybe i’ll live past thirty. maybe i’ll have a nice, happy life.

maybe the grass is greener on the other side. but it’s hard to see that right now.

so i’m sorry. for my cold, jaded edges. for my razor-sharp self hatred. i just don’t know what to do.

because the world is on fire. and i still can’t hate you.

blood moon

the suburban lull slithers down my thighs. shattered dreams, shitty motels. broken teeth and downcast eyes. i want you to know you’re worth more what you give to other people, all right?

you don’t have to play dumb. don’t have to blink innocently. and no matter how they word it, you don’t owe it to anybody.

not the blood moon, clawing its way down the sky. not the parched book pages. not the twinkle in his eye. you are the aurora borealis; a thousand watercolour shades, bleeding down the sky….

lead blankets. a fuzzy guitar riff. and oh, sweetheart tell me why. tell me how you suck in your stomach, how you keep your head down. how you give up so completely…

welcome to the land of the reckless and the brave. where dreams go to die.

february 27th, 2020

to be honest, maybe i’ve spent my whole life like this. wondering if there’s anything in the world that could make me forget that i exist.

and to be honest, maybe i don’t know who i am if i don’t hate myself. but… maybe it’s time i figured it out.

because there comes a point in everyone’s lives when the past is not enough anymore. when i have a choice. to let it define me, or to let me define it. and i refuse to accept that this is all there is.

so for all the times i’ve said it, i’m not sorry any longer. i’m not your damsel in distress, i’m not your punching bag, or your little kid, and i’m not perfect, or invincible.

but i’m not fucking helpless. 

So… to explain the origins of this poem, basically, for a solid four years, I was bullied in school, and I’d be lying if I said that’s why I have anxiety, but it definitely messed me up, and I guess this was just my best attempt at talking back to that part of myself. 

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just a little unsteady

shaking hands. paranoid thoughts. and i think there’s something wrong. because i can’t breathe. can’t think clearly. spent the entire morning just trying to get over my anxiety. 

pounding heart, and i think i’m alone in the world, and someone please acknowledge me.

and of course you’ll try to talk me out of it. you’ll grab onto my hand, and tell me you love me. tell me you love me. tell me you love me…

but it never sinks in. not properly. i can’t feel the floor or my mind or the vague sensation of gravity, could someone please tell me what’s happening to me.

and if there’s a pill i could take. a magic spell i could say. or, i don’t know, something to squirm through the plot holes of my mind and make it all go away that would be great thanks. good bye. ok.

i am ok. i am ok. i am ok. animated motions, watching myself from far far away. and you know, this is the thing about anxiety: there are days when it’s honestly ok. days when my mind is deep, dark lake and yeah it’s a little scary, and cold, and generally shitty but… i don’t know, maybe in the right light maybe we could still call it pretty. 

and then there are days like this. when my mind is a tsunami. when the dark thoughts bear down upon me, and there’s nothing i can do. nothing i can say. and at this point, it’s out of my control. ok?

I keep having really bad panic attacks at school–so I guess this was my best attempt at writing it out. I’m not sure, but I’m pretty sure this poem was penned at a city bus stop while I was waiting for the bus to come take me home from school, but not entirely sure about that. Anyway, if you’re going through the same thing as I am right now–if you’re in the same, dark, shitty place where everything feels like it’s encompassed by a mental illness, I just want to say that you’re valid. And it’s hard. It’s so hard. But you are never the only one who feels like this. And I know we’ll get through it. ❤

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