Spinning
Spinning
That’s what I felt myself starting to do. Spin. Emotionally I was unraveling and I knew this wasn’t going to be pretty. The spiral of separation anxiety and depression was now unvavoidable and it had pulled me in.
Nothing I was feeling mad any sense. Dance. Die. Dance. Die. How is that I simultaneously wanted to dance and die... Ah, I get it now. Both of them looked like freedom to me.
I was flying, right down the highway. My music loud and my body swinging around behind the steering wheel without a seatbelt. Maybe I’ll crash. Maybe I won’t. But maybe I will. Why are these thoughts plaguing me, when all I want is to feel better?
“Come to the door! Let’s go to a wild bar!” I couldn’t decide where I wanted to land. I just didn’t want to feel. First glass of one, chugged. Second glass of wine, chugged. Third glass, never finished. At this point I was dancing to the appropriately leveled music, wanting it to be louder so I could drown myself out. The last voice I wanted to hear was my own. I never made it to the bar, but I was clearly trying to turn this living room into my own dance floor.
Finally I was coming down. The concert inside me was on its last performance, which was going to be a somber ballad. My eyes were wet, but no tears were making it down my cheekbones. “Don’t forget me.” Last text of the night. An indirect reminder that I might leave it all behind. I’m tired now, and this couch is wide open... I’ll just rest for a bit.
Morning came in cool and forgiving, the same could not be said of me. I felt the pangs of sadness floating around my chest. I didn’t want this feeling to consume me, so I rushed home. No mistakes were made last night, but I certainly didn’t feel good about how it all went down. At this point I just want the spinning to stop.
(10.20.17)
More Posts from Alovejr and Others
Tall, Dark & Lonely.
The train jostled him from one lonely moment to the next.
The train car was quiet. Just about everyone was a sleep or was falling into it. There was nothing outside the windows. Darkness and the occasional flicker of light. He was empty.
The open-ended feeling in his stomach was the pain of loneliness. He clutched his bag as if it would hold him back. Maybe if he squeezed hard enough the bag would absorb his sadness. Regrettably his efforts were no reciprocated.
How? How did he continually end up here? Close. Slam. Shut. The doors to love, companionship, affection, repeatedly shut in his face. Is it his karma? Is he unlovable? Is he simply unwanted?
The train doors are open. The air is warm, but not inviting. Where would it invite him to anyway? Further sadness? Deeper disappointment? Ugh, never mind.
The bed is soft. The darkness familiar. The loneliness his own. Lights out. Again.
(5.11.19)
Chapter 23 - The Achiever
So there I was, the night before my birthday at work, and one of my friends asks me, “was 22 a good year?” Immediately my first instinct is to make a slick comment, but then I thought to myself, “was it?” I realized in that moment all the things that made it great and what could have made it better. A large part of that is in following my dreams and committing to my own personal growth. I want so badly to be extraordinary, and during the year of 22 I was, but in very ordinary circumstances. Next July, I know that I will surpass who I was at 22, but be closer to the version of myself that far surpasses my wildest dreams. Set a goal. Work toward it. Accomplish. Repeat. I am an achiever, and today I celebrate all my past achievements and all of the progress I will achieve from this day forward. To this year of achievement. 23.
Woke myself up screaming during a nightmare. 😔 I tried to calm my heart down but it took a while, even while watching my breathing.
Can You Feel Me?
In your arms, I am sure. In your letters, I am sure. In your presence, I am lost.
You are a stranger to me, and yet you say the sweetest things to me. How can I trust you? How can I trust a stranger who looks at me the way you do? What is this question, burning behind my lips? Why do my brows feel heavy when I look at you? I wish you were as captivated by me, as you are by them. Is it your history, is that what it is? Or is it that we haven’t climbed and fallen together? Is it that we’ve not run off and created mischief together? Do you even care about those things?
Soul searching... I am searching for your soul.
I want to know you. I want to know you will love me, the way I need you to love me. Where is the fire? Where is the passion? Intimacy. That’s it. We rub and spark. We kiss and we spark. We touch and we spark. We speak, but there’s nothing. Our minds do not become interlaced with one another the way our legs do. What is it? How, is it?
I want to play... Be my playmate. Please?
I am raw and hard next to you. I look like an ax, next to you. Where is your grit? Dig deep into the earth and find your manhood. Feel the strength and character grow in your hands. Why? Why would you, when you are decorated in the eyes of so many. You look like privilege and sound like coins, but what is that smell? O how you smell like struggle, and taste like secrecy. Is that the issue? Is it?
Over and under... Desperate to meet in the middle!
Why are we road blocked? Why can we go no further? Is it my familiarity in this realm and your avoidance of it? What am I to you? Partner? Lover? Mystery? Fetish? Entertainment? What he fuck do you want from me?! We are so far from each other in so many ways, how can we connect? I will not press you. Go, be merry and have the time of your life. I have no desire to disrupt you. I only wish it was something we could share, but I am not so simple. Do the pieces simply not fit? Can they grow to fit?
In you it is easy... Out is so much harder.
Perhaps I am too big for your britches.
I pray for us. I hope for us. I cry for me.
(4.28.16)
Push
I’ve been having a lot of feelings & I feel like I just have to push them down & stay neutral for as long as impossibly can. Just stay at 0 emotionally. Don’t go to -1 or +1, just stay in the middle & feel nothing. Stay blank. Stay safe. Stay acceptable.
(Everything in me wants to push this away and feel all the feels, but I know I am not allowed to.)
Choking
I could feel myself choking, on his internalized self loathing and the humidity.
This damn window is always such a bitch to open, but finally- I cracked it open and the rush of air was tickling the hairs on my body, and quenching my lungs.
The floor feels so cool on my skin, my always buzzing with warmth, skin. The shadows and colors on the ceiling look like so inviting and forgiving. They whisper to me, “you love you, that’s enough,” but I don’t believe them. As I gaze out the window I can see the sky, it’s perfectly clear. It looks painted actually.
Buzz, buzz.
What does he want now? To suffocate me further? Leave me alone! Go lie to the world somewhere else. Yo sé quién soy. Soy hermosa como soy. I hate him. I hate how this makes me feel.
I miss you.
Yea, I miss me too. I miss how free I was. How I had no fear, but now I fear losing your love. Losing. I fear losing, but I can’t and I won’t. I can’t lose out on love. Real, free, trusted love.
15 minutes.
That’s all the time I have to pull myself off this floor and feel like a whole person again. To feel my soul light up and be the roaring fire it truly is when it isn’t being snuffed out and stifled by bigotry and insecurity. Ahh! I’m tired of crying hot tears of desperation.
A kiss. A hand on my knee. A lie.
All this to make me feel special behind closed doors. Doors so heavy and thick that they can barely be opened. Doors that if we ran through them hand in hand we could be free.
It’s hot out. 9PM. 80 degrees Fahrenheit. Where is that damn breeze. I’m choking again, this time on the smoke from his day old blunt. Damn, anything else you want to suppress? It doesn’t really matter does it? Of course it does but he’ll never get it. Only one of us choking. You can’t know the feeling unless you’ve choked before.
(8.5.18)
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