I am the puzzle of them all, but now I see people taking my pieces from me and giving me theirs, as if we were in school, collecting cards. Because I spoke and someone heard, we are connected somehow. We are together somewhere else.
To the boy who made me feel lesser and unimportant. To the boy I thought I loved, who I thought loved me.
It’s been almost two years since then and that relationship still plagues my mind.
Prevalence of Violence Against Women
The guilt is what I now have to work through, accepting it for what it was, telling myself my mother would be by my side.
Paper Has More Patience
I’m a teen going through some tough shit in my head. I recently just figured out that I have OCD.
The Very Movement
I carry a suitcase of doubt, and I wonder if I could maybe lose it along the way to my destination. I feel genuinely terrified to become what I need.
He wasn’t doing anything wrong or hurtful.
You Can Never Return
Grieving takes time, and for everyone that is different. I think that the one thing that helps the past recover is time.
We’re all trying to feel our bodies; what it means, to feel, to be alive in this organism that provides such rich lives.
A man like a mountain that I can bury all my problems beneath. The tower, the lighthouse, that undeniable presence, the tide who answers to a common name.
I wrote these words to you at the end of our relationship. One of many ends that led to many beginnings which lead to many more ends, and the final end. Every time I wrote to you, I thought you’d understand me a little more. It never felt like you did.
I'm Afraid For Hope
I am afraid for my future. I am afraid for hope. I am afraid. Please stay inside. Please be safe. Please hug and kiss your loved ones. Please tell them you love them.
Am I rotting? Am I rotting from the inside out? I’m not rotting. The part of me that loved you — it is coming undone.
I pray to sleep every night / And hope to God you hear me, / Wrapped in rosary, / Drenched in kisses from / Everyone except you.
That’s all I have. That’s all I have of the incident — or the incidents — I don’t even have that clarity. I just see the color red.
Why is it so hard? / It’s been seconds, minutes, days, weeks, months, years. / I messed up, I admit it. / I can’t fix it, I know.
A Letter For Mom
This isn't your fault. It's not your fault. I don't want you to feel like you helped sign me up for that class and facilitated, in some way, me meeting him. I'm sorry I never told you that he was hurting me right in front of you.
Love First, Love Always
So here’s a short version: Toxic Christianity. I’ve lived it, I’ve worked in it, and I’m recovering from it. I’m sorry if you’ve ever experienced it and it’s turned you away.
I deserve love, I deserve to be happy. Can I let the same person who broke me, love me? I don't know.
How can I hate you this much? It doesn’t make any sense. How can I possibly hate you as you are now? Aren’t you normal? Aren’t I the one in the wrong?
I'm afraid to die alone. / You know? like to be a found dead body forgot somewhere.
Be Honest With Yourself
Being pregnant felt more like being perpetually ill. It felt like a sickness; it was not enjoyable at all and I was miserable the whole time.
Many More Years
There's no way out, it's swallowing me whole / The dark abyss that’s become my heart and soul / Enveloped by neglect and unquenched desire / I may never know the joy that lights a heart on fire
My story of anxiety and depression is a slow one and not very interesting. But, hopefully, one day, I will be able to breathe. Fingers crossed.