~Note before I start typing the actual poem: This was originally written on May 2nd. I just couldn’t bring myself to finish it or put it on here until today.~ Dear Facebook memories, Thank you, but I don’t need help remembering how lame I was … Continue reading Facebook Memories
Word association: I say love, you say hearts, I say broken, you say glass And now we’ve made a connection between love and glass, we can start to conceptualize the fragility of love. But the start is nearly a minuscule imperfection in the glass. … Continue reading Word Association
in all my efforts you revile
I try to study
but my brain is growing rusty
I try to listen to music
but all I can say is fuck it
so here I am
trying to be comical
when I should be getting ready to cram
so fuck you finals
I wonder what it feels like to be a rock. Not just a rock. The rock. The rock that creates the ripples that glide across the water surface. One ripple causing fish to change direction for fear of predators. Another one makes a lily pad move just enough to reveal the hidden tadpoles making them vulnerable prey. And another that makes the fisherman look that direction because of the possibility of a good catch.
What will happen to the fish? Will it always scurry at the smallest sign of danger? or will it become so desensitized that once there is actual danger, it will just keep going towards it. Once the tadpoles are revealed, what will happen to them? Will the fish, scared of the ripple turn and devour the tadpoles? Easy prey is the best prey after all. With the fisherman, will his turning eye save a fish? What will the fist do with the new life it has been given? Who in this scenario is the real victim? The fish who will either be constantly scared or forget to feel scared when they should. The tadpoles, so tiny and without shelter. The fisherman, who will miss a night meal because of the distraction.
Yet, the rock is overlooked even though it created this. It will sink to the bottom, grow algae, and be forgotten. It’s contribution overlooked. The fish will just be said to be troubled, the tadpole too vulnerable, and the fisherman too easily distracted. Never will someone look below the surface and see the rock that started it all.
You are my rock. I’m troubled because of you. I’m vulnerable because of you. I’m distracted because of you. I let you fall, sometimes to the pit of my stomach or my heart, and sometimes to the back of my mind. But it is you and it will always be you. No amount of erosion or algae can diminish the effects you have had on me. Does that make you happy? Do you feel a sense of pride knowing you’ve had that effect on someone. Is that what it feels like to be a rock? You get to change someone’s path without the guilt that you ruined their path? How is that right?
Hold on. No more questions. Here comes the next rock. I need to brace myself.
I feel myself getting stronger every day. I may be breaking down more, but somehow I find strength in it. Seeing him has fueled my rage. I’m no longer afraid to say his name. I find strength in saying his name. My voice does not waver; I say it with rage and confidence. On the outside I’m trying to give the illusion of a stone cold goddess. Now, obviously, on the inside I’m kind of struggling. My chest still tightens when I saw your name or have flashbacks. I think the flashbacks are the worst and the not sleeping. I’m starting to see your face when I close my eyes. I’m in a state of constant exhaustion with occasional energy bursts and some distraction.
I’m getting a distraction this weekend. My friend is kidnapping me to get out of the town I’m in. She thinks it will help me mentally and maybe she’s right. At least I won’t worry about seeing you while I’m with her. Maybe a new place means I’ll sleep better.
I’m still waiting for me to feel better. It’s harder when I know that you’ve tried and failed to rape 2 other girls. Which makes me wonder what’s wrong with me? Why did you succeed in raping me? I was told I wasn’t assertive enough. Is that true? Screaming didn’t even enter my head to do, neither did running. I somehow just said, here it goes, it’s going to happen and there’s nothing you can do about it. I felt completely defeated. I just let you, I protested 4 hours earlier, but not when you actually did it. God, what’s wrong with me? I would never victim blame anyone else, but I can’t help but blame myself and try to convince myself that somehow that it was my fault. But why would I have such a strong reaction if it was my fault? Maybe because I feel guilty that I didn’t care enough about myself to fight for myself.
I can’t believe you. Why? Why did you have to come into MY house and invade MY space. Why are you friends with girls in MY house? Why did you feel like for one second that your presence was welcome? In my home? In my body? I hate you. I hate your existence. I hate what you did to me. I hate what you do to me. Please leave me alone. Please stop.
Today in therapy world! It wasn’t an easy day. My therapist is easing us into longer session which means there’s more to talk about. He does most of the talking, but I like it that way because when I talk my mind goes blank or I start worrying. His voice is soothing and sometimes actually puts me to sleep. Today, he let me read my file. It was basically an evaluation of me and how he wants to move forward. The diagnosis PTSD was put out there. It kinda freaked me out. He assured me that there was nothing to worry about and that diagnosis was just a road map to see what might help but it was still scary.
We also talked about my fear of big crowds when I’m by myself and for the first time I felt like I wasn’t in control in the therapy session. I started tearing up and couldn’t stop rubbing my knuckles against the wood of the chair. He pointed that out but said it wasn’t to judge me but to make sure I was aware and trust me I was. Once I composed myself enough to talk, I said that my fear of big crowds comes from being in a crowd of people and no one noticing if something went wrong. It pulls me back to the first rape when I was in a room of people (not necessarily a crowd) and no one noticed that he was groping me or trying to get me to do things to him.
My therapist takes long pauses when I say things he views as significant. I know he does this to make me “sit” with the emotion, but it just makes me want to get up and run or crawl out of my skin. We started a meditation plan to get me back on track so that’s good. Here’s to facing things head on and not running from them when they scare you.