|
TW: Self-hate, scars from self-harm
“I love you” “Why?” https://www.instagram.com/p/CTfd4RRvGsq/?utm_source=ig_web_copy_link The words leave my mouth before I’ve even realized that I’ve said them, before I can even think two steps ahead of my mouth. I want to take them back; I want to reach out and grab them and reel them back in like a fishing line that was sent out too far beyond the shore. Instead, I watch as his head tilts, confused. “What do you mean?” “I don’t know. Forget I said anything.” “No, really El,” he says, grabbing my arm. Whether it’s the nickname or the touch that causes warmth to course through my face, I’m not sure. “What do you mean?” I shrug, leaning against the lockers behind me. “Just…I don’t know why you said that.” “Because it’s true.” I can’t stop the snort that comes from me anymore than I could stop the words earlier, but I still have the good grace to wince as I do. “What?” “Nothing, sorry.” “Do you really not believe me?” His eyes gaze up into mine, and he looks so sad that I think my heart may break. “I—” My words stumble. I can’t lie to him, but I can’t bring myself to tell him the truth. “Winston, you can’t expect me to believe you.” “Why not?” “Look at me!” I gesture at myself, the baggy clothes and the too-tall neck and the faint lines that litter my arms. “I’m looking.” “Winston—” “No, be quiet,” he says. “I see you. I see you Elliot Byrne. I see all of you. I see how you wear baggy clothes because you can’t stand the way your lanky arms look. I see the way you purposefully make your hair look messy even though you wake up at 6am every single morning to get it exactly the way you like it. I see the chipped nail polish on your hands, I see how you scratch it off before you get off the bus every time you have to go to your dad’s for the weekend. I see how you make jokes under your breath when you think no one’s looking. I see you help kids who have dropped their books or fallen in the hallways. I see the way your eyebrows scrunch up when you’re focused on your work. I see you being kind and funny and shy and sweet. And I see how you hate all of it just because it’s attached to you.” “I don't—” “I don’t care what you think El, I love you.” He huffs, sounding relieved and frustrated and like he’s laughing all at the same time. “I love you Elliot Byrne. There, I said it. I love you. I love you. I love you. And if you ask me why again I’m just going to have to punch you in the face.” I stand there, stunned, for a moment more as he watches me. Finally, after it seems like it’s been an eternity since I’ve moved, I say, “Okay.” “Okay?” he laughs. “I proclaim my love on high for you and all I get is ‘okay’?” “Yeah,” I say, and I’m laughing too because Winston has one of those laughs that you can’t help but smile and laugh along with. “For the record, I love you too.” “Oh I know,” he says with a wink. And I’m laughing and I’m smiling and I’m rolling my eyes and all the while I’m wondering how I got so lucky.
0 Comments
The wind is blowing
Outside it’s snowing And it’s getting cold outside The fire’s dying The world is trying But it’s getting cold outside So while the fire dies And the sunshine tries In vain to keep us warm Will you hold me Through the night In your arms To keep me safe From the frigid air? Deep beneath the waves, an echo of the past ripples through your mind. Past legends warned you of the waters which you cannot see. Never cross the border where you can’t see beyond your feet. Those warnings were just feeble tall tales. Right? https://www.instagram.com/p/CaZrhq7LO3H/
…I bite my lip and glance out at the waves crashing at the shore. The sea is dark, the stormy gray-blue that mother always warned me about. The skies above aren't much better, with almost-black puffs of clouds spreading across the horizon. The wind’s picked up now, chilly against my bare arms. They always warned me about what lurked beneath the depths. I inch into the water, slowly, so as to not submerge myself with the ice immediately. And that is what the water is, ice. I’m not sure how it isn’t frozen like the snow that litters the shore behind it. I hardly even have time to wonder about it as the water creeps up past my toes, my knees, my waist, up to my chest. Only my head is left, and it’s always the worst part. With a grimace, I plunge underneath the icy water. For a moment, just a moment, my entire world is on fire. Well, not fire. Fire implies that something is flaming and hot and that is definitely not what is happening here. But it does burn, just as much as a hot metal skillet on mother’s stove would burn my hand. The pain overtakes my mind, freezing everything, and for a moment, it’s all I can do to keep my feet on the sand. But, like all kinds of pain, it becomes bearable. As second by second passes, the burning subsides to a dull ache. An ache that makes my blood pound and a sea-salty smile creep across my lips. My hair is wet and my clothes are wet and my entire being is cold and burning, but it doesn’t matter so long as I’m here. The pain fades into an ache, and the ache gives way to a kind of euphoria. An elation. I kick further into the sea, only breaching the surface for air when I so desperately need it that my lungs start to burn worse than the water around me burns my skin. I kick and I swim until my muscles are tired and aching with the effort. I swim until I cannot see the shore. It is only then that I plunge beneath the surface, letting loose the breath in my lungs as I kick my way to the bottom. Mother always warned me about never swimming out too far, about what lurked beneath the depths of an ocean where you could not see. No one had the mind to warn her about me; no one had the mind to warn anyone about me. Not until it was too late. TW: Implied depression
My phone battery is running low It’s been on low power mode Since I left my home I’ve got plenty of DMs From family and friends Just checking in “Hey how you’ve been?” I know they mean well But can’t they tell That every call And every message Is creeping down my phone battery I can’t take it all Please just plug it in Charge my battery Back to 100 again Cause if this keeps going And my phone battery dies I don’t know what I’ll do Just before waking https://writersrelief.com/2018/12/14/125-of-the-best-poetry-writing-prompts-for-poets-writers-relief/
What’s that moment Just before waking When your dreams are starting To slip away The pain pulses through your veins As you try to chase down The start of your day Is the moment Just before waking Anything more Anything less Than a moment Just a moment When a person’s mind Is between life and death? You have ink stained hands
You have paint stained clothes And your eyes always rest On the horizon You have bushy, slept-in hair And you’re never really there In what world Do you spend your time? Will you show me your way: The things you create The beauty you see in a world That belongs only to you? I don’t feel safe
With you I guess this game Is overdue But you’ve always been by my side How could I have known? How could I have known? Friend, please Why couldn’t I tell? It’s like You’re under their spell But I still thought you’d pick me How could I have known? How could I have known? You snap and you snarl You bitch and you bite I’m trying to save you I’m trying to fight And everyday when I look in your eye I live what they did I live when I died I live how you got me through What have they done to you? How could I have known? The person whom you have been trying to talk to for ages finally answers the phone. Who is this person? How does the phone conversation progress?
https://www.writersdigest.com/prompts/writing-prompt-im-glad-you-called TW: Cheating “Hey.” His voice was as rich as I’d remembered it to be. Deep and full, warm enough to heat you head to toe. It sounded groggy, as if he’d just woken up. “Hey Harley,” I replied, painfully aware that my own voice squeaked as I said the word. “Um, I’ve been trying to get a hold of you.” “I know.” A sigh from the other end. The tug of a lamp cord. Shuffling, as I assumed he was sitting up. Was he in bed? In his living room? At someone else’s place? I didn’t dare to ask. “So what did you want to talk about?” I sighed. “I just…I don’t…” I guessed months and months to think about this conversation hadn’t made me as smooth as I’d hoped. “I miss you.” The end of the line was silent. I tried not to make myself sick over the tension coursing through my body. Finally, he said, “I miss you too.” My heart soared. “Really?” I asked, unable to keep the shock completely out of my voice. “Yeah, I do.” A pause, more shuffling. “So what do you want to do about it?” “Well, I’ve been doing the things we talked about. Managing expectations and demands and such.” I knew that I sounded over-eager, but I couldn’t stop the words from tumbling out of my mouth. “I know that I wasn’t treating you fairly. I get how you felt judged and stifled. I know things aren’t going to be perfect, and I don’t expect them to be.” “Not anymore?” “Not anymore,” I confirmed. “I just…I really need you to listen to me—” “Here we go again,” came his sigh. I flinched. “Listen, Vic, I want this as much as you do. If not more. But I can’t go on and on with all of this ‘you need to listen to me’ bullshit. I’m not your pet.” “I…I know you’re not,” I said, stricken. “I just…communication is really important….” “I know it is to you,” he said. “But that’s just not the way that I roll. I need some space. Some privacy. I can’t just share every little detail of my life with you, you know that.” “And I don’t expect you to!” The right thing to do would be to shut up. To stop talking. To agree to his demands, to apologize, and to move on. But I couldn’t stop myself. My big mouth had always gotten me into trouble. “But if we’re going to share a life I want you to trust me. Trust is so important and I know that you have your issues with everything but I don’t think I’ve done anything to make you think that you can’t trust me. And if I have I can work on it, but I just really want us to—” “Who’re you talking to?” said a groggy voice on the other end of the line, a man’s voice that I didn’t recognize. “No one,” Harley said. “Listen Vic, I’ve got to go. I—” “Who’s that?” “Who?” “The other person you’re talking to. Who is he?” I could feel the tension rippling from the other end of the line. Harley swallowed, hard. “Someone.” “Someone…?” A sigh. Then, “My boyfriend.” Everything inside of me froze. The whirling waves of anxiety that had been grappling my chest stopped. It gave me whiplash. The whole of my insides clenched as my brain tried to process the words. “Your….” “Boyfriend,” Harley repeated. “I didn’t want you to find out this way.” “I—I thought—” “I know what you thought,” he said. “And I want to work things out too. It’s just—” “So you found someone else?!” I asked. “Seems like a pretty great way to work things out.” “Victor—” “No, I’m done.” The whirling waves of anxiety were back, and they were threatening to make me sick. It was high time to get out of here, before any of that happened. “Goodbye Harley.” |
Archives
July 2022
Categories
All
|
RSS Feed
