“Nemesis Inhabited A Dark Paradise Of Her Own Making. She Never Held Back. I Loved Her For Her Frightful

gooooob morning. today is your day. and if it is not. well who really cares. i still love you lots

baby I can’t bear the thought of letting you down. you’re the one I dress up for, the one I cry in secret for. i don’t call you when the world is crumbling because I want you to believe that I’m successful and beautiful and strong. whenever I love someone new, I hide every breakdown like a secret shame. I know if you found out how frightened I actually am, you’ll leave. they always do. believe me, lover. I know how this story goes.

trigger warning: self harm

it’s been a year since I last hurt myself, an addiction that took all my willpower to overcome. I know I can fashion words into something beautiful but there was nothing pretty about all that self-hatred, all that anger, loss and pain. all that pain coiled in my stomach, gnawing at me from the inside. there was absolutely nothing beautiful about scarring a body that works so hard to keep going. I can’t make this beautiful or romantic or wistful. but it’s over now. I can breathe. I just want to let that fact be.

I loved you and then I didn’t and then I realised how wrong we were. I realised that your hands had not been welcome here and that even when I locked the door, you found a way to kick it open. I loved you and then I didn’t and then I realised I never knew what love was. all those terrifying memories that still feel too close and raw. memories that don’t feel like they belong to me. my therapist calls it abuse and I still don’t know if it actually was or if I’m just crazy and emotional like you said I was. I loved you and then I didn’t and then I was too sad to remember that my body isn’t a graveyard and things will be okay and I’ll never forget you or the things you did but I will move on. all those mornings spent in tears, the heart palpitations that were too urgent to feel like butterflies. your knuckles and the dark and then blinding light and then I have to explain away the bruises again to my mother. I loved you and you said you did too but you don’t hurt the ones you love. you don’t hurt the ones you love. I still loved you even when you did and I still don’t know if it was my fault or not.

Tracey Emin

am I condemned to a life of longing? seeing you laugh makes me go all nervous. watching your eyes light up as your grin threatens to shatter your cheekbones and the way the sunlight hits your hair in the summer as you twirl and twirl and twirl.

or the way your breath forms a cloud around ur mouth and condenses into the chilly night air in the winter. i’ve watched and witnessed and drowned in all the tiny things you do. and god, I’ve fallen in love with each of ur subliminal actions. each tiny quiver that your body makes. it fills me with want. i want. i long for you.

is it going to be like this forever? am I condemned to a life of longing? I would throw myself off the edges of your hipbones under the covers and drown in the tiny rivers under the translucent skin of ur wrists or sin in the holiness of your sweet kiss.

holy holy holy. if god had seen the way your eyes light up with happiness when you see me or the way your hair swings behind you like telephone wires in the breeze as you walk ahead of me he would have not written that girls should not lay with girls. honeyb, you are the most religious thing I’ve ever come close to. moans like a choir, hands clasped together in wanting.

i am condemned to a life of longing.

Kim Addonizio, from ‘Blues for Roberto’, What Is This Thing Called Love: Poems

yeah i know u miss me it’s pretty hard to forget an angel

today, on the anniversary of my final suicide attempt, I went out and witnessed the Black Lives Matter movement, felt the rush of humanity coming together, the inexplicable feeling of togetherness and justice. I squeezed my boyfriends hand and bought chocolate milk, sat by the river with him and breathed in the air. exhaled. inhaled. there’s so much sweetness in the air.

and isn’t that just what we’re here for. to witness and experience all this sweetness. to feel all the pain. to grow from all of it. to cut short that inherited trauma. isn’t that what makes us flesh and bone and cartilage.

my story was not that of a superhero who overcame all the pain and abuse and sadness. I’m lucky enough to have the most amazing people around me. lucky enough to kiss and laugh and run and eat foods that make my heart happy. I won’t make a fairytale out of my story but god, I’m so glad I’m still here. so glad I didn’t leave.

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