sometimes it feels like i’m knocking on a door, even though the word VACANCY is plastered all over the boarded up windows, because i’m convinced i can make that uninhabitable place a home.
(the static in my ears is louder than the silence of the doorbell. )
maybe the problem is i take people like they’re antidepressants — i think that maybe if i fix them it’ll stop the thoughts from gnawing at my brain.
but somehow i always fuck them up more
like, i try to force solutions that don’t work for those particular situations.
(i want so badly to be the puppeteer but i am just the strings.)
i love too hard but show it too little.
i was taught that showing emotions made you weak — so i ripped my heart from my sleeve and hid it under lock and key.
i was afraid if you tore down my walls you’d lose me in all the debris.
i’m still trying to figure out if i love the smell of smoke— or if i just love to watch things burn.
i always thrived in chaos because it was what i was accustomed to.
i still have to remind myself that i can slow down and breathe.
(sometimes i forget to breathe.)
i practice breathing exercises my therapist told me about— in through your nose, out through your mouth. hold it in. let it go.
i used to keep people warm by the lit end of my cigarettes— but don’t come any closer.
he was the first person i let shimmy his way into every nook and cranny— i let him feel the warm embrace of the fire that burns within me.
i heard that sometimes we live in fragments because we’re still building the whole. i guess my avoidance issues are starting to become bigger than just a little issue, because my subconscious pays the price for what my conscious stuffs down deep inside the confines of my mind. sometimes it’s a scent or a song or a familiar face that can trigger a memory well suppressed and the night terrors start back up again.
i long to be free but not outside of the comfort zone i have created. i mean, i want to feel serene and at peace without the weight of memory clenching my heart like a vice— when it comes to fight or flight i know i’ll never catch nostalgias backside. but i know it’s all forward progress because for once i can sit with ill feelings and not feel the need fix it temporarily by digging up old skeletons that i should leave buried.
sometimes i’m stuck in the perpetual velocity of my own delusions. but i know i’ll be okay.
sometimes we avoid things because they only serve as a reminder of places we had once been, feelings we once had, people we once were. but i’m learning to face it head on. and i know i can weather the storm. i’m just looking for that silver lining. trying to find solace in the calm after the storm. i know i’ll get there. i just haven’t made it yet.