i want to write small because i feel small and bad and stupid for saying this. for harping on it. for making it a big deal. for saying too much about it. for talking about it too much. for just everything i’m not supposed to do. for everything i’m not supposed to be.
for talking about it and proving it isn’t true for saying too much about it. for being a baby about it. for making too big a deal out of it and so it just proves how untrue and unreal and how much we just want attention and we’re being melodramatic about it all. for just again, for just being. for just everything bad that pores from our cellular body and just spreads everywhere around us.
for just.. just… oh how i must stop now. try to express this and precursor it so that people know we know. so that we have said it and that those of us that are going to say it, so that the others know we know it. that we haven’t forgotten. that we know it. and we’re going to say it and be bad anyway.
just this memory has gotten a hold of us. a hold ahold what is the spelling and word we’re looking for. and shit, i said, “memory.” it’s not. it’s not. it’s just a stupid fucking story. nothing else. but yet tears escaped. emotion escaped from nowhere or i guess really somewhere.
Continue reading ‘just need to’
I used to know what it was like
to hang my head low
and see the stars at night
take me with them into the light.
But now what’s left of me
is ever so still and lost,
taken into the night
and starved to death of any fight.
This fight is not my own
and never was, though people
say I did to survive.
I did not fight
the will of men
breaking-in to
my light within.
For surely I would have died.
Oh but this is all a lie
and I never would have died,
for I was not there, nor they were there,
to lie by speaking a lie.
Doesn’t anyone see
Survival isn’t mine to own;
They chose whether I lived,
and they choose whether I die-
then or now or years to come.
It’s weird to see the date of my last post and to be finally writing something again. I didn’t realize it has been basically a week. I think of this as the night of August 13th and not so much the 14th. I’m so fatigued these days in writing. I’ve so much to write about too. I’m trying to tell myself to just not think about all that we need to write about and to just write a little bit about something at a time, when we can, as otherwise we get so overwhelmed and exhausted in just thinking about it.
I want to say quickly, before I forget, that I did have brief flashbacks of the dream I had last night (night of the 12th, early morning the 13th). One of the things that I recall is me in adult form completely screwed up in the head and externally with those people around me. I mean really overtly in behavior. One scene that keeps repeating itself in my head is me curled up on the floor, unable to move, and there are a few other people around (not system members), and I know they are talking about me or aware of me and I’m so “out of it.” They also seem very accustomed or used to me being overtly so screwed up and not masking things anymore. So in the dream, I think I’m both alternating between being in my body in the dream and being outside my body observing it.
Continue reading ‘a “please help me” dream’
Recent Comments