A History of Broken-ness

I have a history of broken-ness and I'm tired. 
My head is tired.  My heart is tired.  I'm tired to the bone and I'm tired of being tired. 
I want to find love and happiness and connection, but it seems like so much work I'm exhausted before it ever begins.  I feel like a vase that's been dropped on the floor and shattered and put back together over and over again.  The first drop was bad but the pieces were big and easy to find and it took time, but I got put back together.  Then someone set me on the edge of a table and pushed.  And I broke.  And I put myself together again.  And I broke.  And again, again, again, until there was no way for all the tiny pieces to be found.  I'm a marbled mess of pieces and edges and glue and tape, and he set me right back on the edge.  I can feel myself tipping at the slightest breath of wind.  It takes everything in me to stay upright and stay together and stay off the ground.  It takes everything in me to stay whole.  And if I break again, I can't say I'll survive. 
I can't say I'd have enough energy or concern to put myself together again.  Not after everything else.  Not after him.  I keep thinking of all these things I want and being too tired to get them or to fight for them.  I swear I could sleep for a month and I'd still be tired, maybe because being tired isn't the real problem.  Maybe because it feels like something deep down inside me is so broken that I don't even care anymore.  I've fixed so many things and I've healed so much that I never imagined I would be able to, but I'm not better.  There are problems that started so early on that still plague me.  Problems with how I see myself.  With how other people have told me to see myself.  Problems with reality and how I hate that it exists.  I'm reading a book and the girl said she writes to disappear.  To shut it all off.  And I think that's the truest thing I've ever read.  I have a lot of reasons for writing but mostly, I write because it tunes out reality and it turns me off and it brings something unreal to life.  It helps me melt into the ground and stop existing.  And that scares me.  The fact that I want to melt into the ground scares me.  The girl I was when I was little never wanted this life.  That girl wanted to be the star of the show and be bigger than life and remembered forever.  This girl I am now...she just wants to be invisible because when people see her, she gets hurt.  And when he looked in my eyes, I was waiting for the hurt.  I still am.  The silence of the other end of the phone is it's own kind of hurt.

To The One Who Feels Like Air

Everything about him is warm and solid and easy.  And I want it.  But I can never tell if I want him, or just what he feels like.  He holds my hand and plays with my hair and makes me laugh and it feels safe and I'm not afraid of it.  When I'm with other people, my blood pressure goes so high that the room starts to spin.  With him, my feet are on the ground and my soul is in my body and my heart is going the right speed.  Maybe that's not the feeling to chase.  Maybe that's just how I'm supposed to feel with everyone.  But I don't.  I don't feel safe with other people.  I don't feel whole or warm or right.  I feel like I'm going to crawl out of my skin.  I feel like my soul is too big for my body and it's pushing against me, trying to escape.  And then he puts his hand on my arm and my soul shrinks back down to the right size and I can take a full breath again.  Is that love?  Feeling like there's nothing wrong with what you are beside someone else?  Or am I the only crazy person who feels like I might float away on the slightest breeze?  Sometimes I think he feels the same way and we're both just clawing at the space between us to keep our feet on the ground.  There's no reason for us to hold hands when we sit in the floor or to hug every five seconds or to poke and hit and touch but we do.  We do it all the time and it's the only thing I have to hold onto sometimes.  It's the only thing that connects me back to the moment. 
I've spent a long time teaching myself how to reconnect with reality.  I count in eights.  I sign the alphabet.  I dissect the world around me with all five senses.  I pick a color and I find it everywhere that I can.  I ration my breaths.  But when he's around, I don't have to do that, I just have to reach out.  Sometimes, it's like he knows and he reaches for me before I can do it myself.  I don't now what that means for us.  Maybe it means we're supposed to pull our heads out of the clouds and be together.  Maybe not.  Maybe I'm just learning what safe feels like and right now, he's the only safe thing I have.  Maybe we're somewhere in between and we haven't found our landing spot yet.  Not knowing makes it hard when he's not around and my mind wanders and my imagination takes over.  Not knowing makes it hard when he's right there and we're constantly reaching for each other.  Not knowing makes it hard in the moments when the world feels way too big for me to function in alone and in the moments when this town feels so small that I fear I'll use up all the oxygen it has.  I don't think I want to be with him, it's more that being with him seems easy and I wish that it felt like that with a few more people.  I don't think I want him, but I want it to be this easy with the people I do want.  I don't know when the idea of breathing became synonymous with his name.  I don't know when the idea of phone calls became normal or when the separate "he" and "I" became the together "us".  I don't know when the tides shifted or when he became part of who I am.  Maybe when we spilled our pain out in the middle of the night and realized that we were both choking on the same brand of poison.  Maybe the next morning when we awkwardly and honestly talked about how rare that feeling was.  Maybe that's when I felt safe for the first time.  Regardless of when or how or why, the fact remains that he is my safe place.  I think of him and my hands stop shaking.  I think of him and my breathing slows down.  I think of him and all the fear that swirls up into a tornado slows down and settles.  I don't have that with anyone else and I don't know what it means, all I know is that it's one of the only things keeping me going these days and I don't want to lose it.  Or him.

Diagnosis: Feelings

Feelings are like this cough that won't leave my lungs.  They rattle around inside of me and clog up my throat.  They tear at me when they come tumbling out without warning or permission.  They burn and they sting and I try to shallow my breathing so they don't catch me off guard.

They settled in like a bad cold so many years ago and then the people came in like weather, changing the climate of my life so I could never truly get well.  I was sick so long the first time, that I forgot what it felt like to be well.  He came in and out, hot and cold, and gave me a long bought of pneumonia and bronchitis and the flu one after another.  They all hurt.  They all felt like death.  They all left me with wet eyes and a throat raw from choking on my feelings.  They left hollows in my cheeks and bags under my eyes and made my chest ache with every fragile breath.

Days and weeks and years passed and finally, I didn't shake so badly when I inhaled.  I met someone who felt like clear air.  Like summertime and deep breaths that didn't hurt.  He felt like breathing after holding your breath for a long time.  And when he left, the cold came in so quick I didn't have time to find a jacket.  I just caught a new cold.  Not so bad as the one before, but the cough lingered for months.  It game me headaches and made me stay in bed and hide from the world.  The world was sickness, that's all I learned from him.  That, and the fact that even things that feel like medicine can make you sick.

When the feelings that felt like sickness finally slipped away, I opened the windows and pulled the curtains back.  My heart was clean but it was empty.  It was lonely and sterile with a smell like pain that made it feel like a hospital hallway.

I didn't know it was coming the last time.  The feelings and their germs snuck up on me when I was least expecting it.  All it took were dark eyes and soft words and they were there in my lungs and I've been coughing for days.  It's an ugly, uneven cough that sounds rough and painful and weak.  It sounds bad but I feel worse.  I feel empty one second and like I'm drowning the next.  I feel so tired, I wish I could quit my job and sleep for the next two months.  I want to sleep until I forget him and I feel better or until he remembers and the truth knocks the sickness right out of me.

Because this cough is lodged in my lungs and the feelings are stuck in my chest and I can't breathe or think or sleep or move.  I want my life back, even if it means wandering the sterile halls of my hospital-clean heart all alone for a while.  I'd take clean sanitized air over this rattle in my chest and the scratch of my throat.

The Thing Is...

The thing is, if you asked me if I love you, I'd probably lie.  I'd grit my teeth and look away and force out a "no" and try to change the subject.

The thing is, even if I said yes it wouldn't matter.  There would still be too much swimming in the ocean in between us that we could never overcome.

The thing is, the way you hold my hand makes me dizzy with hope.  The way you put your hand in my hair and rest your head on my shoulder gives me goosebumps.

The thing is, I try to forget the way you say my name and I can't.  The way you hug me and the things you say stick in my head and replay on a loop that makes me miss you until I can't breathe.

The thing is, I know that it will never work.  But that doesn't stop me from wanting it and from wanting you and from hoping you might want me too even though I know you won't.

Icarus

Every one talks about the fall of Icarus as though he was always in the sky and then one day he flew too high and fell. 
But what I like to see is his escape. 
Yes he was reckless, no he didn't listen, but would you?
Imagine spending your life trapped in a maze and finally breaking free. 
Would you honesty say that your first thought would be caution?
Mine would be freedom.
I like the hope of Icarus, the fact that he reveled in the freedom and he flew to the sun and dove toward the sea. 
I imagine Icarus free, shouting with joy and flying higher than he should because he was stuck for so long and doing lazy loops in the sky.
I like the joy that freedom must have brought him before he fell. 
Maybe because I have spent my life in a maze and I am finally making my own wings. 
Maybe because after being trapped, the exhilaration of flight is intoxicating and I'm ready to fly. 
So you mourn Icarus in the fall but I salute him in the flight. 
One day, I'll have wings of my own and I'll be free and I pray you'll salute me in my escape, even if I fall.

Know

Take me to book stores and let me get lost in the words.  Let me fall back through time into different worlds and countries and places I long to call home. 
Hold my hand when I laugh and hold me tight when I cry and keep your hand on me somehow, someway all of the other days. 
Listen to my stories, because they're endless and they're crazy and they're a part of me, intrinsically. 
Tell me about your day and your life and your feelings because I want to know you better than I know myself. 
Watch movies we've seen a dozen times with me because I love the characters and the action and the story and all of it together makes me feel alive. 
Drive fast with the windows down and let me blare my old songs on your radio and sing at the top of my lungs and put my head on your shoulder while you show my your songs too. 
Dance with me in the kitchen at 2 am and in the afternoon and to the music in commercials and anytime we want just because we feel like it. 
Know that when I feel too much, which happens often, it'll spill over and tears will wet my cheeks but it's not your job to prevent that.  Let it happen and don't be afraid of it, just stay beside me as I dry them up. 
Know that late at night, the mood and the night sky are crushingly heavy and sometimes I might need you to tell me you love me even though I should know that already. 
Know that my heart will be all yours, all in, from the moment you reach out your hand and that it's been shattered a dozen times before. 
Know that when I tell you I love you, it's not out of habit or convenience, but because I mean it down to my toes and you are my world and I need to say the words out loud to make sure you know the truth

How to Let Go

How do you let go of the people who shaped you? 
How do you let go of the things that carved you into the person you are? 
How do you let go of things without closure? 
I like things to end with a nice little bow and a card.  More times than not, it ends in a fight and a finale that says something like "we're better off without each other" or "I don't want to be your friend."  And then sometimes, there is nothing.  There is unspun ribbon and and jagged edges that run on forever and tangle around my feet and trip me up.  Sometimes, I cannot find the definite end, rather I find a moment where the world started to fade to a different color and no reason why. 
How do I let go of that? 
How do I walk away from something if I don't even know what went wrong? 
How am I expected to fix myself and change my behavior and become a better person when I am drowning in a sea of people too scared to call me out on my mistakes? 
How am I supposed to apologize to them for what I've done and ask for their forgiveness? 
I'm not brave but I am not a silent sufferer either.  When someone hurts me, I turn over my arm and show them the wound and often times, it is too much.  Often times, I am bleeding out calling out their name in accusation and they are running away, calling accusations of their own unspecified hurt over their shoulders.  I try to be gentle and forgiving but sometimes, the cuts are too deep and too close together not to call out.  But it is too much for people.  I am too much. 
And sometimes, they leave without a word and what am I supposed to do then? 
When he invites me to something special and then leaves me alone and then slips back in silently?
When they play petty games and block me out and then slip in with a trivial conversation? 
How do I let go without pushing too hard? 
Or is it okay to shove the people who broke me away when they try to walk back in like nothing happened?

Addicted to People

There are lots of things to get addicted to in this world.
I leave most of them alone, but people...you can't leave people alone forever.

And you can get addicted to them.  I do.
They get under my skin and in my heart and in my head.
I see the color of their eyes and hear the sound of their voice and see the way they smile.

People are a tragic thing to be addicted to- a dangerous thing to crave.

Because even after I cut them out, I go through withdrawal and I want them no matter how much it might hurt me.

They used to wind me up and watch me spin out so -snip- they're gone like a loose string on a cardigan.
And then I crave the late nights, I miss the laughter, I want the bad decisions.

He put his hooks in me and didn't care how much it hurt or how much the blood pooled as I tore them out.
And then I crave his voice, I miss the feelings, I want him.

They left me, on my birthday alone at the top of the ferris wheel so I slipped away silently and no one noticed.
And then I crave the society, I miss the crowd, I want the past back.

He looks like all my past bad decisions with softer corners and dull edges and all of him screams danger.
And then I crave his attention, I miss the danger, I want the regret.

I crave people the way others crave cigarettes or whiskey or oblivion.

Even the people who hurt me come back to haunt my dreams and part of me, that broken sick part, wants them back no matter what the cost.

I'm so addicted to people that when I pull away from them, it makes my hands shake and it makes me cry and it makes me sick.
It tore my life open, that addiction, and it's not the same as drugs or alcohol, but it ruined me anyway.
I'm recovering, learning how to pull away, learning how to live without, learning how to choose healthy instead of danger.

But on mornings when the fog hangs low and my dreams are thicker than syrup and my head is full of wishes and wants, the need is hard to shake. 
So I settle for imagination and for pretending things turned out different and for stories on paper where I can satiate the cravings without really hurting myself.

Contradictions

I am all feeling and he is all thought. 

I am the pastel colors that bleed together and fade at the edges.  He is the dark, straight lines that show the picture.  Together, we could make something beautiful, and the thought is terrifying and I think I want it. 

I am all heart and he is all head and together, maybe we could finally have both. 

I am the emotions that slam down the gas pedal and he is the logic that presses the break and steers the car.  Together, we could go anywhere-be anything. 

You would be hard pressed to find two people who are more different than the two of us. 

I am exploding laughter and violent sobbing and more words than you could count spilling from my lips.  He is quiet thoughtfulness and steady plans and gentle joking.  And I am afraid to be too much for him.  But his heart is bigger than anyone I know, maybe even mine, and I think sometimes there might be room for me in there too. 

I am conspiracy theories and belief in wild things and he his fact and truth and together, we could be unstoppable. 

I am the branches of a tree, swaying in the wind and growing ever outward.  He is all roots and depth and strength.  Together, we could live forever. 

And as different as we are, the similarities scare me more.  The faith we share.  Love for family, adoration of friends.  The lack of spontaneous impulse and the finality in all of our decisions. 

I have spent my life chasing whims because permanence is a scary word and when I look at him, I see forever.  He is the jovial youth and the steady life and the white picket fence and the rocking chair on the porch.  He is love and constant reassurance and I need it all and it scares me half to death. 

I've spent my whole life running, floating on the wind like a wish and somehow I ran straight into him and he's everything I ever dreamed of and the truth of it, the reality of how good he is for me, makes my hands shake and my words come out twisted. 

He is all angles and facts and straight lines and I am vines and feelings and colors and I am shaking in my boots thinking I might have found forever.

Child Of The Forest- Read at Bohemeos 1.29.19

Child of a human, raised with Fairies where everything is golden.  This world is new and bright and nothing like your old home.  Who brought you here little one?  The sunlight feels like kisses from falling stars.  Your head is light with wonder and your lungs full of merriment.  Is there anything here that you fear?  Not yet.  Dance weightless, and laugh unbridled.  Sing with the fairies and let enchantment wrap you in its arms.  Bend the sunlight to your will by offering a smile.  Be radiant and mesmerizing.  Let these moments last.

Child of the magic, how long can you keep a hold on your innocence?  How long until they steal it away?  Their world is full of beauty but ethereal faces are masks to hide the danger.  You might love them, but you are still an outsider.  The tune they play is intoxicating, but how long can you dance with them until your finite feet begin to ache?  They cannot lie, but you cannot last.  How long until the revelry turns into a hunt?  Did you know that you are their prey?  You don't belong here.  I fear you never did.

Child of the forest, did someone warn you?  They see your soft edges and your gentle hands and mild words and they long to break you.  You love the glitter of the world around you now, but how long until they turn their pretty phrases to poison and start to spit it at you?  They know you too well; know where to press to make you crack.  Do you know how delicate you are?  It will not be hard to crush a mortal or to kill a spirit like yours.  They were made for this kind of hurt.

Lonely girl, do you really love him?  That beast with glowing eyes and sharp teeth?  Nothing good comes from a smile that wicked.  They taught you not to fear them, so you embrace it.  He feels like a different kind of magic; something dangerous and dark, but you run to it.  You run to him.  You want his shade of darkness.  You want him.  Does it feel like a trap?  Can you see the distraction in his smile?  Can you feel the venom in his words?  Loving him won't make you one of them.  You're human through and through.  Too gentle.  Too weak.  Too blind to see the truth.

Broken girl, do your bones ache now?  Have you fled into the darkness to outrun the truth?  When did their words of encouragement turn to whispers of your failures?  Look at their faces. You'll see the horns.  The claws.  The fangs.  Can you see now the way they laugh when they cause you pain?  You're just a human child, playing at being more.  To them, you will never be enough-until you’re nothing.  You can hide in the trees, but the tree sprites will find you.  Can you hear the hunting call echoing now?  They’re coming for you.  Can you outrun their arrows?  Run.  Run faster.

Human girl, how hard will it be to fight your friends?  This place you called your home has turned its back on you.  Will it break your heart?  Will it break you?  You lived in their kingdom and learned all the rules-that doesn’t make you safe.  Can you turn on them now?  Alone?  For your own good?  There's a long road ahead of you, a war waiting on the other side of the trees.  Are you sure you can do it?  Their glamour is misery when the sharp edge turns against you.  You don’t have much to fight with.  Can you hear them calling, taunting you to come back and be their pet?  Will you go?  Or will you fight to exist? 

Warrior, covered in blood, what have you done?  You demolished a kingdom.  You burned down your home.  And what is left?  What do you have to show for it but bloodied hands and a broken heart?  Does their magic stir in your blood now?  Or is it dead too, like the familiar faces on the bodies at your feet?  You made knives your playthings and you wear poison like perfume.  They taught you too well how to be a weapon.  What happened to your innocence?  Did you give it to the beast before he broke you?  Did you lose it when you cut out his heart?  Dance again, the way you did as a child, wild and free.  Careful now, you might slip on the rubble or in the blood of the fallen king.

Ghost, what happened to your soul?  How much did this war cost you?  You took back your life and now you're alone.  There is nothing left out here.  Can you feel anything at all?  What have you done with the sunlight?  Where did you get the stones to build this wall around yourself?  The war is over; there is no need for all of this.  How tall will you build this tower that you’ve locked yourself in?  We cannot hear you.  It is silent inside.  How long will you isolate yourself?  Can you survive on your own?  Can you hear me?  Ghost?

World of chaos, what did you take from her?  From us?  You lured her in with fairy tales and harmonious melodies that her wild heart could not ignore.  You only taught her parlor tricks while you were casting spells and called it fair.  What did you gain from ruining her?  You made her believe that she was one of you.  Were her wide and dazzled eyes something that you envied?  You've lived here so long, and I wonder, does this place shine for you the way it did her?  Has your world lost its luster?  Did you think devastating her would bring that magic back?

Weeks have passed.  Where is she now?  Is she still up in her tower, locked away from the world?  Did she escape?

The war is over child.  Your enemies are gone.  You can come down now.

Months have passed.  Is she okay?  Alone?  Afraid?  Did she bleed out on the floor?

The forest is waiting for you.  There are new faces waiting to meet you.  You can come down now.

Years have passed.  Who is she now, if she even still exists?  A human?  A warrior?  A hollow shell?

Whoever you are, it’s alright.  You’ll find yourself.  You can come down now.

Broken one, you've been gone a long while.  Is that you we hear stirring at last?  Seasons have come and gone and the world grew wild around the battlement you built.  What changed your mind?  What made you start clawing for a way out?  We can hear you crying up there, from down here on the ground but it’s up to you now.  It was always up to you.  Do you miss the forest and the clean air?  The wild things are waiting.  Come home changeling, come find yourself.  But first you have to find a way out your self-made cage.

Survivor, when did you grow up?  Who is this woman before us now?  The walls of your fortress are dripping red with blood but there was no one left to fight.  Did you have to fight against yourself to make it all the way down?  What is left of you?  Time has healed the wounds of war and this place has grown new.  Does the forest seem different now?  Can you still feel the magic?  Stand still and smell the youth of the earth and hear the wilderness calling for a savage queen.  Do you have what it takes to be her?  Flowers woven into your hair and a dagger up your sleeve.  Sun on your cheeks and shadows at your wrists.  Stolen magic in your veins and fire in your eyes, have you found yourself yet? 

Half witch, half goddess, hold your head high.  You fought for your place in this untamed, fantastic world.  With spells painting your lips and charmed gems that whisper secrets hanging in your ears, go find your throne made of vines and thorns and pretty things and sit a while.  They stole away your childhood, but children are foolish.  You are more than that now.  More than human.  More than they ever expected.  More than you ever dreamed. 

You are wild.  Dangerous.  Free.  Both a luminous child, born of kindness and a magnificent blade forged in white-hot fire.  Draped in the softest colors with words sharper than steel, you can make this world ache to hate you for how much they crave your love.  Let the memories of battle brush across your skin like a breeze and remind you of how you fought to get here.  Give the pain to the ghosts that would haunt you and give the creatures what they’ve asked for.

Child of the forest, did you know you would become their Queen?