things that helped me get out of a rut

- time: waiting for it to pass was the only way. I needed to go through it to come out the other way and see things in a different light.

- cleaning: cleaning something really well (like the bathtub) helps with that lost sense of accomplishment.

- reading: i read one book this week. short, but a book nonetheless, which took my mind off things. it helped.

- the gym: seems obvious, but hitting the gym four times a week is normally what i need for my mind to calm down.

- writing what is in my head to get it out of the way: a stream of conscious things that make me guilty or anxious, from my head and into paper.

pokes out my rib

I have to admit I have all of this for you

which has nested and rested inside me for so long, I would say

a decade of love in me now pokes out my rib

and it hurts, constantly. I'm in pain, in a pain that you can't see,

doesn't make me wince, it only makes me want to go to bed

and sleep; it makes me think about the end of the world and the world

that is next, what about dying? yeah this protruding love, it makes me 

think about dying; about the second you're here and then the second you are not,

which is unavoidable, I know, but how will it come? will I be alone? yeah,

we're alone when we die, I'm not scared of facing it on my own, but

I am scared that I may no longer love you and not know. that's the greatest

of all the fears. I look at you and that which has been fermenting inside of me

reacts. It draws you in. It pulls in closer for a kiss. but what about what's detaching from me?

how do I know not to follow? how do I know she's not my gut telling me run?

because it makes no sense, let me tell you. it makes absolutely no sense, that someone

so scared, like me, would suddenly chose to leave. I would not do that. but what if I 

had to? right? would you be okay with me suddenly running away? I doubt it. I don't think

you love me in a way that would enable me to escape and come back. nobody does. I wouldn't, 

either. then I wonder: have you ever been scared of not knowing where the end is? does 

it keep you up at night? does it make you curl up in a ball, on the linoleum floor

in the office kitchen, and cry so desperately you don't think you can get out of there for

at least an hour? does it? did you ever doubt your love for me, or has it always been

this solid, this forgiving, this nurturing? why me? why is it only me? is my love

rotting? is it becoming stagnant? how do you get yours to move and flow, tell me,

how do you make it breathe? I need to breathe. I don't think I've breathed in a week. 

all of this is for you and it is for me, too. but just need, I just need time

to figure it out. once it stops hurting. I hope it does.

ten years ago, ten years from now

everybody's doing this trend online where they compare themselves to who they were ten years ago. I was very young, ten years ago. I was also very stupid, but it was something to be expected at that age. 

I can't help but think about myself when I was that age. when I was 25, I used to look at pictures of 2016 and reminisce how skinny and pretty I was. I did that same exercise today and I didn't feel that way - all those pictures, all those selfies, they have a heaviness to them that I don't feel now. I was extremely sad, though I wasn't sure if I knew how to put it into words. so many things happened to me in 2016, many of them terribly traumatic. I just tagged along, I just... I just didn't think. I wish my current self was there to take care of me at that age, I could've used an older friend to help me get through it. yes, I had friends my age, but they were all sort of the same as me: living in a parallel reality where all that matters is drugs, sex, and alcohol. I went out partying every weekend, sure, but I couldn't live inside my house. my room was a mess, it was uncomfortable, and badly lit. if I spent more than 24 hours at home my head would start hurting. there was something about the light, the noises, the smells, none of it sat right with me. and the people that I used to see, the people I used to hang out with, most of them are gone. I have several inches of hair growth now and a significantly better skin texture. however, I am much heavier, though muscular and strong. I don't think I could have lifted half of the weight that I lift now back then. what I noticed was that though I was smaller, I had the same shape. I just shrunk horizontally, but to be honest, in the pictures from back then, I look the same. I didn't feel the same, I know I was smaller and I remember how being smaller felt (fitting in clothes, thighs not touching...) but now I just... feel better. and I never allowed myself to be confident at this size, but I realized I am becoming confident as time passes. I can see that progress is not limited to my pant size (though it is one of the many reflections of it), but it is just part of the overall wellness. I feel better now. I would never like to go back to being the person I was ten years ago. I am glad she's gone forever and I am glad I am no longer acquainted with many of the persons I used to see. those who remain have shown to be loving, caring, beautiful people, but its (again) a testament to growth that I was able to part ways with those that aren't part of that.

if someone was to ask me if my 2016 self was proud of me now, I wouldn't know what to say. she wanted things that were unattainable. she wanted love, sure, but she also wanted to live by an aesthetic principle that no longer aligns with me. I was listening to the suburbs by arcade fire, something I loved so much back then, and now it feels intensely anachronistic. I was a victim of the era, of the trends and the comings and goings of being a teenager with a job. but that's fine, I mean, it is to be expected. I just feel that 10 years from now will be a much fairer comparison than 10 years ago. I know that my expectations of life now are transcendental and will be the consequence of things I am starting to build now. back then, my plans were short term: graduate, move out, try to make it out without getting pregnant. and I have said this many times before on this blog: I am a woman now, no longer a child. I want a house, I want good bone health, I want to marry my boyfriend (who I was already crushing on, 10 years ago, but didn't really know), maybe have kids. that's what I want now and I know those are things I can build towards and reflect on ten years from now. I like that. I like that now my life is more about me, about loving myself, and less about how others perceive me or how I appear to the world. so, I'd say, it's not a fair comparison. I will not live by that.

the oldest tenant

there should be one million reasons to write poetry now.

truth is, it escapes me.

whatever it is that I did, 

                   (or I thought I did)

back when it used to flow through me,

must either be dead or moved on.

not that it's impossible, you know–

I think it's just not that simple any longer, it's

a form or art that wanders off, that staggers through the empty streets

and does not know how to wash the dishes

or maybe even, I think, it may not know

how to stay home and make the apartment a home,

organize and decorate in a way that

prevents headaches and I'm sure

it doesn't know how to love, how to read,

who to talk to about failure, hope, loss and rebirth;

I'm not even sure it knows how to make friends,

how to lose friends, how to approach disenchantment,

who to search for in a crowd, who to vote for,

how to cook for more than two.

it's like she lived upstairs, but I never heard her,

she wasn't home and when she was, her head was someplace else

                                                                       or with someone else.

so when I approach it know it feels alien:

a person that no longer lives with me

and never actually tried to pay rent.

the permafrost

it just feels that lately we're all hoping something better will happen to us. we've all put the work in, and we've been trying to believe and keep believing that this is something worth it. not just me, but everyone around me: the world seems to be so grim right now, that a small sliver of hope is something we're all striving for. I for once tried not to fall for that, because I know how disappointed I will be after things do not work out the way I want them, and today is one of those days. I am not frustrated - I am just disappointed. I do not know what will happen after today but I just honestly don't want to think about it. I care too much about it, but I just don't want to think. Thinking is my enemy. I wanted to write it here to let it go. the more it changes, or the more expectations I put on this, the worse it becomes. things just take so long to resolve. 

I want to grow, I want to be better. I am tired of showing what I am capable of. I want to feel that being good also has consequences. Doesn't seem to have any at all, but you know, it's kind of like the fool's spring: you get excited about the warmth, or the smell of the first blossoms, but it quickly brings you back to reality when you wake up and the ground has frozen again. 

root

when was the last time you were kind to the world?
think about it
think about the ties that bind you to yourself
all of the reasons to stay grounded
teeth sinking into soft sugary flesh
when was the last time? yes listen, remember,
think about the last time you were kind to the world
the last time you held a child's hand
when you heard someone laugh in the table behind you
what makes you an accomplice to the future?
your making, our secret to the divine, is that kindness
I don't know where it lies

a conversation with a friend

do you think holding out for the maybe is worth it?
is hope that harbors something so gigantic,
    the steps you take
    the turns your head makes
    the sighs you let out of shame
is it worth it?
can you keep living forever in the wrong timing and hold out for hope?

george wylesol, ghosts, etc

comments addressed to you

there are many days when i wonder

how would i know if you think of me?

of all the planes we've been on

have you looked out the window and thought of me?

of the impossible future?

of all the missed chances, the missteps, the misshapen directions and turns we never took

of how we could have blossomed and decayed in a single day

defiled and devoured by what no longer is

or maybe

you don't? you simply

never think of what i said to you

in my dreams

     of running away

your hands

you harbor hope. in your chest, in your lungs. in my hands
and in yours. you harbor hope. you wish to harvest it, too, from something else;
reap the earth for something more powerful. but there never is.
seems like we've scorched the last few pieces of land that were worth anything.
so you scoop up that faith of yours, that blinding faith,
that swells up at night and tries to come out,
and you are strong. stronger than you think.
still you think this has amounted to nothing.
i have watched you night after night grow these wings.
i hope you don't see love as something worth outgrowing–
more like a dancing shadow at the edge of darkness.
i hope you share this. share it with me, with anyone.
amass a growing pain for the love that is no longer for us.
i beg you, don't let it drop from your arms.

where would you go?

where would you go if you were trying to escape?

would you steer away from us,

or look inside for refuge?

rebirth

does it pain me to feel like nothing is working out? no. i just give myself into the process. a recreation. something awfully new.

a memory

there's a gap between the world
and the time I spend watching it go by.
loosened by the heat,
I feel it fall apart.

     what do you remember about the summer?

the silence, yeah, I always remember the silence.
at night, especially at night.
sitting on the hot bed with a sweaty nape
watching the light stream through the cracks
between the curtains.

if somebody asks i remember that, and the rain,
maybe the sea, the heat.
but time, no; not time, 

or people. 

there's almost always nothing there
that I should carry forward
into my memories.