when i got home from san francisco, i wrote the date in my notebook. i can’t even type out the date here because every time i see it, i want to throw up. anyway. the date was written on a page opposite an entry where i wrote about how wonderful everything was. the exact words were “today it dawned on me how lucky i am. i have the most wonderful life and i wanted to write it down because i’m prone to forgetting.”
now i see that notebook and everything goes blurry. am i going to have to burn that notebook? i don’t think i can keep it. but i can’t not keep it. it wasn’t even half filled. i think i’m going to have to get rid of that notebook.
i’m sobbing as i write this because i literally don’t know how to move on with my life. my routine has shifted, things have changed, but i haven’t moved on. i don’t know if i can. all of my words have been washed away and i don’t know if i’ll ever get them back. i never want to pick up another notebook again. i never want to be in this horrible house again. i never want to set foot in the backyard or go into the dining room or wash my sheets or open my closet door or fly by myself or turn off my phone or do… anything really. i say the same things over and over because i just feel sad every minute of every day. in the last 14 weeks, nothing has changed.
If dogs ruled the world no one would ever have to take a bath
a painfully accurate description of my past.
i think the saddest part is that i write the same sentences over and over and over again because i just can’t pull myself out from under the rubble and i just feel the same things over and over and over again.
Lee Jordan’s commentary appreciation post
do you remember the first time you were called annoying?
how your breath stopped short in your chest
the way the light drained from your eyes, though you knew your cheeks were ablaze
the way your throat tightened as you tried to form an argument that got lost on your tongue.
your eyes never left the floor that day.
you were 13.
you’re 20 now, and i still see the light fade from your eyes when you talk about your interests for “too long,”
apologies littering every other sentence,
words trailing off a cliff you haven’t jumped from in 7 years.
i could listen to you forever, though i know speaking for more than 3 uninterrupted minutes makes you anxious.
all i want you to know is that you deserve to be heard
for 3 minutes
for 10 minutes
for 2 hours
there will be people who cannot handle your grace, your beauty, your wisdom, your heart;
mostly because they can’t handle their own.
but you will never be
and have never been