Just some things
Posted: Thu Aug 02, 2018 5:58 am
When I was younger, middle school and high school age, I used to write poetry as one of my few outlets. I stopped once I left that house because I thought that since I was no longer in that atmosphere, it should no longer hurt. That was naive and a bit too hopeful but I stopped for a long time. A couple of years ago, I started just writing down whatever things came up in my head, ways to explain what I was feeling just to get it out. I think it does help, just like it did back then. Leeching out some of that poison, I guess, that still resides in there. I used to let some people see what I wrote, but I haven't since I started again. Part of it is personal, sure, but mostly I think it's still shame. Still hurting feels weak, I guess. And then there's the matter of I don't really want anyone to know what I feel, because sometimes it's too dark and I don't like the look I get when I put some of these things into words. It's like a mixture of pity, confusion, and not knowing quite what to say and that kind of stings in its own way. A lot of the stuff is me just trying to remember because either I've blocked a lot of things out or have some terrible memory. I think it's the former though, because occasionally something-- a song, a phrase, a dream will jog it and a memory or two will flood in and it's like I'm in it, seeing it, hearing it, feeling it. But I want to remember, I feel like not remembering and not facing it is just more weakness. And I'm long tired of feeling weak.
I don't really write poems anymore, more just memories or ways to visualize what I feel to better explain it. Anyhow, I thought I'd face some shame while I'm at it because I shouldn't feel shame for feeling the things I feel. So here we go.
There are moments where you’re so light that you’re floating on top of the water. You can feel the warmth of the sun kiss your cheeks and the breeze gently caress your skin. The sun’s so bright it’s blinding, so bright that it washes away all the worries, all of the qualms. For a moment it’s serene and I can find peace. But only for a moment.
And then I feel the pull of the tide. I pretend I don’t at first, dismissing it, wishing it away wanting to live in that single moment forever, wanting to hold on to that feeling of calm and warmth. But the current is relentless and slowly I begin to sink. At first it’s okay, I knew I couldn’t sustain that buoyancy forever but then I start to slip faster and farther. It becomes harder and harder just to keep my head above the water. Harder to catch a breath of air, harder to not choke and the salty water pouring into my lungs. I struggle against the tide, but its pull is so strong and unrelenting and I go under, gasping for air but swallowing water. It drags me down farther from the surface and still I fight to swim back up, watching longingly as the sun glistens on the waves, desperately wanting to be in its warmth again. It’s getting colder and darker and I’m sinking farther. And I’m just so tired. Too tired to struggle against its pull, too tired to even look back up at what was lost. It’s drained me of my physical strength as well as my hope. Hoping can become so tiresome. I close my eyes and let the darkness envelop me, its cold tendrils reaching into my depths and twisting things the way shadows do. My lungs feel as though they will burst and my mind is racing so quickly that I’m dizzied by the thoughts swirling around. I hear the slithering whispers telling me to “let go” and I want to, I just want to let go. But just when I can’t stand a single second longer of this icy tomb, I open my eyes and find myself back at the surface. I don’t know how I got here, I don’t know why it let me, but the tide changed once more.
I don't really write poems anymore, more just memories or ways to visualize what I feel to better explain it. Anyhow, I thought I'd face some shame while I'm at it because I shouldn't feel shame for feeling the things I feel. So here we go.
There are moments where you’re so light that you’re floating on top of the water. You can feel the warmth of the sun kiss your cheeks and the breeze gently caress your skin. The sun’s so bright it’s blinding, so bright that it washes away all the worries, all of the qualms. For a moment it’s serene and I can find peace. But only for a moment.
And then I feel the pull of the tide. I pretend I don’t at first, dismissing it, wishing it away wanting to live in that single moment forever, wanting to hold on to that feeling of calm and warmth. But the current is relentless and slowly I begin to sink. At first it’s okay, I knew I couldn’t sustain that buoyancy forever but then I start to slip faster and farther. It becomes harder and harder just to keep my head above the water. Harder to catch a breath of air, harder to not choke and the salty water pouring into my lungs. I struggle against the tide, but its pull is so strong and unrelenting and I go under, gasping for air but swallowing water. It drags me down farther from the surface and still I fight to swim back up, watching longingly as the sun glistens on the waves, desperately wanting to be in its warmth again. It’s getting colder and darker and I’m sinking farther. And I’m just so tired. Too tired to struggle against its pull, too tired to even look back up at what was lost. It’s drained me of my physical strength as well as my hope. Hoping can become so tiresome. I close my eyes and let the darkness envelop me, its cold tendrils reaching into my depths and twisting things the way shadows do. My lungs feel as though they will burst and my mind is racing so quickly that I’m dizzied by the thoughts swirling around. I hear the slithering whispers telling me to “let go” and I want to, I just want to let go. But just when I can’t stand a single second longer of this icy tomb, I open my eyes and find myself back at the surface. I don’t know how I got here, I don’t know why it let me, but the tide changed once more.
