Write

I have no wounds visible but I am bleeding. And with this blood I will write.

I will write my heartaches and sorrows away. I will write down the confusion, uncertainty and insecurity to navigate through it and make sense of it. I will write and write and write until I find an order to the thoughts running chaotic in my mind.

I used to write when I am very happy. Over-romanticizing the simple things, bubbling with joy and hope.

I would write in my fear. List down all the things that haunt me until my heart is still.

I would write when I am sad. I would turn my tears into ink and stories and poetry.

But there is nothing poetic to being empty.

So I would write and rant until I find where all my thoughts are hiding. I would write until I am full of words that do not rhyme just so I will not be empty.

I wrote a song for him yesterday. About how I have stopped waiting. About how I have given up. About how the butterflies in my stomach are all dead and turning into dust.

It was a song of wishful thinking. How I wished to rip my heart out so I would no longer feel it breaking. How I craved to be powerful enough to finally stop loving him. Of how I do not care about the silence between us when really, it has been driving me mad. When I am really powerless and helpless and how I really want him back.

I wrote of how I no longer care when every day I wake up waiting for his message and every night, I fall asleep with his name on my lips like a prayer. With tears unshed and words unsaid for far too long the letters are all a jumble in my head.

And still I will write to get them off my chest. Like half-digested meals of yesterday, I can not identify the feelings that I shed. Like old skin. Like baby teeth, said Sarah Kay. Parts of me I no longer need. And yet they hurt when I pulled them out of my heart, kicking and screaming and refusing.

Last night I slept with my ukulele beside me in bed. The notebook that held the lyrics lay open, fluttering in the wind. Maybe they crawled back to my chest in my drunken sleep. Because I woke up this morning with the same baby teeth. I woke up to the same feelings in between my cracked and broken ribs.

When I do not write, I run away. I try to push him at arm’s length. I wanted to show him I am not affected. But I am. I am. I am.

Because everyday, the same refrain plays inside my head. I want you. I need you. I love you. I love you. I love you. Why won’t you love me too?

Distance suits you well. You have found some playmate to flirt with I guess. And you can stop caring about me and my opinions in a snap. A trick I never learned. How to switch your feelings on and off like putting on a new mask. You can go for hours without hearing from me. Days without asking about me. You never really cared what goes on in my life but this is a new level of indifference.

And yet here I am, the stupid girl. Screaming inside my head “Please love me.”

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Underwater (June 1, 2017)

It’s like I’m drowning in the streets.
The noise of cars racing by
Are muted by the sound of the waves
Of blood crashing against the walls of my veins.

It was beautiful, looking at the chaos
And hearing the ocean
In the middle of the city.
It is like watching a movie with the wrong foley
But everything is still in sync.