General warning for religious themes and existentialism/depression. Will add more content warnings underneath titles on a case-by-case basis.
patience in three easy steps
my patience wears thin, and somehow the degradation upsets me more than whatever's causing it to erode in the first place.
just a plush bear being poked to hell with a stick. yeah, sure, i'm small and unassuming, but i'm still a bear.
and we all know what happens to people who poke bears with sticks.
what are they gonna do when i stop turning the cheek, and instead return the swing?
at sunday school, they kept telling me that jesus from the bible was best known for turning his cheek like that.
lol, come on. his hands were tied to that damn cross long before a Roman ever laid eyes on him.
even if he wanted to strike back, he couldn't.
the man was jesus, the son of god, for christ's sake. what was he supposed to do?
though, in a way, my hands were tied, too. but not to a cross.
seams seal suffocating stuffing within my body, and it's just a matter of time before someone pokes at them once too many times.
one thousand letters in a bottle
ink bleeding through the parchment
pooling at the base
god knows what it's made of
will it stain? will it poison?
maybe it's sealed for good reason.
pinching the cork. twisting
[ congrats class of 2022 ]
[ fellow students. adversity. struggle. perseverance. academics. future. PANDEMIC. accomplishment ]
[ cheering ]
ok. i'll say it. i'm jealous. well. no. actually, i'm envious.
jealousy implies that i had something to lose. i don't. i just envy those who do.
maybe this year will be the year
...maybe last year
it once felt like everything moved forward without me. like i was standing in the stream and everyone else was just floating through it, and i was just wondering why i was being left behind.
god, honestly, it's like i'm drowning now. everyone's still drifting forward without me, but now i'm sinking and sinking and sinking - the blues of the water obscuring anything left to envy, i cannot even remember what life is like above the surface. i cannot fathom the warmth of the sun on my back that cradled me even in my weakest. it's too late to do anything now. if i try, i'll just make it worse. maybe i'm actually swimming in quicksand.
i often have dreams about being underwater. i always held my breath, but then when i couldn't anymore i'd learn that i could actually breathe down there. after all, it was a dream. i'd have a moment of amazement - wow, no way! i can breathe underwater! it was amazing, finally i could have a chance at kicking my way out of here! but the excitement of it all stirs me awake, and i am reminded that my reality is not that simple. just breathing isn't enough.
you dip your toes in and the coolness of the water around you soothes all aches, the brackishness stinging for just a moment before you're nothing but numb. for once, you feel like you belong somewhere. you feel at home in the bottom of the ocean's heart.
but with each passing wave, the surface gets just a bit further away. you don't notice it (nobody really does at first). but, at some point, you look all around and wonder where the hell all this water came from, as if you weren't the one to stand here in the first place. you know what an ocean is.
you wonder if climate change has anything to do with the rising waters, but the truth is you wouldn't have to wonder that at all if you just got up and left sooner. it's too late now, though. you can't even see your legs.
you look up at the water's surface, unable to make out the sky from its film. it's like looking into heaven, and even though you can't really see it, you actually feel like you're staring god in the eye as you sink further and further. you wish he'd lend a hand and pull you free. you wish anyone would. but he doesn't. and neither does anyone else.
30x16, 99 mines - 1m25s - sheer fucking luck
there's really no way i could ever beat that record
i can rush all i want
but i'll hit a mine at some point
i am not the best at thinking fast
and when i'm asked why i even try
without a moment's hesitation i reply:
staring death in the lips
cw: death, suicide implied
plagued by images and prose of those whose deaths i've seen and read. remnants of their very coldness splattered across old cars and sidewalks.
i didn't know what it was. fear or disgust or sympathy or sadness. it was overwhelming, and for some time now i've simply looked away and covered my ears.
it's a longing, isn't it? these are the warm welcomes, those very flames that singe me from the inside out. it's a calling, a beckoning with a wave from a still, pale hand. their blood looks just like mine.
everyone wants to believe in god
but nobody wants to believe in me
i can't make water into wine
but if you give me a chance
i might be able to make something worth etching in stone
i saw the other girls from sunday school stand at the podium and recite the readings to everyone, to sing the solo verses, and i saw how much praise and glory they received
week. and every week i'd watch them step to the podium, and i swear every week that podium just got
taller. their heads
farther from my gaze.
if god awarded them halos for all those readings and solos, there's no way for
me to know.
but maybe that's just cuz i stopped growing in middle school.