if only my carapace would contain me. shall i drift away then, leave only raw cavity shrouded in dark? there are no lights inside. if we barricade the entrances, seal the exits. retreat softly to the interior, the caves of the deep. will we be safe then. will we.
iggy with his big soft eyes looks at me and wags his tail. he is horse-sized and gentle but can bowl me over with one excited chestnut leap. walking him in the gloaming with fireflies and sweet grass smells and my heart surges with a foreignness i could only call hope. in shame i am relieved when it passes and my steps trudge again.
i need space inside my shell. how do i explain? like furniture with empty drawers, like clear tables, bookshelves stacked one deep. space to turn around in. i need to shrink, to fold up in small corners. to get as far from the outside as possible. an intra-exoskeleton retreat.
11 comments:
sometimes i wish i wasn't seen, and sometimes i wish i was but not the way everybody see's me.
i love your words. i learn from your blog and your words. it's expanding my vocabulary more than any book i have read before. thank you for it.
dia dhuit is hello in irish.
Your words bring a soft but raw honesty. I never know how to feel after I read your words. Inadequate but I feel at home here with you. My general sarcastic nature suddenly seems out of place and I straighten my posture before I get kicked out.
I adore all of you. All of your guises. Everything.
you talk about the way my pysch sees me ...she does and yet she does not reach me nor hear me when she listens. it hurts, doesn't it? it's as if we're being seen through a pane of broken glass ...the image on the other side is there but one can't reach it and so cannot trust that it is real...
am i making sense? your words are eloquent.
xo
I was waiting waiting waiting for you to post so I could write you a big momma ass comment (with oodles of buttah) but after I read this it took the words out of my fingertips. What do you say after you read something like this?
Helooooo
Vanilla?
Do you remember what you say?
Yes, yes yes. Jeez. Cut me some slack.
All I can say is that this is beautiful.
And you are beautiful.
And you are solid.
And you are real.
And I KNOW IT!!!
Because we can see you just fine.
xoxo
vanilla finnegan
dear anise,
the general consensus seems to be that you are NOT filled with muck. i, however, beg to differ. everyone is filled with some kind of disgusting red pulp, obviously, or else we would all be dead; your muck must be a little different, but it's there. it's like a storm, waiting in the wings for its moments of greatest destruction. and because we are so deep and special and creative and original, we should be able to figure these things out, but we're only so young. and this is so hard. which is why i resort to clinical diagnosticians and pills. i really like pills, at the moment. also have no idea where this comment is going... ah yes. because you're this amazing, strong woman, you have to want to feel better, and you do but you don't but you do but you really don't and none of it makes any sense and VOILA! there is another piece of mind-muck you could have done without. take your pills, anise. let them start to soothe your mind. it has been doing a splendid job on its own but give it a slow lap. give it breathing space. if it comes down to choosing the shallow happiness which means you can start to clear out you headspace against sacrificing a little creativity for a little while... i hope you will know the right decision to make.
this doesn't seem to be a very encouraging comment, but anise, i miss the way we used to be and others have come back from this seething black place so why must it be so impossible for us to do the same?
this feels personal, it is because i am essentially talking to myself! ha. you do not have to publish this comment, at the moment I am incapable of gauging emotional correctness so if this seems very cold and mean, please know that...
i love you passionately, anise. you should know that you have only the most tragically lovely muck in your headspace.
ps: don't let them give you electro-shock therapy. The loss of your awing nature would be too catastrophic to bear.
because you're the loveliest. ever.
there is a desire to be invisible rather than seen in a wrong or false way that many don't recognize.. the last paragraph articulates that so well .. xo
oh anise, i'm sorry. pills suck, actually. everything is awful except for you so you can express airmail some of that unwelcome gunk to me.
love,
anon
just going to go and re-read what you wrote on my blog, now.
going, going.
sometimes I think being seen is all I truly want. but when my bones rise beneath my skin and my scars glow, all I want to do is hide.
...because i write posts then swiftly delete them. bad habit. i will/shall stop.
your posts are always so perfect. i am envious of your pretty writing. the good envy which makes you appreciate, not the horrible green envy which makes you seethe.
love the last paragraph in great amounts.
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