poetry

Like A Year 

I am like a year. I go through seasons and sometimes I’m not constant. But with me you will always know what day it is. My seasons depend on my body and the time surrounding it. I can have times where I am barely conscious. When months go by and I’m sleeping due to the exhaustion. 

Then all of a sudden I will be alive and happy. Where I experience everything going on around me and the Lord is constantly present. 

Again the season will change and all I experience is trial. I get stuck inside myself and God is on the back burner because I need to be strong on my own. Being weak with God gets prolonged and I slowly fall into a pit. 

I’ll end my year flat on my face trying to receive forgiveness. Forgiveness for the same sins I committed the year before. Making empty promises to my God about how I will serve him through out my year nonstop. 

I know what my seasons are and that I need to change them. But I never do. Each day I know I’m doing it all over again but I let it take its course. And through out it all, my savior is still as close to me as my right hand. What a fool I am and what a merciful God I serve.

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At times like these…

… I am all alone. I don’t know where to go. I want to tell someone about how I hate myself but the one person I can tell is overwhelmed by my existence. I just want to say that I hate myself and I need someone to love me. I don’t believe that I am able to be loved, at least not very easily.  I am burdensome and I am so sorry. I can’t do anything for myself and 1 person to do the job of 2. Then I expect them to want to spend their free time with me. People will tell me that it’s all lies that I’m telling myself but why do I feel like I’m through the lies as my reality. It’s something I can’t shake. I just want to make people happy. But I bring them down to where I’m dying and they constantly push me away.

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Abuse Education 

Survivors of abuse, whether it’s physical, mental/emotional, or sexual, need support. Let’s be honest with ourselves, we don’t like talking about those things. It’s graphic and horrible but it’s time to start talking. 

I want to educate you on somethings that happen when someone is abused. If you have never learned about abuse, I want you to take what I say and remember it.

1. We survivors feel shame. Why? Because we think that our abuse is our fault. It is a huge lie that the abuser and society tries to tell us so that they don’t have to deal with the consequences of the abusers actions. I can tell someone all day that the shame that they feel belongs to the person that hurt them. Will that stop them from feeling that shame and guilt? Absolutely not. As the people surrounding them, we need to validate this. We need to change what they think is true but it is ultimately up to the survivor to make an effort to believe the truth.

2. People who haven’t been through abuse, say the stupidest things to the people who have. “Why didn’t you just leave?” “Why did you get so drunk?” “You should have called the cops.” It goes on and on. If you don’t know what to say, here’s a guide line: “I believe you.” “It is not your fault.” “Let me help you.” “Do you want to talk?” Remember that you have no idea what this person is going through and they need your help. They are using their strength to persevere and may not be in the right mind set. Like they my be constantly terrified. Someone may not be able to leave their situation because their abuser is in control of their money and other things they would need to leave. We should be on their side and help them make the right choices and not judge them for not making good decisions at the time. 

3. People who go through abuse are not the same after the abuse is over. They loose control over the basic things that they should have control over. They are violated by a person who is selfish and has no care for human life. I say that because the abuser chooses their need for power and control over the survivors life. The survivor is completely different because of this. They don’t trust, they are paranoid, and they are overwhelmed with sadness and depression. Each person turns out different through abuse but different nonetheless. So don’t expect someone to just pick up their life as it was and move on. What happened is apart of their lives forever and they will spend their lives with it effecting everything they do.

4. Not all abuse is the same. People like to compare situations with other people’s situations. Abuse in all forms cannot be compared to someone else’s. Someone who was molested cannot compare that situation to someone who was raped multiple times for a year. The two people would go through those experiences differently. People can be more sensitive then others. The person who was molested could take more time in therapy then the one who was raped. It’s all about individual experience. We stand independently together. 

5. Society needs to treat people who have been abused much better and differently. We look at Kesha’s case some people are not even phased. She has to work with the man that abused her. The court heard what she had to say about what happened to her, and they refused to terminate her contract with this man. Sony has agreed that she doesn’t have to work with him but every time she releases music and profits, he gets to profit off of her too. That’s absolutely horrendous. You wonder why people don’t report what happens to them. Don’t you think if they did and nothing happened to their abuser, the abuser would go after them? 

As someone who is a survivor, this is coming from my point of view. I decided to write this because I am tired of people not taking abuse seriously. I’m tired of survivors being treated the way they are because people are ignorant. We need to educate ourselves no matter how hard or difficult the topic may be. 

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What Needed To Be Said…

Warning: this is about molestation. It does go into detail. 

I want to tell you a story. I had a dream that I was 13 again. I was in a court room with a jury, a lawyer, and him. I was subpoenaed to take the stand and answer the questions his lawyer had for me. 

“Are you ready?” The lawyer asked me shallowly. 

I replied with a question, “So you are going to ask me certain questions so that my answers make Mel look not guilty of something he is definitely guilty of?” 

“I’m trying to get the truth.” He said raising his eyebrows. 

I leaned forward towards the mic, “I am 13 years old and my cousin is 9. Mel is somewhere in his 50s. He lived with her for around 8 months before that night. It was a Friday, the first night of our 2 week Christmas break. It took 2 hours to get there, like usual, so it was late that night. We were celebrating Christmas early like we always did. We begged to open one present before we went to bed. My mom and her 2 sisters gave in. We got Christmas pajamas but mine were a bit too small so my stomach showed slightly…” 

“We don’t have all day..” his lawyer interjected. 

“All of this is relevant and the truth. Don’t minimize what happened to me.” He apologized and gestured me to continue. 

I clear my throat, “I wore the pjs anyway. Later I was in my cousin Warren’s room. We were sitting on his bed and playing video games. All of a sudden Mel stuck his head through the door. He wanted us to spend time with the others. We didn’t want to stop playing so we said no thanks. That’s when he started saying that Warren was into me. And that my cousin wanted to have sex with me. I was shocked, I shook it off as his crude humor. He left and I looked over at my cousin and asked if he would go out to where the others were. He agreed. Once we got there Mel was excited that we came and hugged me. I felt uncomfortable due to the fact that I was in puberty and I didn’t have a bra on…” 

“Did you tell your mom that he was saying those things?” He questioned. 

“No I was embarrassed. I didn’t want to think about those things.” 

Jotting something down he replied, “Continue.” 

I took a deep breath, “Shortly after that we were sent to bed. I slept in my 9 year old cousins bed with her, my mom and my aunt tete in my aunt Cindy’s bed, Mel in the living room with my aunt Cindy on the living room floor. Mel came into the room kissed us goodnight and drunkenly struggling to turn off the tv. He left and returned a while later and repeated the same thing. I was confused but I fell asleep right after my cousin. I woke up groggy and on my stomach. I felt heaviness on my legs but I didn’t process the fact that there was someone on top of me and they were licking and kissing the top of my butt untill moments later. I was terrified. I slowly turned my head to see who it was, and once I saw Mel I jolted back to laying flat. He noticed I was awake and slurred ‘shh go back to sleep.'” 

“Did you scream for help?” The lawyer asked connivingly. 

“I was in shock so no. I couldn’t find my voice for a while after it happened.” He nods and tells me to continue. 

“So  I replied to him telling him that I needed to go to the bathroom. I don’t know why I said it. But he got up, pulled up his pants, and backed into the corner of the room where it was darker since the moon was lighting up the room. I got down to the end of the bed to get up and I told myself not to look at him. But I looked up and saw his face. He looked back and he quickly got angry. He came after me and I ran to the bathroom that was in the living room. He knocked and knocked so I told him through the door that I would be right out. I turned on the faucet to make it sound like peeing…”

 “I’m sorry but you were letting him know that you would come out to him? This is extremely difficult to believe.” He scoffed.

 My anger rose up in me, “You know what’s hard to believe? A man being charged with battery for climbing into bed with a 13 and 9 year old and touching one of them sexually. Him getting less then a month in jail for ruining my life. For destroying my family. I can’t close my eyes without remembering how I felt in that bathroom. I close my eyes and I go back to when I realized that I had his saliva all over my butt and inside my buttcrack. I go back to me sitting on the toilet scrubbing myself raw so that I was sure he wasn’t on me and I relive the moment that I realized that he was still out there with my baby cousin and that he has probably already done this to her more then once. I go back to making the decision to take her place that night. I shut my eyes and I remember the feeling I had when I realized that I might loose my virginity to a 50 year old without my consent. That I had to open the door and distract him from my cousin and I had to do it now. And the numbness my body gave me so that I could survive. I relive the relief I had when I opened the door and I found him passed out on the chair and I ran to my cousins room. And I relive my heart breaking laying next to her and deciding instead of not saying anything about it I would tell. I relive every moment. This is what I call unbelievable.” 

There was just silence. The lawyer was just doing his job. I knew that, but I had to do mine. 

Everything ended, he took a deal and spent 3 weeks in jail. He got to go home to his sister and 2 nieces. Maybe if I actually was able to say this in court then he would have never had the privilege to go home. To be surrounded by exactly what he wanted. 

“I failed…”

That’s when I woke up. My heart was racing. It was a crazy dream. Reliving something and imagining something else that I wanted to do so badly. I never had my chance to say what needed to be said. 

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I’ll Get There…

Have you ever thought about what life would be like if we didn’t hate ourselves? I know for a fact that everyone does. We are all the same in that way but different in the ways we show it. Imagine loving yourself humbly. Do you think we would start loving the people around us too? Or is it selfish to daydream of a moment that I didn’t feel disgust when I looked in the mirror? Does loving yourself have to be selfish? Why can’t we like ourselves in the state that we are in right now? I am always trying to fix what’s wrong. I’m too fat here, I need a filter, or my boobs aren’t even. How do I become perfect?”

I don’t think I have done anything “perfectly” in my lifetime. I don’t even know what perfect is. When will I know when I reached “perfect” when I have never seen it? If I link my happiness to perfection, I will never become happy. No matter how many times I say, “Just one more sit up.” or “This foundation will make me look flawless.” There will always be something “wrong” or something to “fix.” I am not sure how to start accepting my self as I am or how to be okay with how my body changes. I know that I’ll have to take it one day at a time. “I’ll get there, Don’t worry.”

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poetry

Lonely

I’m lonely.

I have a filled up

space with an empty

bed.

I have an empty mind.

Not even my mind comforts

my needs.

I don’t have love

that’s worth singing about.

It feels blank.

And it’s lonely.

I imagine my chest

empty.

I don’t want to depend on

someone to feel full.

I would still feel the

cleared out space.

I want a reason to dance.

Instead I’m still.

Staring expressionless

with the music running

to my ears.

It keeps me motionless.

Statue made of life.

I won’t move and

it breaks me.

It happens when I’m alone.

When I can’t hide the fact

that I’m loveless.

I want to be opened and read.

Taste fingertips and meet glances.

I know I can’t have it.

It leaves me on pause.

I refuse to keep playing.

But the melody is still going

and I’m left behind.

Now I am just so lonely.

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Chronic illness, poetry

A Slow Hollow

It’s slow. Agonizingly slow.

With each moment it grows more

and more swollen.

Closing my throat.

Digging my nails into my neck

trying to catch one breath.

Hours pass and I don’t want to

keep fighting for survival.

I can’t get rid of the poison.

Every heart beat feeds it.

The longer I continue to live

the longer it has to find more ways for me

to suffer.

Who could ever love this reality?

To exist next to it.

Who would choose to suffer

because I had no choice?

It eats me.

Slowly consuming me.

Seven years, what is left of me?

It makes me into nothing.

I’m wasting away, unable to

choose my existence.

I exist as it wants me to,

Hollow.

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