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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poetry, Uncategorized

Can You See Me?


I am hidden.

I pride myself on being 

transparent,

but I find that I am so

much so, that I am invisible.

I have no color. 

I feel myself 

and there is no intriguing 

substance.

I have lived only 20 years 

and I just bought my 

first thong.

I am behind the times.

My body is a chameleon.

Morphing to the colors, shapes,

and habits of my surroundings.

No one can see me. 

Why do I blend into what 

I don’t want to be a part of?

How do I find myself?

Why does my honesty 

hide me?

Why can’t you see me?

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Chronic illness, poetry, Uncategorized

Things That Pop Into My Mind


I like the smell of rain 

when it hits the pavement.

I don’t enjoy puddles 

because I always forget 

to buy shoes that are meant 

for jumping in them.

I have never envied others 

for having siblings because 

I knew if I had one,

they would be the better 

one.

I could stare out a window 

for hours, just spacing out 

at the nothingness.

Daydreaming while standing or 

sitting, creating worlds that

truthfully I never want

to become reality.

In middle school I was so 

bullied, that I changed my 

handwriting five times,

all as an attempt to get them

to like something about me.

I don’t know what my natural

writing looks like, since

when I don’t think about it,

it looks like five different fonts.

There is this reoccurring 

dream I have that I watch 

myself walk down stairs.

All in slow motion, then

suddenly,

I see a knife stab me in the 

chest.

It restarts, same snail speed.

Leaving me feeling anything but 

terrified.

What I do fear is fate.

Not mine but his and hers.

He’s gullible and enrolled in

the military.

She thinks life is like a

game of “follow the leader.”

Both big hearted, 

both scared of their past 

truths.

Afraid of being alone 

with themselves.

I know that I’m not 

going to ever work like 

my mother does from 9-5.

My body is broken and

there is no fixing it

with doctors, medicine,

herbal therapy, yoga, veganism,

vampirism, or detox program.

There are times when days 

go by and I realize that I haven’t 

eaten.

So no Shelly, I’m not thinking of 

children anytime soon.

I somehow have a zit on

my ear.

That won’t stop me from

picking at it like the rest.

I’m not afraid of confrontation,

in fact when it happens,

I get a thrill from fixing problems 

or even putting people 

in their place.

I want someone to hold me 

but I’m scared that when someone 

does they will find my intimacy 

repulsive.

This is my madness.

The FAQ sheet of yours 

truly.

Ramblings of a chronically ill,

pajama party loving,

chocolate eating,

wise-beyond-her-years,

20 year old woman.

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Uncategorized

What A Broken Love We Have

I find myself in the same situation so many times. Misunderstood by my dad and his side of the family. Then I am the enemy when I try to explain and my mother is to blame, since she is the only one who raised me. 

Sophomore year was emotional. Not only was I dealing with health issues but also my fathers drug abuse. After I had enough of my life being in danger in the car one too many times, I went to my grandmother. I told her how he was struggling with addiction and driving under the influence with me in the car. How we went into on coming traffic and how I had to steer for him on 30 min or more drives. She did nothing, the only words she said to me was,”You are lucky to have a father.” The phase that my dad would use to excuse his actions. 

My father and I drive home. I was lucky enough to have my permit at the time so I could drive him home. I had had enough so I uttered,”Dad, it’s me or the pills.” He   Looked over at me while I was driving anxiously and flatly said to me,”I am not throwing away my pills.” Heartbroken I replied,”Okay.”

After I got home, I told him to not bother speaking to me until he got clean. What I didn’t expect was that it would take him a year or the blame I got from my grandmother and my aunt. Knowing everything, I was to blame. I was wrong to stay away. Even though he did clean up and now we have a relationship again. I am still a terrible daughter and granddaughter. They still don’t like my mother even though they have never put effort into taking care of me. Even though they have never taken an interest in anything I have done or have helped with my medical care. We have asked for money and they bitterly obliged. 

They love me when I sit quietly. But I have illnesses that are constantly screaming. I will not be walked over because I was raised by “lower class.” I will not take anyone seriously when they try to give me “treatments” when they don’t care enough to ask about or research the illnesses that I have. I will not take your words when it has to be said through others because you won’t tell me yourself. We pride ourselves on being family but we don’t even love each other enough to care about each other. Let’s stop pretending that our family is doing well. I am willing to fix what we can but first we need to acknowledge the truth and be honest. 

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Christianity

Let Him Go, Love God

tumblr_nvg0okceop1un115xo1_500Since I had the ability to remember, I knew I wanted a boyfriend. I knew that I wanted to do life with someone that I was in love with, and someone that was in love with me. As I grew up, it became an obsession. I could blame it on my Dad for not being a great dad and I could blame it on my sexual assault, but those things just made the problem worse.

Once I hit puberty, my search for love and affection went into overdrive. It constantly caused me to be depressed. I would search for something instant, knowing that it wouldn’t work, then I would be rejected. I didn’t handle the rejection well. I would go down this spiral of despair and tell myself that I wasn’t worth loving. Then my first long term boyfriend came along. It was thrilling but shortly after I knew that we were using each other for validation. To prove to ourselves that we could be loved and that we could love someone else. We used each other to feel better about ourselves because our lives sucked. You can imagine how that relationship unfolded.

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For me, It was him.

You don’t actually have to imagine because I’m going to tell you. He was never good enough and there was always some standard that I wanted him to live up to. Most of the standards were reasonable, for an adult male that was mature. He was younger then me and I was expecting him to be the man that he was still learning how to be. Once sex was introduced, we were doomed to fail. We never had sex but we did other sexual things to each other. We wanted to make each other happy because we knew deep down that that was the only way we could keep each other happy. Once you get a taste of something, you want more of it and then you have to go further. For two teenagers wildly enduring hormones, it was hard for us to stop. I remember one time when he went too far and I told him to stop twice. Since I had PTSD from my molestation, I had a panic attack when he wouldn’t get off of me and screamed. He jumped off of me and he was terrified. I didn’t know what to say. I also remember the day my mom walked in on us. We both agreed that we would stop fooling around. That lasted maybe a month, then I started it back up again. I had shame and guilt even before we were caught. I started it back up because I was afraid of loosing him.

 

We looked great on the outside. Everyone thought that we were cute, some tried to break us up. On the inside, however; our relationship was us hurting each other, saying sorry, and then doing something else that hurt the other person. I have abused him, he has abused me. Emotionally, Physically. I have slapped him and he has forced himself on top of me. We were good at faking our communication. He was great at not paying for anything, and I was great at nagging. We should have never been together but at the same time if I never dated him, I wouldn’t know what not to do now. I’m not saying that we didn’t have our good times but they are hard to remember over the explosion of a break up that we had.

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Nearing the start of my senior year, I started truly having faith in God. As that started happening, I was also starting to feel convicted of the choices I made and the relationship I chose to be in. I knew that I needed to break things off with him but I felt like I needed him. I was terrified of being alone and after all he was my best friend. So I waited to see if he would find God with me, and he didn’t. I was being pulled in by desire and lust. I needed to break up with him and I knew that if I did it in person, he would have changed my mind. So I called him, I told him that I couldn’t do this anymore. That the relationship wasn’t good for either of us. That God wanted me to move on and heal things that were there even before he came along. I couldn’t rely on him to make me feel whole anymore. He cried, I cried. We parted ways. Then I started freaking out at the realization that I had no one. So I text him and ask him to take me back. Not because I loved him, because I need him as my crutch. He then begins to tell me that I was a horrible girlfriend. He continued to tell me nasty things that he thought and his friends thought about me. I hear that, given the opportunity, he will tell others about how terrible I am and also about the things that we had done sexually together. Sometimes exaggerated.

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I have grown to ignore what others tell me about what he says. I know I am not whatever person I was in 2014. I will continue to grow and look to my future. I now can be alone with out the despair and the thirst that comes with single life. I don’t have to date the first, second, or third person who asks me out. I am sustained in my faith of the Lord instead of failing to fill myself with the love of a man. There is nothing that he or anyone else can do to change that. I am proud that I am being prepared for my next relationship. Even if my ex keeps intruding into my families life and my life, I know that I don’t have to let that destroy me. My past doesn’t have a hold on me anymore. I have a long journey ahead but I have a choice whether or not I will let my past will effect it or not.

This means that anyone who belongs to Christ has become a new person. The old life is gone; a new life has begun!

~2 Corinthians 5:17~

P.S.~ I want to thank my ex, if he is reading this, for helping one of my relatives move. We aren’t talking for a reason and you still helped out my family. Thank you for stepping up like that and putting whatever feelings you have for me aside to help out. I was not able to help due to my many illnesses, so thank you.

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Uncategorized

False Negatives

d6cc4f19baebd07bb8719ef1108a629eIt’s not about the gush of blood

flushing from my nose.

But about the burst freed vein,

the plumbing that needs gutting.

 

The body that needs to be dissected,

torn into to be experienced.

To see the infected chest cartilage

suffocating my lungs with salt.

 

The false negatives refusing

to expose her snapping discs.

The ankles filled

with yesterday’s mistakes.

 

Breasts constantly being cut into,

Stabbed, leaving only stretch marks.

Ovaries with homemade bombs

playing minefield with the future.

 

You’re going to need to cut me,

split me to find my guilt.

Study my insides for truth

but if not death, take it at my word.

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Uncategorized

Today

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I don’t feel joy when my fear controls me. I also am conscience and aware when I am afraid and of what I am afraid of. I am also aware that there is a difference between fear and anxiety. Right now I am anxious. So much so that I’m shivering and my stomach is clenching. It’s because I finally told the truth to my best friend about how I truly feel about her boyfriend (lets call him B). See I have known her and B since high school. Which means we have history. Their story mostly consists of falling in love, being insecure, and the drama that separates them. With B and I, well, that’s much more complex. I was the subject that separated them. I was the drama, according to him. Of course I’m not perfect, I probably was acting like a typical teen. But what my family and I remember, was beyond teenage naivety.

It was Junior year and it’s lunch time. We are all crowded around this little corner of a table talking and eating. Then the jokes start, “What’s the difference between a pizza and a Jew? Pizzas don’t scream in the oven.” The jokes ranged from racist to murderous. I couldn’t hear anymore so I asked B and his friend to stop. Why? I am Jewish by blood and was raised in my roots. History is a huge part of why we take pride in our bloodlines. That and it’s just wrong. So after asking them to stop, they were so confused on why it was such a big deal. Yet, we still moved on but grudges were held.

One day in physics, B and I are messaging on our school IPads like amazing students. I know that my Bestie is feeling insecure in her relationship with him and is scared he is going to dump her. So I, stupidly, ask him if something was going on. He tells me all these important things and then tells me that he’s not going to tell my best friend. Then swears me to secrecy. I think about it for the rest of my day and decided to show her our messages anyway. She reads them and went straight to him to talk about it. Cats out of the bag! So after that B was livid with me. That’s where things got bad.

B was a very vengeful person. If you hurt him, he would get at you 10x harder. So he used his German heritage to bully me into being afraid of him. The jokes continued and got much ruder. Then he threatened me over the phone, which ended with his parents telling my mom that I was being over dramatic and they were sick of me. He would do the hail Hilter salute and march around when he would see me and one day he wore a Nazi uniform and did it. I don’t remember how I reacted to these things, but I do remember how it ended. B made my friend choose, be a girlfriend to him or be a friend to me. She refused to give him an answer so he made it for her. That’s how me and her are still friends today.

Speaking of today, she started dating him again and it has been a month or two. Why is she back with the guy that bullied her best friend you ask? Because she wants to be is the truthful answer. After he kissed her she came to me and asked me if I was okay with them dating. I didn’t think that I really had a say in who she wanted to date. But, I told her my opinion of him and she didn’t take it well. With anger in her voice she says that he was different and that I should give him a second chance. I realize that she didn’t just want my approval she wanted me to be friends with him again. So I gave the second chance for my best friend, as long as he apologizes. I see him for the first time since graduating and I turn back into that terrified 17 year old girl. Not only that, I also take “We both did things in high school. It’s over now and in the past.” as an apology and let my best friend leave me alone with him and his friend during the whole time.

So time goes on and I start spending time with her and the boys. Which proves to be a mistake. I try to explain to them that I am disabled and in response was told that I am not disabled I am just a hypochondriac. Which brought up old wounds for me and even after trying to explain, I still ended up in my bed balling my eyes out. I was back in high school where the two boys said what they wanted, how they wanted and they were the ones that were in the right. They aren’t open to other ideals or beliefs. And now her boyfriend and his friend believe that if Hitler wasn’t stopped, it would have been great for technology. He believes that if he died and someone took his place, it would have been better. The dying would have stopped and technology would be great. He would have been okay waiting 20 more years for that to happen. 20 years of Hitler. and it’s a big If on the probability of that actually happening. People who condone genocide terrify me.

None of these things are hidden from my best friend and she has argued with him about these things. She has even tried to stop the fighting between us when I brought up white privilege and it didn’t go over well with one of the heterosexual white males. But it hasn’t stopped me from crying multiple times, the drama from the past/present, and the stress I have with this constant struggle. In the end, I have conceded because “He really didn’t mean it like that.” This is all just from this four person group and I have so many other things in my life.

So today, after a month or two of trying to “concede,” I still don’t like being around them. I am still being jabbed by them every time they speak to me. Today I told my best friend that I gave her boyfriend and his friend a chance and I don’t like them. Today she said I ruined everything. But today I realized that I was honest with her and my friend still chose him and she still would have chose him. Not only did she choose him, but she threw me under a bus so that she could have everything that she wanted instead of taking my honesty at its value and respecting it. And I let her do it to me, up until today.

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