my vagina monologue

I want to stay home.
In a way hidden and still not quite safe.
But where the sense of safety is just enough to help me fall asleep.

Truth is – I am tired.
I am tired of the silent tension in my body keeping vigilant in the dark alleys of the city running through my veins. A tension I am supposedly used to and yet tonight I want to be where I can breathe a little deeper – a little slower.

I would like to fill both my ears with music and drown in the emotions that flow from it. I do not want to have one ear keep on alert… just in case.
I don’t want to worry about the alcohol I consume in my neighborhood in the bars I deemed safe and yet having it somehow misunderstood.

I guess I am tired – of the constant ways of womanhood.
Every dream destination mixed with gentle waves of fear of what may happen if I were to be alone. Desiring the false sense of safety from being with a man – who hold the power to alter my breathing from ease to gasping in the blink of an eye.

I seek stability and shelter in a place truly safe.
I seek a time where I can break down and let the pain pour without judgment or responsibilities. All seems too much to ask. Too much to attain.

So I wrap my arms around the small frame of my body.
I caress it with whispers and chants of words it deserves to hear.
That I am great.
That I am strong.
That it is okay to be simultaneously so fragile.
That ultimately I am enough.
And that I am loved – most importantly by the two arms holding it close.

So excuse my weary smiles that drop the moment your back is turned.
Excuse my early exits and goodbyes.
I want to be home.
Somewhere hidden and yet not quite truly safe.

burn

turns out i am not built for casual.
i was born to be fire to burn bright into the night
i was born to be the ocean and dive in head first
i was meant for what i crave and what i crave is depth
something deep and real – life changing – no matter the outcome
i live for something meaningful that can alter my mind at its core
something so detrimentally special it breaks the soul when lost.
what i want isn’t occasional hellos and meet ups
what i want is late night conversations with a ear that listens
a heart that dares to beat harder when my head lies upon it.
a breathing living being who – despite it all wants to try again – with all the tears and the fears we dare stand naked before one another two beings having the courage to strip it down and still choose to stay – choose to try – choose to be.

turns out i am not built for casual.
enough pretending.
what i want is not this .
why lie to myself – i am fire. always been.
they tell me to be with water to balance it out
that i need a stabilizer.

why not let me dance and burn brighter with another flame just as bright, just as fierce, just as intense?
let me get carried away to somewhere new with some wild wind
let me bring heat to the very earth i stand upon and bring it life.

why must i be tamed?
if i want to love someone let me be
let my love pour out onto the streets and wash away the dirt
let my soul soar like a hot air balloon decorating the sky with more colors and hope.
for i know my love is unforgettable my love changes people and my love lingers and lives on within those i have chosen long after our backs have turned.

no.
turns out i am not built for casual.
be with me.
bleed in front of me.
dive into the unknown with me.
for i will be there with you.
and together we shall be all that we ever craved to be.

The Return of Insomnia

My days filled up with smiles which subsided with memories I had forgotten resurfacing – into visions and emotions – dancing before my eyes.

That’s how insomnia came back. that cunt.

I remember the walk in the night. The time back when I didn’t know what you were capable of. The time when I was safe in your arms. We played a game – a trust game – that I made up on the spot. Eyes closed walking in public with only each other’s voice to guide us the way. Do you remember? We laughed so much then.

It all came back to me – the roses on the sidewalk and all the wide open spaces. Even the texture of your hand with its fingers intertwined in mine. And with it you were there. I could smell your skin. I could.

Then my mind skipped to the cabin in the woods. The one we planned to rent out when I return. The beautiful place where you swayed midair like Tarzan and horses roamed about. I was to come back and ride them. One day. Soon.

But soon came and gone. We live in the future where you are not to be found.
Today you were supposed to awake beside me in my bed – holding me the way you used to – making me feel the way I used to.

Now everything is a little darker and behind the genuine excitement of the future lingers the emptiness. Hollowed and haunted so I am left.

Love is like that I guess.
It takes something from you.
It shall remain so for as long as my mind shall remember.
If I could, I would. delete. you.
And yet here I am wide awake.
Nights filled with unwanted memories of days past.
sleepless.

Fuck depression

Watch me swing my middle finger as I get shit done.
Got another paper in my pocket, checked off another item from shit-to-do.
Never get my tears twisted – I still get shit done, did, had.

I break down in the privacy of this realm of the mind dumping ground I created where I scream them tainted names and pull out the rotten blood out of my throat.

But that is what this place is for.
A dumping ground so I can stay focused on other shits in life.

I still live with a purpose – at times fleeting, at times shaky.
And so can you, so should you.
I clench my jaw hard at the thought of the wrongs done onto me, determined to not let my broken soul break my entire future. I am broken, sure. I am a mess, sure. I am not well, alright.
SO WHAT.

I have always lived a life of unchosen abuse, unwanted offense, uninvited people bringing cracks into the beauty that is my being. It’s alright. I have long surpassed the naivety expecting life to be just, fair and equal. Living is a blessing and a curse at the same time and the sooner we face facts the more we thrive. I know. This leads to people dismissing love, chasing money, all the while craving something real.

I still believe in love but not the kind I believed from childhood fairy tales.
I chase money but not to feed some ego but to be able to have the power to protect, provide, support the ones I love dearly.
I crave something real – always have – so I stay as real as it is humanly possible and some find it too real that they confuse its simplicity as a game.

Fuck depression.
Fuck heartbreak.
Fuck my past.
Fuck him.

I am a world of miracles that stand still ever so beautiful despite all the blood shed. I will still get up because there is no other way to live. I know I will never be able to erase it all – but I can digest it, you, all of the shit and shit you out.

Fuck it.
I will continue on with my middle finger swinging getting shit done.
Keep my miracles closer, hold it tighter, cling to self love and dignity.

You shall not be the end of my goodness.
You will be the proof of it.

Severed Ties.

I finally did it.
I severed it.
I cut it and deleted it.
I escaped it, I left it.
What was present and a potential future, I pushed it into history labeling it ‘the past’.
One last outcry before the end: I love you.

If there was one thing that was certain in our story it was this.
That I LOVED YOU.
Even if we delete everything off of the face of this earth, that shall remain.
This love will echo through the depth of the lonely night and haunt the rest of your days. It will fester and grow and spread into your very cells and take root inside that heart of yours. It will grow ever so slowly and so undeniably it will eventually take over and rip you into shreds – just like me.

I will walk away now knowing what lies ahead for you.
I will focus on breathing to cleanse this unforgivable pain.
I shall conquer it and learn to live again – even if living without love again.
Can’t say I will be stronger, can’t say I will grow from it, all I can say is that I will try to learn to live again without choking on the unbearable truth.

I don’t forgive now.
I won’t.
I DO NOT forgive.

Instead I sever you.
I cut you and delete you.
I escape you, I leave you.
You were my present and my potential future,
I push you into history labeling you, ‘the past’.
One last outcry before the end:
I love you.

TGIF

I find myself at home, in bed, trying to shake off bad thoughts..
I feel like going out, getting drunk, looking hot, and getting laid.
All I want right now is to say fuck it, fuck you, fuck him, just fuck me.
In my bed I sit trying to spit out yet another disappointment with a horror movie. Sometimes it does the trick – scare me straight.

Yesterday I saw he deleted the last photo remaining of us.
Today I was fed bullshit of how this guy was thinking about me wishing I was there while fucking some chick he met at a bar.
And like always I found the one I feel attracted to turn out a selfish cunt who can’t properly apologize before trying to place some kind of fault on me.

Men are shit.
All I want is their hard cock now.
Just fuck me once and get lost.
The pain is too real and it needs to get smashed into pieces on the daily.

Why am I here so fucked up when everybody else is living?
Why do I hustle so hard and lay in bed alone?
Why do I love only to be broken – then crave me some more hoping someone ought to be good out there?

WORDS ARE WORDS.
ACTIONS ARE WHATS REAL.

So are the words I type here.
These are silent screams of a malnourished soul punching in fantasies in the mind that we both know I would not live out in real life.

My words speak of fantastic hook-ups with random dicks.
My actions are opening a bottle of night time Nyquil and filling up a generous shot of it and some tequila – then soon enough – lights out.

The night and its mares

Self denial was the blanket that wrapped my body since that day.
Time would heal all because it had to. ‘What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger’ was the placebo I swallowed on the daily. Everything happens for a reason and everything will be alright being stuffed into my ears from the mouths of those close to me.

All in time, right?

But there aren’t enough placebos and positive quotes to truly free me from you.
You live in my memories. You breathe the air I do. You flow inside the very veins that give me nutrition.

So there you are.
In and out of the night in my mind’s eye. A ghost but not quite dead, a mirage but so real – cold sweats replace the denial in the darkness of the night.
Of all that has ever happened to me in this life, you. you…you.

Terrors in the night lead to tremors in the morning. Love, lament, exhaustion and disgust mixed into the cup of coffee in my hands – so begins my day. Then the phone buzzes – like clockwork – and there you are in living form on my screen.

Some traumatic events – I realize now – just change you forever.
Time won’t heal it. It just numbs and blurs – just enough to help you breathe better. I am changing and I do not know if it is for the better or for worse.

But I accept it now.
I am not fine.
And I need to be fine with that.

Law and Order True Crimes: The Menendez Case

I slept with a knife under my pillow at night.
I was sure he would bust in one day and kill us all.
I didn’t want to die – not like that.
The threat was real… as real as oxygen is needed to breathe.

Unless you have lived in a realm of ongoing abuse for decades….unless you have lived in fear of your own family… I suppose this may sound like exaggeration, a type of fabrication of a sick mind. This show is a trigger of a past I purposely made blurry so I could live and forget.

Today though I did make a revelation.
One that was already there below the surface but became clear.
My tendency to self-hate and to self-blame all boils down to this.
It was all my fault back then.
Every beating, every scream, every violent action he made was a fault of mine.

I should not have angered him.
I should have not opened my mouth.
I looked too defiant.
I should have known better.

His actions were described as something out of his control, something he didn’t decide to thrust upon and exercise but rather an involuntary reaction from us. We were trained and told to read between the lines. That despite it all it was all an expression of love – a sick one but love nonetheless. That he meant well, that he didn’t know any better, She made excuses on his behalf perhaps convince herself of why life was the way it was. We were to understand him. Never he to understand us. So it was. Just like this. No real communication just eruptions of uncontrollable anger. No real solutions just a repeat of a broken record replaying the hidden meanings of love behind the bruises.

I get it now.
How I came to be the way that I am.
I was trained to be this way.

no title

I am not prepared to let my beliefs be determined by my desires.

Tinder

Can we go back to the beginning? He said as his fingers swiped right on the screen.

I can stop the lies, he claimed as he injected another dose of anesthesia into my veins.

Can you stop this and trust me? He asked as his tongue filled my ears with lies

I do want be with you.
I stopped.
I love you.
I am a good person.
I am a good person.

Back and forth from me to another
Names switching
Apps changing
Blame me for his hesitation
While typing yet more lies designed to impress another

If I decide to get back together with you I have to commit, he said
I need time to think, he said

Somehow all the responsibility of my pain gently pushed towards me to deal with.
Friends messaging from around the world exposing more and more lies. And he still continues.

Why is it so hard for you to stop lying to me? I ask.
His answer another lie.
The kind not worth repeating.
The kind not worth remembering.