I've been on a journey for healing since January 2021. I still read the journal entry. I must have been crying as I wrote my testament to the universe because the page was wrinkly. It was the first time I prayed for healing. Before I selfishly prayed for a direct answer or a way out.. I always thought how unlucky I was. A year into this journey and I still feel lost some days. But I know more about myself now than I did a year ago. I love and respect my story so much deeper now. The hardest part of my days used to be looking in the mirror. I remember seeing my grandma's heartache when I would cover my mirrors for days. I saw how much it hurt my little sisters when I crumbled. Some days I still do crumble. Feeling empty, helpless and unlovable. Some days depression does win. But then I think about the image of all of my siblings, draped in black watching my body be lowered in the ground.... I guess that's another part of my healing. Coming to terms with just how suicidal I am. How that's not okay. How if I don't fight it I will lose. Losing. I guess that's the root of it all. We're all afraid of losing something. Whether it be a person, a job, a feeling.... we all have to know, in order to experience loss. And that's where I found my answer. The simple things... some days I need a drive or a funny video or a really cold glass of wine. I guess I needed something worth losing in order to not want to die anymore. Who could've guessed it would be me ?
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I've been on a three month hiatus from who I used to be.
The crying, always the victim, could never be alone persona. I don't even know who she is anymore. I took a break from trying to plan everything. Cause I've been wrong, at most turns and I'm okay with that. I needed that break, but now that the high is gone and I'm alone in my room again.. I start to think who am I. I no longer feel comfortable around many of the people I love, my bed seems more enticing than most places. I yearn to leave. I guess my path to spirituality has bought me back to the place I know the most..... loneliness. She doesn't feel like my enemy this time, she's not suffocating and berating me. She's hugging me gently saying "you need this time, they just don't get you". It's true. I used to think people didn't understand me before, but they did. They just never really cared to address it. Me being sad was never a problem because they knew my loneliness would force me there. But the person I am now ? After this hiatus ? Hello... it's time to meet me again. My name is Precious and I don't need you. I've always been really bad at getting my feelings hurt.
You know those people in the movie who start getting teary eyed before the line is even finished. I'm that girl. Always so easily overwhelmed. Tired. But still so ever loving. My friends always have an easier time when it comes to things like this; at least they make it look more graceful than I do. I guess because everything feels like a stab. Like a movie or a nightmare. I always say "Precious you have to stop giving your heart away" But I just can't ever stop loving. I always say I'm done and then I meet someone else with stars in their eyes and then there it is. I'm caught. Stuck in a web.... usually made of lies. But some way my heart always says "this time is different" While my mind screams "It will never be different, run now". I was never really good at running anyway. Unless I'm running straight into insanity, the wrong option... straight into the wrong lover's arms. But somehow... some way.... I always find a little bit of myself in the arms of a person who doesn't give a fuck about me. Almost feels like flying. Many times throughout my short life I've asked myself the question "Why am I not good enough?". Three days ago I sat in the shower letting the hot water pelt my skin as tears uncontrollably created a waterfall on my face. I was vulnerable again, picking at my own insecurities. How could you be so naive ? Did you really believe all that bullshit ? Did you eat it up and now you can't handle having to throw it up ? She was right. She was right. You are so fucking stupid.
This continued for 30 minutes, just mentally yelling at myself for falling short. Because it seems that's what I always do.... fall short. Once again I overvalued someone who saw no value in me. Once again I believed sweet bullshit from a stranger. Cause that's who everyone is who broke my heart, a complete stranger, to me. Because that isn't the person I spent time with, that isn't the person I saw in my dreams and it isn't the person I'd dreamed of being with. I need to stop developing feelings for strangers, I need to stop believing that people are real friends.. I need to stop breaking my own heart. This piece is for the girls who haven't been good enough or at least they felt that way. The girls who cry in their car after a bad day because they know they have no one to call. The girls who cling onto a lover whom they know will leave, because they just don't want to be alone. To the girls who have had their heart broken by a boy who didn't see the magic in you. You are superheroes and you are invincible. Do not let heartbreak turn you hard. Like Beyonce said, "you're just a boy". When someone hurts it is very easy to get angry or revengeful. It's easy to wish bad on the person and hope they only encounter the worst. But I've found a different way to channel my hurt. I refuse to be bitter. I refuse to let situations that were not for me, completely define my character. Yes, getting revenge may feel good temporarily but what did you really gain ? You need to have a good relationship with a woman named Karma. She is fair, beautiful and transcendental. There is no stopping Karma, she is a force. So why waste my time on being angry, when my bitch Karma is going to handle it ? I focus on healing. I focus on my art. I travel. I meet new people, I cut all my hair off. I cry until my cheeks burn or I walk for hours in the brittle cold. But... I will not be bitter. You have to admit your responsibility. Chances are that before this person hurt you, there were some red flags, that we tend to ignore (ladies I am talking to you). We ignore the signs because they don't work in our favor. I've learned that life isn't about what I want, it's about what the universe has already decided for me.
Secondly, throw out the idea of "closure". It's something that simply does not exist. Someone explaining why they hurt you will not heal you; it's like pouring salt on an open wound. So how did I get through two (horrible) break ups ? I found God. I talked to Him. I loved Him. I cried to Him. Not everyone needs religion but we need someone to cry out too. Even if it is your dog or a flower, you need to talk. Vocalize your hurt, stand in your hurt, but do not let your hurt make you ugly. I think the most important thing I can say is: stop trying to cheat in your own race. Life is not about getting ahead or trying to be better than everyone else, it's about being the best you that you can be. It means going at your pace, taking your time and always living in your truth. When you live in your truth, you cannot be bitter. Bitterness involves some aspect of denial; if you are living in your truth there is no room for denial. Stop listening to people. Stop letting people tell you how you should heal, take YOUR time, because it's yours. Do not let others define you. Do not let others tell you who you are. You also don't have to tell people who you are, because the beautiful part of being twenty is that chances are... you don't owe anyone shit. You don't owe them an explanation or a biography. Live for you, completely. When I was nine years old my life changed. There was nothing I could do to change it. I went through it a million times in my brain. I was never the same.
One night a week before halloween when I was eleven years old, my life changed. Until I was sixteen I believed there was something I could do to change it. I went through it a trillion times, saying "never again". On January 1st, 2014, full of anti-depressants and new found hope I woke up at 4 pm on a Saturday evening. I laid out my outfit, a leather skirt and a crop top that showed off my new belly button piercing. After a hot shower and a long pep talk I got dressed, put on pink lipstick and a fake gold necklace. I still remember how beautiful I thought I looked; my body was tight, my breasts perky and my bottom looking perfect. I attracted the devil that night. It took me three years to escape. One night at a close friend's house when I was 18 I smoked until I could feel the clouds. I laughed until I cried and laid down. I sat it in silence and felt the creeping body towards me. He told me to relax and I felt eleven years old again. I sat there and let it happen, all I could think was "how did this happen again". When I was 19 years old I met my second devil. This time it wore green eyes and a monotone voice. I willingly handed over the one last piece of me I controlled; the last piece of the puzzle of womanhood. I still don't know if I made a mistake. At 20 years old I am still healing from the many scars of adolescence. At 20 years old I only know a fraction of what love isn't. At 20 I still write poetry about my trauma and try to grow roses in the parts of me that have died. To the many versions of myself, to the many girls who were once me and are now lost in the sea of adulthood and hurt. I am still trying to know me. I am still trying to grasp with the reflection in the mirror. Sometimes I cannot believe the hurt I have been through; sometimes I cannot believe the stories I have to share; the stories that made me into the poem that I am. Abandonment, life-changing accident, surgery, mental illness, sexual assault, heartbreak, more heartbreak. I feel so old but I am so young. I am full of life even if some days I don't want to be. Hurt means something different to me. Hurt is revolutionary. This passage does not cover half of the hurt I have experienced in nearly 8,000 days of life. I guess I feel so disconnected is because people only know pieces of me. They only know the parts that I was willing to share; the parts I have processed and understood myself. I have not shared myself fully with anyone in three and half years. I leave encryptions in these writings, hoping that one day this will all make sense to someone, hopefully me. That one day I will understand why things hurt so deeply, why it's so hard for me to let go. Why I love people who do not love me. Why I love love even though it does not love me back. I get drunk off your lies.
Something about you makes me feel... desperate. Like I'm 16 again. Like I'm begging someone to love me again. You remind me so much of.. I think it's the how you don't give a fuck. About me. I mean, all the women I've ever loved were perfect examples of how I only satisfy temporary needs. But I'll never be necessary. You remind me of that. You treat me like nothing, disregard my feelings and leave me on the edge of uncertainty. It feels like I can't exist if I'm not driving myself crazy over people who don't care. I can write novels about how I feel, about how those ... felt. But I won't. I'll stick to these poems, these rhymes, these code names. I think I was your secret. I plan on keeping it that way. You don't notice me.
But I notice you. I try to stop myself from looking at your page or watching your stories. But it's addictive, because it hurts so good. Some days I still wait for your message, knowing it is never coming. I don't know why you dropped me like I was nothing. But I don't think I want to know. Cause I still have this image of you in my head. watching you sleep. I can even recall what it felt like in your arms. I can remember what it felt like laying next to you, thinking "He isn't even gonna talk to me tomorrow". And I was right. But it scares me how right I was. Because everything felt so right but looking at you I knew it was gonna go wrong. So now you live in my head. I think of you in passing or when I see your pictures or when your song starts playing and I just wanna turn it the fuck off. But I can't. Because you aren't a monster. You probably aren't an ass. But I'm me. And everyone leaves me. High & dry. Hurt & damaged. I am cursed with a name like Precious and a life similar to hell. Constantly feeling for people who do not care if I'm alive or dead. Dreaming of people who don't dream of me. Yearning for something that is never fucking coming. Waiting for someone that doesn't see my value, to notice me. They say you should battle your demons in your 20's.
But mine is still alive and walking, she also gave birth to me. I have written about everyone who has broken my heart. Except my mother. My mother has never told me she loves me. When I say this simple fact I usually laugh, but not with heart. I revealed myself to my mother last night. My mother only knows the version of me that everyone else does: a cynical, goofy asshole. But yesterday I showed her me. She texted me back "I love you Lucy" and my stomach dropped as hot tears rushed down my face. Because I know she didn't mean it. She said it in the way all my past lovers have said it, to shut me up. She didn't say she loved me because she loved me. She said it because she felt like she had too. I think I have a permanent crack in my heart. Mother I just wish you loved me. Maybe if you did, I wouldn't be searching for it. Maybe if you did, dealing with my illness would be so much easier. Mother I just wish you saw how much I've been suffering. All these heartbreaks feel like death and I think its because I failed again. I couldn't get you to love me and I can't get anyone else to do it either. Without your love I've been accepting whatever is offered. You were the first person to break my heart and it's been getting shattered periodically ever since. Mother if I wasn't enough for you, who will I be enough for. I always heard stories about how much you change during your 20s, how these prime years are going to feel like hell but flourishing is a result.
Why did everyone forget to mention how lonely it is ? For someone like me. For the girls that don't fit the mold, for the girls who are looked over, ignored and barely seen as human. Why did no one warn me I would spend more days crying than laughing ? Or that the hole in my chest I've had since my parents abandoned me, would begin to ache ? I always felt empty but now the emptiness has formed into an entity that constantly aches inside of me. I don't even cry the same. When I cry it feels like someone is stabbing me and I end up asking God to end it all. But what if I'm speaking to no one ? What if there isn't anyone up there and I'm just bones and water wailing every night to the sky to fucking kill me. I think, in my generation, being in your 20s is pretending like everything is okay even when it isn't. Pretending that being ignored doesn't hurt. Pretending that being alone is fun. Pretending that being a piece of shit is revolutionary. But I kinda want to do my 20somethings different. I wanna feel this shit. Even if it kills me. Even if the aching in my chest never stops. At 19 I was asking God for strength, one year later and I am convinced I can't do it. So this 20somethings page just isn't for me, it's for you. It's for the girls who wake up and go about life with a straight face. For the men who feel so much but say so little. For the girls who are hurting inside and use drugs and alcohol to fill the void. For the guys and girls who believe sex is the only way to feel okay. I hear you, I see you. Don't let these 20somethings kill you. |
From PreciousThis is for you. and you. and you. |