Tag: essays

ransom

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11-30-21

Tell me. What is your price? Do you ask money or words? Is it groveling, a debt of language and power, or compensation for the extra monetary burden my existence in the world and my stumbling about in it has placed on you?

I first thought it was a password you sought, always tried to find exactly the right words, kept searching when you lashed out. No entry.

But there are no right words. Only wrong ones. And trying to repay my imagined debt in apologies only deepens the divide between us. Makes me feel smaller and you feel farther away. But you tell me money isn’t the way out, could never be exchanged for a human life, is not the point, but continue to talk about it first with my heart in front of you, bleeding.

I’m done guessing, so tell me, what price do I need to pay to be free.

women talking 2

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We think of ourselves, our goals, as climbing mountains. The fallacy of this is there are always taller mountains to climb, we must always keep moving. Our progress, then, is more like the ocean, or any body of water, in its constant movement slowly but surely eroding the rock benath it, creating new shapes and softening old.

(I am allowed to talk in a pretensious way, a ‘male’ way/breifly i wonder, what will I amount to?/the anxiety overtakes me for a second)

women talking

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01/25/2023

what makes something cinematic…

and here i begin to doubt my own words

they falter because i stop believing in them as i create them

what make something cinematic is the artful manipulation of coincidence. the kind that rarely happens in real life and when it does, it feels magical. you feel as though you’ve seen something you should not have. a peak behind some universal curtain

“what follows is an act of female imagination” – Women Talking

we wrest the narrative from our attackers hands

why?

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always ready

what am i hoping to no longer be in pain for? what fear fuels me now?

two facets:

  1. i need to get back up so you can knock me down again, I need to ability to withstand, to continue to withstand, this one is rooted in the past
  2. i want to enjoy life, the tightening in my neck impedes me, rooted in past and present

a contradiction, a paradox: to enjoy the moment, you must release the desire to create a perfect one

how do we deal with our changing opinions of others? am I still hedging against my fear of being hurt

I speak in generalities now, specifics elude me. so much fear surrounds them. baseless fear, I believe.

  1. being in pain sucks.

ya dig?

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We all deserve a chance to be scared, don’t we Victor?

Do you remember the next part Victor?

I do, I did it on my own, and it felt good.

And one day, the whole of the world realigned so two little twinks could fall in love

No, it didn’t happen over night. It felt like it would because everything changed so fast that summer, but it took those two little twinks two years to realize how they really felt about each other.

Thank god, some words that finally feel normal.

-You are my best thing, Victor, but you’re not my only good thing, and it want that to me true for you too.

So yeah, my grandfather was the missing beat king, a little German twink named Victor Löwen

“I can be myself now finally”

And if it feels true, maybe that’s because it is.

Maybe that’s because you don’t own truth anymore. We do now it’s our turn, so shut the fuck up and listen, you dig?

-One breath at a time, Soph, you got this. It’ll all work out. Keep saying it, because the more times you say it, the truer it is.

I don’t want to be invisible anymore

See, now I’m sure of it. Death doesn’t happen after life, it happens before. We all start out dead and must crawl our way back to the living.

Ghosts, gods, myths, legends? Well, we’ve all just been around the time spiral a few more times.

clean it up ya self

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5/19/2024

I’m feeling a bit high octane today. All these past lives bouncing around my head. Everything making so much sense all at once. Sent me into a tailspin.

I can see where all this is going, yes, and it’s much better than anything I’ve had before. But that doesn’t mean I don’t feel absolutely mad half the time for having all these thoughts I was never allowed to have.

You see, I was raised to believe the whole world was unsafe dangerous shrouded in a cave of grief almost since the moment of my birth.

I could tell you more, but for now I think I need to take a breath, get grounded.

You see the tailspin didn’t start now, the spinning I’ve been doing all my life has been to spin this world into focus and make it make sense again.

I try to be gracious because I know all life is precious that every moment matters, but I’m angry, angry at the situation I was forced into. Angry at all the silence surrounding the secrets that would define my entire life.

I’m done. I’m done living others lives for them. Always happy to help a fellow time agent and all that, but when will I get a chance to live my own life, where did we budget that into the timeline?

Because knocking at the back door of my brain is all the fear and loathing, all the shame and guilt. Every time someone said I was crazy or blamed me for the mess that is my life.

You see, I’m tired of living life on other peoples timelines. cleaning up their messes.

the reality

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11-29-21

“I loose touch with reality often”

It’s a question on psychological inventories, the intake form, the one they ask me to retake each new therapist’s appointment.

I mark it high.

It scares me. This slipping away. This unmooring from the physical world around me. In favor of my ever deep internal world.

But why is this – this nebulous emotional world – not reality as well? Am I dreaming without my knowllege or consent? Maybe the real problem, the real pathology, is that I let others define my reality, draw these subjective lines for me.

“I often let others define my reality for me”

Ask me that question. Be concerned if I mark it high.