Admitting that loneliness haunts me is like asking me to be naked in public. I survive off likes from witty Facebook statuses and the “ping!” when I get a new message. On the outside, I’m fine. I am a funny, amazing, and kind young woman who is starting to find her place in society. People generally like me and don’t hesitate to tell me when I’m feeling down.

Offline, like many others, I am isolated. The more time I spend alone, the more I realize just how codependent I am. I need approval. I need to feel validated and welcome in a space. I don’t have confidence in my abilities. I often abandon projects that I have just started because no one liked the status enough on Facebook.

I have a craving to be well-liked and admired. One of my favorite hobbies is to put on my headphones, lock the door and pretend that I am a pop star. I’ve always wanted to experience the rush of performing in a two-hour concert. This deep desire probably manifested itself into the theatre degree that I told myself was for ministry in 2015.

Whether I like it or not, I am codependent.

I lose myself in the desire to be valued by others. I’ll do anything to build myself a community in which I feel like the star, or at least important enough to feel secure in any friendship or relationship I have. I often question my rank of importance to people. As a child, I had to prove to other children that I was good enough to be friends with. If anyone needed anything, I would give it to them. My toys, food, or money; it didn't matter because I was rewarded with the coveted title of "Friend".

Now, I find myself lusting after unhealthy relationships just because the people in it aren't alone. These types of relationships are obsessive and stifling. Yet, the people in them are wanted and are rarely rejected. It seems like a better trade-off than triple texting someone hoping that one of the things you said is worthy of responding to. An unhealthy relationship seems ideal when you can ask for sex and have it readily available instead of going back to PornHub and wishing I was one of the girls getting lovingly pleasured by a partner I'm convinced I'll never have.

Settling seems ideal.

I don't have a better ending to this. In fact, I wouldn't want to tie this up neatly in a bow. Today, I am lonely. And it sucks.

‘Each ending is a brand new beginning’ the billboard read. ‘honestly you’d think there’s a limit to the saccharine-sweet goodness people have the audacity to make up.’ Shelly cried out in dismay to the empty street and paused for an answer. Endings aren’t exciting, jubilant and triumphant beginnings, they’re merely a substantial form of an escapist reality. A way to find shelter. A way to hide from mind-numbing monotony. Sometimes, endings are just inevitable, they need to happen for everyone to move on, for everyone to escape from the carcass of an incomprehensible wreckage.

Shelly trudged on, it was raining and the water droplets fell in an elegant harmony that felt like a stained-glass picture of intense perfection. The only thing that marred it's beauty was the street filled with dirt, worn bags and rubbish. Shelly could ignore it on most days. She could pretend to be at home, with three children, a husband and a dog. But not today. Today was different. It felt bitterly painful and she desperately wanted it to end. Today felt like a sudden note of finality in her dreary life, like a triumphant end to all the obstacles she encountered in life, all the problems, all the failures and all the endings.

She wanted to go to see river Thames, the river that was home to a distant nostalgia that Shelly cherished. Before everything fell apart and all her emerald dreams faded to grey ashes she had gone there with her family. She had been there only once, in her childhood, and as a result Shelly had no memory of it but she knew that the water must be beautiful. She decided to do it and to finish the journey and complete it, once and for all. She wanted to end the constant suffering, the wretched loneliness and the stifling sorrow.

Shelly walked along the dirty, polluted and filthy street. She lived here. But in her mind she lived in a nice house, with her three kids, a husband and her dog. Oh, the fantasy of it all was not just achingly perfect but had become her only means of keeping sane. They all would be happy, they’d be a brand of exclusively cheerful optimists, ones who believed that each ending was a brand new beginning. And most importantly they all would go and see the river at every weekend. It would be a trip they all lived for and cherished.

The rain made it hard to see and the decreased visibility annoyed Shelly. She still ploughed on though, and she knew that she would get there soon. The river was easy enough to locate as every signpost led her to it. Shelly walked alone, but she wasn’t lonely though, in her head she was surrounded by her family. They all laughed at the comforting normality of their lives and found meaningful solace in each other. Suddenly she was brought back to earth by the sound of chocked sobs, and looking around she saw a young girl. Shelly felt a stab of sympathy but decided to move on. She had to go to the river, she couldn’t let her past down. Shelly walked on with strengthened resolve but haltered when the crying girl met her eye.

For a moment she forgot about everything. Instead Shelly remembered how she had been just like that girl. Left alone to fend for herself at sixteen, after her aunt threw her out. The clichéd stories are often the most personally terrifying. No one stood by her. Shelly had also once sat down and cried, comforted only by empty streets, whispering winds and gallant cobblestones.

‘But now it was going to change’ Shelly thought. she would go to the river. She would look back at her glorious past, and would be surrounded by a vista of memories and her old self, one not marred by harshly cruel realities, would come back to her. Shelly wanted to escape from everything. She wanted to end the constant stream of sorrow and dismay that had encaged her and engulfed her since the day she was welcomed by the streets.

Shelly took a final turn. There it was! The river looked hauntingly picturesque and welcomed her with open arms, Shelly could almost hear the happy laughter of her children beckon to her as she walked towards the river. She felt transfixed by its beauty and climbed up the railings. Shelly looked down as her old self smiled back at her. The river was a beautifully perfect end. She felt nervously excited and eternally hopeful as she smiled and took it all in. This was a world she belonged to, away from worn out streets and a sense of conflicting despair that, no matter what, would never cease. But this was perfect! This was a brand new beginning filled with glory and warmth! Shelly smiled took the leap as her heart filled with awe and hope. Each ending really was a brand new beginning.

Hands smacked against my back, striking red-hot where my scars had barely healed. I could feel the blood running down in little streams, down my legs, forming a grotesque puddle below.

The man behind me moaned and dropped me on the floor. I didn't even remember his face. The gravel on the ground, dug into my back, embedding themselves deep inside.

He threw money at my feet; a measly amount, barely enough to feed my family for a day. I gazed at the brick wall in front of me, its surface worn by constant use.

I couldn't do this anymore. It was too much.

I was a mere shell of myself. What was the point of existence if I had to sell my body? My muscles had wasted away, my belly had become hollow from starvation. Who was I?

In a daze, I got up and left the dingy alley that always appeared in my worst nightmares. I could feel people staring at my back, the scars, the pain written in them, but no one helped.

They never did.

Dropping the money next to my mom on the ground where she laid, I observed her sickly-red lipstick and the black substance gathering at the corner of her lips. My love for her had shrivelled and turned bitter.

I walked away from her, heading towards the bridge, my happy place.

But that didn't offer much happiness anymore either.

I climbed over the bridge and stood at the edge, gazing down into the water. Heavy grey waves crashed into the stones below, making me smile.

I had tried to be as resilient as the stones, but I had failed. My tears had dried up, my pain had numbed; I spent my days wide-eyed and uncaring.

I stepped closer towards the edge and jumped off, the water rushing up to meet me.

I had always wanted to know what flying felt like.

i dream of nothingness— 

visceral tongues pressing into my skin

they say the streets are mean

meatloaf catastrophes

a bag of green, a bag of bones

a world infested with 

intravenous sleep and pocket change

i have made love to diseases

camping in my chest

overstaying their welcome in

this pigsty of rats

they say we live in godless times

filth encasing pretty pavements

perhaps i like my crispy crystals

far too much

they kiss the enamel of my teeth

the caverns of my nose

the blood of my streams

exhaustion settles in my bones

weary, weary me 

all that glistens is my needle

in this haystack of degenerate limbs

there is no heaven in these ugly skies

no heaven for sinners like us

we, the children of a lesser god

--

#poetry #poems #poem #poet #drugs #addiction #homelessness #streets #drugaddiction #depression #substanceabuse #abuse

The voice dripped down into my ears...

"Really? You can't do it? ..

Come on child, give it a try.

I promise to be with you,..

Except the last step..."

Like a snake

You preyed upon

My innocence

Sunk your fangs

Into my

Virgin skin

Poisoned my purity

I can never

Go back to

Being so naive

You stole a

Carefree childhood

From me

Singleness is supposed to be a gift. It’s an unwanted gift. So many people cannot bear the thought of being alone or not experiencing a great night of sex at least once a month. I have never been in a relationship. I’m 27. There’s no one that seems to be interested in me enough that 1: they want to pursue a relationship with me and 2: I want to pursue a relationship with them.

I was on Tinder for shits and giggles once in 2018.

I mostly swiped left. The men on there weren’t appealing or interesting enough for me to want to swipe right. There were so many “Bros” and “Real Niggas” in my area that my vagina immediately clamped shut and I feared I would never be able to wear a tampon again. There were men I did swipe right on and they were matches! I just didn’t feel the need to talk to them.

One night, I was swiping in the kitchen as usual and I swiped right on a sweaty, red-haired guy who was playing a tenor saxophone. He made a self-deprecating joke in bio. his and I laughed audibly. He deserved a right swipe. We matched.

This guy messaged me not even a minute later. Our banter was fine. Talking to him was fine. I knew I had a wall up because I had (okay, still have) such high standards for men. I was expecting a spark. I wanted to be excited that he texted me. I wasn’t. I was at first, but then I wasn’t. I ghosted him.

Later that year, I came out as bisexual. Truthfully, there was some weird, one-sided slow burn crush on my best friend that left me inexplicably crushed. I had only realized after she had gotten a boyfriend that I loved her. We played around, hung out way too much, confided in each other and eventually pleasured each other. That little heaven (and unrequited, dishonest hell) lasted for a year before it fell apart. I fought for whatever it was that I thought I wanted from her. I subconsciously fought to be the one she loved most.

I was at a party in October 2019. I was pretty wasted and saw this cute girl. It was a compliment that I meant, “You’re so pretty! Can I hug you?” She hugged me, I cried on someone and I went home. November, I was in the ER after losing too much blood while on my cycle and was stuck there. I posted my misfortunes and she messaged me for hours. I felt so wanted. I loved it. I loved getting to know her. Things have slowed down. She has a promotion at work and is busy most days. I realized things may have changed when I sent her a sappy song and got swerved by omission. Understandably, this is not the time to want to be romanced. Yet, I was devastated. Somehow I still hold out hope when I know it’s not happening.

Yet, hope keeps me from being bitter. It helps me believe that I am worthy of love and that one day I will find someone who wants me and actually will be with me. Singleness is an unwanted gift. But maybe it's necessary. I want love, but there are so many parts of myself that I can't love. I can't expect to be loved if I don't know how to love myself. What would I want? I am tired of falling for the initial spark without realizing where this could or want to go. So, my singleness sucks. And it's a wake-up call. I have so many things to work on. So, no cuddles tonight but I can face my need to control everything. I'll be okay.