nothing is forever

~ and yet ~

you never fade

an i m a g i n a r y friend

who never said

“goodbye”

/i’m\so/lost\in/you\

i can’t find my way out

of your mazes

eyes

OPEN

or

>closed<

{it’s all the same}

the only thing that changes

1s/the/date

as my youth

b

l

e

e

d

s

a

w

a

y

you grow

STRONGER

》a shadow《

cast by bitter sunshine

f/i/l/t/e/r/i/n/g/ t/h/r/o/u/g/h/

the cracks of my prison

isn’t it time to let go?

but when people left

[when my world s h a t t e r e d ]

when time

》》sped up 》》

and left me far

b e h i n d

you stayed

》the same《

the taste of pain

should teach us happiness

but smiles hurt more

laughs steal the air from my lungs

leave me gasping for oxygen

as your waves close over my head

(i never learned to swim)

the mirror mocks me

: who I was :

[who I could be]

i can’t reconcile her,

//who I am\\

i’m scared of you

i’m scared of

me

i want to get away

but you would follow me

even in death

When I'm not feeling like myself, I disappear for a bit.

I don't leave a trace of my existence unless I have to,

Hoping that a few people will forget about me.

On the days you don't see a lot of me,

Those are the times that I'm just trying to breathe,

To find a little bit of life in this burnout body of mine.

The sunlight will filter through the worn curtains,

But it doesn't seem to reach me.

The music drifts from my long-discarded earbuds

But I don't register the lyrics, notes, or beat.

I'm numb to anything and everything around me,

Quiet and reduced to nothing but a shadow lingering in the dark.

I'm like that rock you brought home from the beach as a child.

You used to treasure it so much, love every rough and smooth edge.

But now, it stays hidden in the back of your drawer,

Only seeing the light when you decide to bring it out and look at it.

Not for fun, but for the nostalgia that it brings with it,

Crashing down on you like the waves of the sea,

Reminding you of your childhood days.

Reminding you of the times when I was still around.

I've had people tell me to just step forward when I want to retreat,

To smile when I want to frown,

To laugh when I want to cry,

But it's not that easy.

Be patient with me, I'm working on it.

I promise.

But on the days that I disappear, and don't leave a trace,

Leave me to be nothing more than a piece of dust,

Floating through the universe,

Unimportant and alone.

Because that

is how

I

f

e

e

l

it doesn't matter if i wasn't the reason you left;

i should've been the reason you stayed.

so, another shot at

happily ever after?

we'll never have that;

i'm not risking the hurt again.

so don't ask if we're okay,

we'll never be okay again.

to the time my dad asked what I did in rehab besides eat

look around with wide eyes and take in every body type

to the girl who cut her pizza into microscopic slivers & ate it with a fork and knife, her mouth a grim slit

plate full to the maximum calorie meal plan, her waif like appearance & avoidance of eye contact a palpable fear of gaining weight

to the slightly overweight middle school gym teacher who suffered from bulimia, almost never spoke up & had an air of complete defeat

they took me aside and asked about my fear foods, one of which was chocolate & I was presented with it later that day at lunch, horrified at how obvious it was

to the girl who modeled and danced, with eyes that shimmered with insecurity and false confidence, desperately trying to believe that she would be ok

I later learned she would go to rehab four more times and never recover

to the girl who also wouldn't eat the challenge food of potato chips on one Challenge Food Day. We were put in separate rooms and asked to eat one potato chip. It took us twenty minutes, but later she said to me: I did it because you did.

that young woman exercised so intensely that she permanently damaged her knee, wearing a brace, who referred to her eating disorder as Anna & gave her complete control over her life

years later I ran into that young woman at a coffee shop. we exchanged numbers & struck up a conversation we are still having about our bodies; our pain remains largely unspoken, but it is under the surface, the knowledge that eating will never be easy.

“It hurts so bad, Mama.”

“I know, baby. But you can’t let it break you. You have to be like that tree out yonder behind the big house. You’ve watched it during summer storms, ain’t you?”

“Yes, Mama.”

“You seen it bend almost so the top touches the ground, ain’t you?”

“Yes, Mama.”

“You ever seen the tree break, Georgia?”

“No, Mama.”

“An’ you ain’t gonna, girl. God made that tree so strong the wind can knock down every cabin in Laurens County, Georgia, but that tree still be standing there strong and tall, branches up sayin’ “howdy doo” like it twern’t nothin’ at all being knocked about like it was.”

“Yes, Mama.”

“Well, girl, you be that tree. Life is gonna blow more pain at you than you think you can bear. This here aint’ nothin’. You’ll see that one day. But no matter what, you don’t let nothin’ break you, girl. You bend till you think you can’t bend no more, but you never break. You be that tree. Keep poppin’ back up, just as beautiful, just as strong, no, stronger than you was. You hear me, chile’?”

“Yes, Mama. I hear ya.”

smile

chin up

make some friends

raise your voice

dress like her

flirt with him

eat like this

laugh at that

halfheartedly

trying

to

mold myself

into yet

another

plain face

in a crowd of

copycats

really

all i want is to be me.

but it’s not that easy.

to be myself, i must know who i am

who am i?

a question the mirror cannot answer

who am i?

i know the truth lies with my Creator

who am i?

My daughter, you are Mine.

And that is enough.

footnotes:

But now, this is what the Lord says—

He who created you, Jacob,

He who formed you, Israel:

“Do not fear, for I have redeemed you;

I have summoned you by name; you are Mine.”

Isaiah 43:1 NIV

I always struggle with identity. There are so many things with which we can identify, whether that is our friends or our clothes or our boyfriend/girlfriend, among many others. But I am slowly learning that when I identify with the One who created me and loves me despite how terrifyingly broken I am, that is when I truly find myself. I hope this encourages anyone who struggles with this too!!!

She’s beautiful

Her lips are like rose petals

So bright and perfect

Her eyes are like the ocean

So beautiful and blue

Her cheeks are like hills

Curved so perfectly

She’s every girls dream

But when she goes home...

...She wipes off the makeup

She sits down

And crys

it's not that easy.

it's a lot of work.

we'll fight.

you'll run away,

i'll chase after you.

if i do this, i'll

plunge into

the eye of the storm.

i think i'll try loving you anyway

"Smile!" they chirp, like I hadn't thought to. Like their use of the imperative will bring a sunny grin to my face. Internally, I tell them exactly what I think of them and their sentiments. I was having a good day. I was happy. But not glowingly exuberant enough for them, apparently. I tilt my head a little, ready to inform them that I just smile more quietly than some.

"Don't worry, that's just her thinking face."

My classmate is there before I have a chance to formulate a polite response, before I knew I needed her. I know her well for someone I've only known a few weeks; sometimes you meet people who instinctively understand your communication style. I shoot her what I think is a grateful look, although whether she gets the message is anybody's guess. I like to think that she feels my gratitude even if she doesn't pick up on the expression. She was fast enough to step in for me, after all. A simple sentence, saving me before I could ask. I'm sure it seemed a small enough gesture for her, but it meant a lot to me. I had gotten lost in the words, trying not to snap back about unrealistic societal pressures and false expectations of entitlement to constant exuberance rather than contentment or a biting comment about sexist expectations. Women, after all, are allowed to have bad days and bad moods too. And good moods? Shatter like glass when some pretentious busybody determines you lack exuberant joy. Forgive me for not radiating ecstatically like a bare lightbulb. I try, but even my friends take a while before they can read me. I just don't smile loudly. I put in effort, have been working hard at it for some time, but it's not that easy.

Don't you dare tell me to smile. Don't pretend that you are entitled to any sort of imput over how I emote. Communication, perhaps, if I need to change something so we understand one another more clearly, but never in a million years do you have any right to determine how I may express myself. I don't comment on your double chin, your disorganization, your habit of standing too close to read over students' shoulders. So take your pretention and transform it into compassion, if you know how. If not, keep it to yourself. It's not that simple for all of us. Everybody does the best they can, but even Einstein could recognize that everybody was good at different things. Quit trying to tell me that success is one thing, that everybody should smile the same, that even fish should be able to climb that particular tree. Forget your tree, forget your petty self-centered view of the world, forget your idea of "happy". Your happy is not my happy, your smile is not my smile, your extroversion should not be forced on me. My contentment is fulfilling, my happiness is independent from your expectations, my emotions are mine to control. And telling me otherwise, insisting I smile more? You lost my respect, entirely. I cannot respect someone who ultimately refuses to accept the fact that humans are varied, and that everyone processes and communicates and emotes differently. Your priorities are not mine, so keep them to yourself. Heaven knows you are the only one here who cares about such superficial façade. So do us both a favor. Next time you think I'm not smiling enough? Remind yourself that what my face shows is not yours to dictate. Remember that when I flatten my intonation and smooth my features so you cannot see the loathing you have stoked. Remember that when I give concise responses designed to make you leave me alone faster. Remember that when catastrophe hits and someone tells you that you have no right to get so emotional, or when someone insists your celebrations of happiness are unseemly or have no place in your current environment. Think of these things, and remember that we're all human here. It's just not that easy.

I gave up on myself because the world gave up on me.

I have been drowning in my tears, so blurry I can't see.

Toxic waters ocean breeze falling rain drops tender knees.

Feeling like a feather caught up in the breeze.

I gave up on the world because it gave up on me.

It's hard to smile because Life, it's not that easy.