8.22.23 - 10.21.24
i haven't seen you in a year.
it's a relief.
it should be a relief.
instead it's a dread.
i'm not stupid. i know
you'll be back.
sometimes when i lie awake
at night
i feel your approach
fading away just before
you arrive.
i breathe a sigh of relief
and fall asleep.
i push you from my mind
because i have to.
i cannot think about you.
don't think about it.
don't think about it.
don't talk about it.
don't write about it.
but here i am. writing it.
thinking it. maybe you
were right.
maybe i did want it.
maybe i even
needed it.
i haven't forgotten.
my days are spent
not with sighs of relief
or the cherishing of each night
that i go without—
but instead with the fear
of the night you'll return.
because i know you will.
maybe once upon a time,
i thought you went away,
but i've given up on
kidding myself.
you are, after all,
a part of me.
isn't that what
my first psychiatrist said?
you are the rot in my gut that i
try to starve out of me;
you are the intrusive thoughts
that make me believe i am a monster;
you are the distorted disgusting image
of my bare body that i spend my life
trying to cover up.
you are the hatred that i
cannot beat out of myself.
i'm always externalizing my flaws.
building people in my head to blame
when i fuck up.
you are the shame.
so many people told me
i had no reason to be broken.
so i invented you
to break me.
and it worked.
which is why i know you'll
be back.
because shame doesn't die.
it can't be killed.
it can only be stalled, delayed,
pushed away towards some
abstract future date
that i know is fast approaching.
you're coming.
i'd like to say i'm ready for it.
i'm prepared, or at least i'll
have time to prepare, to guard my throat
against the acid reflux, to
build up my mental defenses and stand up
to you again.
but i'm never prepared.
that's the funny thing about shame.
it creeps up. subtle.
you are the space in my brain that i define
by what's around it, the life, the love
that you displace. because i cannot
face it head on.
i have to stay on the outskirts,
fencing off the pitfalls
in my brain, tunnels in the amygdala,
rivers in the frontal lobe
that will lead me straight to you.
you're the part of me
that i cannot admit is mine.
and until i can,
we'll be stuck in this endless dance
of torment.
you: my flaws, my shame.
and me: forever looking for
excuses.