My Calamitous Gardener

Your words turn into flowers in my chest. Vines that crawl through my throat into my head blinding me from everything I should be seeing. I feel my lungs expand with every new blossom and my chest tightens for they fill me much too fast. But when you leave, the flowers turn into the deadliest of creatures. Crawling through my throat. Escaping into the air. These attrocities prevent me from breathing. Make me question whether they could have ever been the beauty that escaped your lips. They whisper to me not the words they had once been but what my mind had changed them into. Only the most vulgar forms of speech are sent through every vertbrae in my spine. I have become afraid of you and everything it means for me when I hear your voice. Your hands around my waist become the vines who’s thorns rip into my skin and allow my demons to breathe in that which makes them stronger. I do not blame you for any of this. None of this is becasue of you. It is because of my own inability to differentiate between what is good and what is true. My mind clings to the darkness it has been taught and it polluts the rest of my body with unkind waters. This is not your fault but you are not beneficial to the continuation of my life. You plant flowers inside of me that cannot stay alive without your attention becasue I can do nothing but kill the most beautiful things in life. You have made my stomach a cage of butterflies but the acid kills them within moments of their arrival. You are everything that is beautiful and I am everything that will destroy that.

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Entangled in you

I am so worried about you. All the god damn time. Then I go from being worried about you to convincing myself that you are better off without me. That your life is better without me in it. I can’t choose and I can’t decide which one I would rather. I think I may be projecting what I feel onto your body. I do not see what is really you. I see that I am hurting being away from you and hoping you feel the same way. I am missing you like crazy. You probably don’t think about it at all in your day, but you are always on my mind. I am happy right now. I don’t want you to think that I’m not. I really am enjoying myself. I just think about you a lot. I think about you every time I dance and I wish you were behind me with your hands on my waste. I think about you every time I lay in bed and wish your legs were tangled in mine. I think about you when its quiet and wish the silence was filled with your voice. It is like my pillow is made of you and as soon as my head hits it you enter my dreams. Every time I close my eyes, I see you. No matter how much I enjoy myself, you are always there. In the back of my mind. Reminding me of what I am missing. As much as I wish you felt the same way, I hope you aren’t hurting like me. I hope your heart doesn’t ache every time you think about our last night together. As much as I want to be the one, I hope you find someone to fill you heart with joy and love and that reminds you every day how much your worth. You deserve so much and I hope, even if it isn’t me, that you find that.

Leaving

I haven’t eaten in days. Its not that I’m not hungry, no my stomach feels like it is about to consume itself, but I feel like if I eat I am going to vomit. I have never felt like this before. I’m not sure if it is nerves or overwhelming sadness. Maybe both. You see, I’ve never had to say goodbye before. It was always just a see you later. It isn’t like I will never see them again, but it almost feels like it. It feels like when I leave they are going to forget about me. Like all of these memories we have made will be erased from their minds and I will become an outsider once more. I have been avoiding these words because I was trying to convince myself otherwise, but I broke. My chest is so tight, my eyes are tired, my body is shaking, and my heart feels like it has stopped. I have met people disguised as angel this year. I met people that probably did so much more good for my life than I could ever do for theirs and I am terrified that by the time I come back, they will have moved on. My insides feel like they are crumbling. My body cannot support the weight my shoulders are bearing. I can hear the sweet whisper of anxiety again. It is like it never left. My body is shutting down but I have to keep moving. I was so happy, but obviously happiness is a privelege not a right and it most definitely does not belong to me. The muscles in my face seem to be weaker. I can no longer smile. My whole body feels weaker for that matter. I do not wish to move. The memories run through my head like a cheesy movie montage but instead of calming my body seems more disturbed and tries to shut the thoughts away, but they continue playing and the tears continue falling. I sure hope this goes away soon or this year is going to be harder than anticipated.

The Weight in the Words

When I say I love you… I mean I want, with my entire body, for you to know how important you are. I mean everything you are is a part of my soul and to lose you would mean to lose a part of myself. I am made of little pieces of the people in my life. When I say I love you, I mean you have cured the aching parts of my soul and filled it with only the brightes rays of sun. I mean that I never want to have a life where you don’t exist. I know, all too well, what it is like to feel the indiffernce of the world toward you and I never want you to know what that is. I want you to know the weight of those three words when I say them to you. I am crushed by their weight as the cross the threshold of my mouth. As they rest upon your ears waiting for your acknowledgement they have great hold on my heart to keep me attached so that not a single syllable is empty. You may not guess the weight of these words based on the frequency of their use but I say it as often as possible so that you know how much I truly do love you. Yes, eveytime I say them they mean just as much and the same amout of my soul is released with each time. These words are by no means expendable no matter how often I say them. You see, I would much rather love too much than not at all. I would rather give all of my heart than it become brittle while dust settles upon it, becasue if I do not give my love it will be stolen from me by those who do not deserve it and in the end, if not used, it will be unavailing. When I tell you I love you…I mean my soul belongs to you. I mean you matter more to me that myself.

The Other Side

I don’t think I am supposed to feel this, but, as much as I wish I could, I can’t turn my feelings off. There is no clearly labeled switch. As much as it hurts, I want to tell you. I want you to tell me everything you know I want to hear. Wrap your arms around me like you did when you said goodbye, but let’s stay that way for a while. Your arms are the only place where my body doesn’t feel like shattering. Where my heart doesn’t feel empty. I don’t talk a lot about happy things, but, with you, there is nothing else. You are the only thing that makes me smile when I feel like breaking down. You are the only light I can see when the world is being overcome by darkness. You are so open with your emotions. You know everything you’re feeling. You may not always feel good but you understand your sadness. I envy that so much. I may not understand all of what I am feeling but I know the only good part is you. I want you to know all of my jumbled emotions and I want to know yours. I want you to tell me all of them. I want to hold your hands as you reveal the most vulnerable parts of your self. I want to kiss your palms as if to kiss away the pain of the open wounds. I want to take your pain away. I would take it all if that is what it would take for you to smile, because, God, I love that smile. That smile could make the world forget their problems. Pain could go on as far as the eye can see but just one of your smiles could make it all okay. It makes all of my demons scatter and for a moment I can be truly, undeniably happy. Over the years I have taught myself how to be okay. I don’t have to be happy. I just have to make it through. I have learned to be okay with myself, but you have taught me how to be so much more than that. I don’t know if you know you did that and I don’t know if you feel any of these things, but I want you to know that someone cares. Someone cares a whole lot about you and I hope that’s okay.

Learning to Breath Again

Im not sure how this works. This happiness thing. I don’t wake up and wish I didn’t anymore. When I smile it doesn’t feel empty any more. I’m not forcing the corners of my mouth to form into the devil’s knife. I am begining to feel things again. Which kind of sucks because, ya know, things hurt, but they also feel really good. I can feel the sun on my skin and my insides begin to dance into the world and not shrivel into my darkest depths. I’m not saying I am happy all the time, but for the the time being, life is truly, undeniably good. It is like learning to breath again. It kind of hurts, but its the good pain. The pain that asures you that something good will come in the end. Who knows. Maybe this is a phase. Maybe my real self is in that black graveyard in the back of my mind, and maybe I will return there, but the world has pulled me out to enjoy the love that it has to offer. The weirdest part is when I start to feel people caring about me. All of my life, I have cared so much, love so much, given so much to people. When I care for you it is like my entire soul is owned by you. I have never felt this in return. no one has ever returned my soul, but you. You care and I am learning what that means. What it means when you actually desire to be in my presence and are not just indifferent when I am there. I am not sure how to respond to this feeling, but I am learning. I am learning and I promise I will be better. I will learn to let people care about me. I think eventually I can show myself to you. My whole self and not be ashamed. I pray that you will be there when I am ready becasue I’m not ready to put this smile away quite yet.

Giving Yourself

Have you ever held something in your life so important that you could never think about losing it? Something that feels so perfect that you could never imagine it breaking? Me too. It built me. It carried me when I couldn’t walk. I held it closer to my heart than any part of my own self, but now I can barely hold it in my hands without it crumbling to pieces. I think I might have held it too tightly. I didn’t mean to, but it is turning to dust. Or is that ashes? Did it burn? Am I the one that burned it. I tried. I tried really hard to take good care of it, but it has turned into something not even I recognize. Something I held so dear has turned into something so toxic for me. The soot from the fire is clouding my eyes and I can no longer see the destruction it is causing in my life. It is burning my lungs and is coating the walls in darkness. I think it is trying to destroy me. This thing that I loved so dearly is becoming my most painful memory, but I cannot let it go. My arms are chained to its foundation. Detaching yourself from emotions, they say, is bad for you, but if I am about to be demolished I do not want to feel anything for this thing that caused it. I do not want any love left for this thing that has torn my soul to pieces. I loved it. I didn’t leave it on a shelf. I carried it in my pocket and showed everyone how beautiful it was. I was so proud of it and now everyone will watch it ruin me. It is turning me inside out and allowing the world to see the most vulnerable parts of me before consuming them into the darkness of its grasp. There is no leaving and there is no going back. I am learning that love can only be toxic. There is no version of love, for me, that is not there to destroy. I give my whole self to love and when it succumbs to the darkness there is nothing left for me. Nothing left in this lifeless human shell. I willingly gave myself to it and I must suffer the consequences.

The Polluted Waters

I have spent a very long time trying to pull myself out of that dark corner of my mind. Years of dipping my feet into the water as the shadows entangle themselves around my ankles barely able to resist the temptation to pull me in. And sometimes there was no resistance. Some days I was pulled into the deep end with no strength to fight back. But as the tide began to lower, I found the ability to pull myself out of the shallow. for a little while, the dark pool had dried up. there was no more lake of tainted water. Just the stains left on the empty pit. It was gone and my mind was left peaceful. Today, It overflowed. the pool filled back up faster and darker than ever. This time I didn’t have to go to the water, it came to me. Its hunger reached for me and yanked me to the bottom. My arms and legs flailing. My lungs pounding, begging for someone to pull me out, but no one can see. No one can see the chains clasped around my ankles, the ropes around my wrists, causing them to bleed. No one can see the blood-soaked sleeves of my shirt, the water pouring into my lungs. They don’t see anything because the shadow forces my smile. My smile is a cloak hiding my pain from the outer world. I have tried everything I have ever know to escape from this hell, but its hold is stronger than it has ever been. I can no longer breath. My lungs are being flooded with the darkness from that corner of my mind. I am slowly, painfully drowning in my own thoughts, my own fear. I was a fool to think I could ever escape this. I was a fool to think the shadows wouldn’t someday¬†take over my entire mind, my entire body. My blood is polluted with the corrupt emotions my mind is feeding me. My blood is begging to be spilled. Begging to be released from my body. I am begging to be released. I am afraid where this might end.

Drained

I drink in the world. Moment by moment I soak it all in through the wounds it has given me. I see the world like a passer by sees someone else’s life. I am always looking in. I see the pain. I see the happiness. I see the anger in every one else. I sit on the sidelines to watch how their life plays out. It could be me avoiding my own stage, but I would rather watch someone else’s success than my own. I would rather listen to their voices than have one of my own. A long time ago, mine was stolen. Stolen by the ones that caught my words as they crossed the threshold of my lips into the frozen air. They held them in their palms as they decided whether to warp them to their benefit or to crush them into nothing more iportant than the dust settling on your picture frame. You have given me a reason not to be a reason. I only gave you the most beautiful words that my mouth could form in hopes that they would heal the wounds on your skin. The wounds that only turned out to be a reflection of my own. You projected my pain onto your body because you knew I could not avoid the attempt to heal. I gave myself, all of myself, away. To the many that could not fill themselves. Now I am left with the draining effects. Their is no more love to distribute nor feelings to play host for an unwelcome heart. I gave you mine to be an additional link on the chains binding yours together. By the time I realized that I was only giving you the armor to ¬†shield yourself you had already begun to scavenge through my body’s foundation brick by brick. I gave myself to you and you only kept taking.

Relapse

Its presence haunts me. Like the wounds it causes. Every move you make is a reminder of its company. I have not looked at it for a very long time. For the last time I did, it almost cost me my life. The weight of it stings my skin with just the thought. I have not looked at it in a very long time but for some reason I cannot let it go. I picture it my head resting in the small container holding it. Confining its power so it cannot weild me. But still, my mind is constricted with the thought. Darkness spilling out of gaping veins that it has yet to open. My body shakes with the expectance of what might happen if my head cannot resist the thought of its cold touch. The same cold touch that freezes everything with in me. The same cold touch that causes me to solidify like a sculpture made of ice, shattered with a simple touch, that melts from its fractures. My eyes cannot shift from the memories it has left on my body. My fingers run over the white lines and I read their stories like brail. There is a feeling of absence when their is no irritated lines to break up the picture. There is a feeling of emptiness when there is numbness in the skin that is a product of my past. There is and urge to reach for the light that reflects off of it. But my skin begins to itch because it knows what is coming. My eyes fill with the clouds I have stolen from the sky to fill my soul and I can no longer see the outline of my own hand. My body fights the war that I have put it through. Though it knows that when the battle begins my mind will win. This is not a beautiful story. This story ends in blood soaked soil drowning me when I cross the battlefeild. This story is not beautiful. Because my body’s screams are like the screaching of tires across the hard asphalt. My sunken in cheeks consume the rest of my face. My feet refuse to carry a cavernous body that has become a home for the mosters within it. I am fighting against my own body and we all know what that leads to. No metaphor can make that hole 6 feet deep any prettier than the insects already decorating its walls.