#this weekend im not taking my meds so i can hopefully get to eat properly cause im so tired of this | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

writesbatty · 6 years

Text

days 14-29

complete with unedited content notes from the facebook group i’m in

29/30

i love to rewrite the classics

to make persephone send hades running

(keep that 'rewriting the story of persephone as a love story’ shit several hundred miles from me, thanks.)

to give echo back her voice

to let arachne weave her tapestries once more

rewrite pride and prejudice so lydia bennet does not marry a rapist

get jane eyre out of her aunt's home sooner rather than later

find ophelia a therapist

remind everyone that tragedy can still have a happy ending

28/30 content warning: mentions/discussions of sex and consent. this is very vulnerable and im uncomfortable and DOING IT ANYWAY rip

i tell my boyfriend i think we should start scheduling sex

but that this is not some indication of failure in our relationship

i know he worries that my complicated relationship with sex is some reflection of how attractive i find him

(it doesn't help that the past few years seem to have taken my ease of flattery away from me

i don't know when it got so hard to tell the love of my life he looks good in tank tops

and black jeans like the ones he wore when i met him)

but it's not that

it's that i don't think about it, the same way i don't notice i am hungry till i'm starving, don't notice i'm thirsty till my head aches and spins, don't notice i am anxious until i am already in the middle of panic

it's that i was in a relationship where i never thought about the word no, it never occurred to me as an option, and now i end up consumed with pointless worry that i do not really want this

i try to talk to my therapist about these things, but i never really know what to say

how to explain my ex never set out to hurt me and half of it was my fault, but i am still feeling the aftershocks years later

without sounding like i am making excuses

(maybe i am, i don't know, i have always had a hard time with blame, with holding others accountable)

but at the same time i never want to imply what happened was more serious than it was

nothing like a genuine violation, nothing that should label me victim or survivor

nothing like what others have gritted their teeth and fought through

maybe some of it is the meds

it's hard to tell

how much is the meds and how much is the trauma and how much is just me

and why has it been six years and i still can't

-casually tell my boyfriend he has a nice ass

-sit in my boyfriend's lap

-fearlessly messily uninhibitedly make out with my boyfriend

because some paranoid corner of my mind is afraid to say 'no'

(nothing would happen if i said no, because everything would stop happening, it's not fear that makes me question, it's the idea of disappointing someone i love, and that's all on me, not on him)

my boyfriend is an angel with a nice ass

(seriously, i am not overstating this, he has a very nice, round butt)

and when i tell him

i think we should start scheduling sex

he kisses the top of my head

and talks about how bob and linda on bob's burgers schedule sex, and they have like, the best marriage on television, so clearly we're in good company

and pulls me over to the couch to feed me ice cream and scratch my back

27/30 warning for like. harry potter/jkr 'discourse' or something i guess?

listen, we all should have known jk rowling was going down in flames the moment she made harry james potter a fucking MAGICAL COP at the end of the series

i have a list of problems with the deathly hallows epilogue that is longer than the actual epilogue and this is at least three of them

will somebody cut harry a fucking break?

why on earth would someone punish this abused, traumatized, exhausted person by giving them a career that will repeatedly remind them of every bad thing that has ever happened, which is most things that have happened to harry potter

harry potter should have been the defense against the dark arts instructor

harry potter has intimately seen both sides, every inch of light and dark

and he saw them as a child, he grew in them like a weed in brackish water, an in between neither fresh nor salt

(but he chose good, he always chose good, and it was always a choice, and it wasn't always easy)

let him teach other children to protect themselves

let him eat lunch with neville longbottom so they can discuss their students and make sure no teacher ever treats kids the way snape treated his students

the way snape treated harry and neville

let harry spend his weekends in hogsmeade with friends both old and new remembering only the light spots in the dark days of his schooling

let him know the joy of helping a struggling student

(this is how he will carry on remus lupin's legacy; that and the bar of honeyduke's finest chocolate in his desk)

let harry potter retire and spoil the ever loving shit out of all of his grandchildren

let harry potter put the past behind him

consider the fact that we don't all want to devote our lives

to fighting the demons we met in childhood

26/30

nightmare at 20,000 feet is the most terrifying episode of the twilight zone

and what an apt title

what an apt metaphor

because what could ever be more nightmare then knowing the worst is just outside the window

but no one else can see it

25/30 this ends like super abruptly but idk how to end it Properly and i need sleep so. shrug emoji.

it's like a bad joke, this harmless word that never stops following me

you know those tasteless reddit posts about trigger warnings? how there's 'no way' someone could be traumatized by something so normal

so small

that's me. i am that joke.

a man at the aquarium calls his young daughter pumpkin and i–

i swallow a wave of nausea

i try to ignore the way my skin begins to crawl

and my heart speeds up

and i can hear the sound of his voice

it's like time travel

it's like a curse

just say 'pumpkin' and i fly back in time and it's like my body does not know that he is dead

that he hasn't called me pumpkin in nearly a decade

you would think it would be the mocking, the insults, that would ring like shots through my echo chamber brain

but

it's that fucking petname

it's 'i'm sorry, pumpkin' in his voice and the look in his eyes as he digs the hole in my chest just a little bit deeper with another fake apology

an apology all for him

when he came to my high school graduation there were rules

-he could not drink

-he could not apologize

-he could not call me pumpkin

24/30

it's funny

this disconnect between the me i know and the me other people know

at home i pace the floor, building up the courage to call for a cab

at work they tell me i am good with people, that i am no nonsense

at home, i twist my hair in my fingers as i struggle to tell my partner of nearly six years i need something to eat

at school they called me confident, self assured

i wonder where this other me is when i need them most

where is this confident and self assured version of me when something actually happens?

when someone is in trouble?

when someone gropes me in the street?

when someone needs them?

when i need them?

23/30

weirdly specific sections i wish i could find at the bookstore:

unconventional sci written by women and queer people

dystopian fiction that ends hopefully

non-ableist romance novels with disabled protagonists written by disabled people

young adult romance novels about lesbians and magic with happy endings

poetry for queer girls who really like artemisia gentileschi's art

collections of personal essays about hospital waiting rooms

college kids from dysfunctional families getting their shit together and falling in love

narratives about found families of misfits

young adult novels about queer romance and theatre kids

the exact novels you needed to read at 15 when you were scared and alone and will still make you cathartically sob while reading in a public park

(this last section is real except it's just the francesca lia block shelves in the young adult section)

how to guides on how to be a person when your body and the world you live in are crumbling to pieces rapidly

advice on how to make your best friends move out of state to be closer to you

novels where the protagonist goes through hell but they come out the other side and are still an essentially good and optimistic person despite their trauma because the world is a terrifying place and we need fiction and narrative to remind us of the potential for hope

22/30

edit: i just word vomit typed this directly into the comment box and it got weirdly long so Be Aware

elle woods is my personal hero

i'm blonde

'yes sarah'

i'm sure you're thinking

'i know, i have seen you'

but it's more than that, okay? i am blonde on the inside. my heart and soul are blonde. i talk to people and they say 'i can't imagine you not blonde' because the concept of me any other way is absurd

maybe because its the one thing everyone always loved about me. when i was a kid, everyone wanted to play with my hair. i had barbie hair, disney princess hair. long blonde waves like strands of gold.

i grew up telling blonde jokes, so everyone would know i was Smart and Cool. i got teased for being a nerd and a four eyes and for awhile everyone called me 'dictionary' because i knew how to spell zombie. smart was more important to me than cool, but i still told blonde jokes. the blonde swims ninety percent of the way to the other shore, gets tired, and swims all the way back, and god if that isn't a metaphor for my life. god if i haven't spent 25 years fighting not to be the blonde who turned back.

when i almost failed math in my freshman year of high school my father told me i should give up and become a playboy bunny because i didn't have a future. a childhood friend asks when i will grow out of the color pink.

i am a blonde the way i am pink. spiteful. elle woods walking malibu barbie through the halls of harvard. elle woods taking notes in pink sparkling pen. elle woods handing in her scented resume printed on pink paper.

elle woods saying

'what, like it's hard?'

i tape my thesis pages to the wall with glitter tape and pin my blonde hair back with a flower clip and i wear baby pink leather heels with bows on them.

'what, like it's hard?'

21/30

why do the aliens always want to kill us?

why do we always build a giant weapon?

why can't the aliens come to earth to help us?

why aren't scifi movies about healing?

20/30

ode to vestibular stimming

i do not like metal music

i'm sorry, it's just not my thing

but good god do i understand why people head bang

and why people mosh

when i was a kid i loved jumping on the trampoline, and the way it made my heart and brain jump and soar and bounce

now i can't jump on trampolines anymore but

i can listen to british pop music in my living room and laugh and feel that soar and jump and bounce as i swing my head from side to side and up and down and sometimes, for extra fun, twist my torso around a little

like i am so much energy and so little body but finally it has somewhere to go as my hair swishes against my face and an unstoppable grin spreads across my face and

don't you ever wanna just let go?

don't you ever wanna shake your head until the dizzy chases everything else away?

19/30

i like to talk to the creatures in the tanks when i do my aquarium rounds

the old man of an octopus in the floor tank i call gramps

my favorite sea star, a purple velcro star in the touch tanks, i call zippy

mostly i just call everything 'buddy'

'hey buddy, how ya doing today?' or 'come on buddy, scootch down from the top of the glass'

i apologize to the anemones when they close up because people have touched them too much

and i apologize to the jellies when it takes me more than one try to scoop them out so i can change their water

in middle school i noticed a rip on my baby doll's neck so i made her a neck brace from the sash of a build a bear robe and propped her up on pillows every night, so she wouldn't rip anymore

i am nearly 25 and i still feel guilty when my stuffed animals fall to the ground

i am nearly 25 and i keep multiple stuffed animals in the bed i share with my boyfriend of nearly six years

a common misconception of autism and other similar social disorders is that people on the spectrum do not experience empathy

and in some cases this is true

but an often ignored aspect of these disorders is that anything you could lack, you can also have too much of

hyper-empathy is when you are so receptive to others feelings they become your own

they become so much your own it causes you physical distress

and everything

everything

has feelings

i once got sad about throwing away a pair of pants because i had them for just... so long

i once cried on an apartment balcony because my neighbors i had never met, never even SEEN, were fighting

today i watched a young boy scare simon, a seagull who hangs out by the aquarium, by screaming at him

and it broke my heart a little even though i not especially fond of birds and am, in fact, kind of afraid of them

sometimes i sit and think about the things my dad experienced and my aching too big heart thinks

maybe it was okay

maybe the things he said were okay, because of what happened to him

my aching too big heart always forgets

things happened to my mother, too

things happened to me, too

and neither of us turned out like that

articles on the internet talk about hyper-empathy like a super power

call it 'being an empath'

to me it has always felt more like a bruise

like my aching too big heart just can't stop pumping blood to the tender surface of my skin

18/30

a very angry letter to a lady who came into the aquarium yesterday. less poem and more just 'complaining' but wow, i am still mad like 36 hrs later

for the love of god, lady

what is your fucking problem?

you are a grown adult. you have multiple children, some of whom are teenagers, and this is how you behave, in public, in front of your family?

are you incapable of basic human decency? did no one ever teach you manners?

yes, there is a disabled person and their caretaker in this aquarium, and yes the person is making noise. people make noise. you are in a fucking public place. children scream in here literally all the time. the seals scream. parents scream. sometimes the people who work here scream, because it is the only way you can hear us over the damn seals.

so why, lady, do you feel the need to make some rude ass comment about a person you don't even know, and look at me like

you expect me to play along

i wish i could say something to you but i am an employee and that is not polite but

if i was just a person i would tell you to shove it

but i wish i could have been a staff member AND told you to shove it

so i could have told you, hey, lady

this person helping you, telling you all this information about sea stars, is also fucking disabled

and your rude as hell eye roll and 'oh great, here we go' and 'really?' and loud scoffing is not appreciated

and frankly you can kiss my autistic ass and get the fuck out

17/30

capitalism is broken

and the reason i know this is because of jurassic park

not the franchise but the canon, the universe it exists in

every time i complain about the jurassic park universe

demanding to know why, for the love of GOD, do people keep opening these parks full of dangerous dinosaurs

someone always tells me 'the money, obviously'

as if capitalism was a reasonable excuse for making a super t-rex that eats people

as if money were an excuse for making yet another death trap

yet another super dinosaur that's going to –inevitably– escape and eat and/or traumatize someone

the idea that the people who built jurassic world looked at the events of jurassic park and thought

the money is worth it

we won't fuck up this time

is completely fucking baffling to me

i suppose maybe i am meant to see this as a heartwarming representation of the american refusal to fail

if at first you don't succeed, try try again, after all!

but i think about the news article i read last night

about how insurance companies worry curing diseases is not profitable

and i think about all the lives lost and therapy needed because everyone in jurassic world refused to learn from john hammond's mistakes

and i don't think any of this is saying americans refuse to fail

it's just saying we don't care how many times we kill people if there's good money to be made

16/30, inspired by how affectionate the characters on new girl are with each other

all through high school i did theatre, and i don't know if this is a universal theatre kid thing, or just something we all did

but we were all about physical contact

we were a bunch of misfit touch starved pets

piling seven teenagers on one sofa, every part of you touching somebody, every part of you warm

and i miss that

all that platonic but physical affection

i am a very affectionate person, and i find myself fighting to seem 'normal' in social situations

reminding myself not to wrap my arms around people, or rest a hand on someone's leg, or call casual friends babe, or offer people bites of food

this is how i lived all of high school

sitting in laps, holding hands in the halls, kisses hello, shared drinks and forks

i miss it

i don't understand our desire as a society to deem intimate touch romantic

why shouldn't i kiss my best friend on the cheek? why shouldn't friends hold hands?

we are social creatures, after all

we don't start out like this

we sleep in heaps at slumber parties, we play doctor, we play house, we do each other's hair

why does all that stop because we get old enough to want to kiss people?

doesn't that seem silly?

15/30 write more love poems about your friends guys. love your friends tell people you love them. i love telling people i love them. i love u. all of u. here's a poem about my best friend aka the greatest human on earth, the guildenstern to my rosencrantz

so i've known my best friend since 9th grade

except

except actually i met her in 3rd grade and didn't know it until 10th grade

and she wasn't my best friend until college

except

except she was, i think, maybe the whole time and we just didn't know it

on my fifteenth birthday she came with me to get my nose pierced and gave me a hand drawn birthday card that quoted my favorite green day song

once we spent six hours on skype drawing bad caricatures of celebrities

and when i left to grab a snack she yelled after me

"don't you go where i can't follow"

our senior year we read "rosencrantz and guildenstern are dead" for ap english and we started calling each other rosencrantz and guildenstern

and when she gave her senior project speech on william faulkner she cried, not because she was nervous, but because she loves faulkner and she got emotional

she is exactly 12 days older than me, and a taurus, and she plays a bunch of different instruments and one day we're going to start a folk punk band called the rebel amish

last summer we went to the deyoung together and laid in a shag covered bean bag chair watching the light show in the summer of love exhibit for like an hour

and we took a selfie in some giant gold antique mirror

and when i picture my future, she is as much a part of it as my boyfriend

this other love of my life, this girl with the bright eyes and the once broken nose and who is always willing to sit and talk about books

or the shitty people we went to high school with

or weird titles for potential memoirs

this amazing person, who is the only person i would trust to drive me through marin county while eating a mcdonalds cheeseburger

it is a different kind of love, sure

but it is a love story

and it is ours

14/30 which i wrote but forgot to post because i was playing video games

i wish my own mysteries were this easy to solve

just look for the spot that glows

and unearth what's hiding

no crying

no years of therapy

no buried memories

just point and click

#napowrimo #National Poetry Month #National Poetry Writing Month #LONG AS FUCK im sorry

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