yesterday while feverish i wrote about how boats can moor next to each other like pigeons, cooing with the gentle rap of water against their hull. you once said that that the way i see things - birds in the water, feathers in marina paint - was "childish and naive." you said i'd been misdiagnosed - "it can't all be adhd. you might be just kind of stupid and lazy."
i still do certain things like how you taught me - turn the pillow case inside out before putting it on. drive defensively. hate myself entirely.
the prompt for this poem is "mahler's fifth." i wish it wasn't, but mahler's fifth was our song. it ended up in my book. every person that knows your name has promised me they'll give you one swift rabbit punch, right to the face. dean read the book and showed up on my front porch, drenched in sweat from running the 8 miles at 4 in the morning. he was shaking. pacifist and gentle - he works with children - i'd never seen him furious. a punch isn't going to do it, he said, and then said i'm sorry. i had to come to see if you were okay.
mahler's fifth was mine first, like my girlhood. i like the way each movement piles onto the next movement, each instrument bleeding into the next. i like the horn version the best. before i met you, i danced to it on grass still-wet from sprinklers.
later you would tell me that the way you heard it was somehow better. you understood something in it that i couldn't quite wrap my fingers into. once, on our anniversary, you asked the classical music radio station to play it for us. we missed hearing it because we were fighting. one of the things people get wrong about abuse is that sometimes victims are, like, brutally aware of the stupidity of our situation. what do you mean that you thought i wasn't good enough for you? you? you're just... nothing.
sometimes people can pull the poetry out of your life. i watched my words become clothesline, and then thin out into kite twine. i watched you chew through every good syllable of me. so many good songs and places and moments were ruined. i am glad you didn't like most of my music - less to tie back to you.
but still mahler's fifth. the music swells, and i am 21 and throwing up in a bathroom on my birthday. a woman i will later refer to as lesbian jesus runs a cool hand down my back, her perfect pantsuit starch-pressed. she told me to leave you. she said - and this is true, and not an invention of rhyme or fantasy - i'm you from the future.
i am 22, and i got home from an award ceremony, and i remember you telling me - you act so proud of yourself when you're actually so fucking embarrassing. i took you to disney world. you took my virginity. i gave up visiting spain for a week with my family - i instead choose you, to spend the time just-cuddling. you called it "our fuck week." the music swells. it probably should have been a red flag that for about 3 years - i just gave up on crying. my grandfather died and you said nothing. my uncle died and you ghosted me for 3 weeks. you said i need to protect myself from your ongoing tragedy.
every so often i come back to the memory of one of our last afternoons in person. i had just told you that i wasn't going to law school, despite the free ride - i was going to join a creative writing program. master's in fine arts. i was going to finally do it - i was going to follow my dreams. this blog was already internet-famous. however reluctantly, i would occasionally refer to myself as a poet. i got into umass amherst's writing program for fiction authors. it is one of the the top 5 programs in the country.
wait are you seriously considering actually attending that? dumbfounded, you turned completely towards me in your seat. for the 3rd time in our relationship, you almost crashed the car. you actually want to be a writer?
the first time i went viral, it was for a poem i wrote about you:
he wants to say i love you
but keeps it to goodnight
because love will take some falling
and she's afraid of heights.
every time i see that, i want to throw up. you weren't in love with me, you were in love with the control you had over me. a little truth though: i am afraid of heights. you caught a rabbitgirl and skinned her alive.
mahler's fifth still makes me sick.
give me that back. give me back music. give me back everything i had before you. give me back fearlessness. give me back bravery. give me back a scarless body.
give me back what you took from me.
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HC the only reason Miguel gave Hobie a watch in the first place is because he genuinely doesn't know what Punk is
Miguel most likely thinks Punk is just some really old Boomer style that Hobie is WAY too into.
Cause like let's be real, he's from 2099 - he probably can't tell a punk from a greaser from a grunge person from an emo. To Miguel
He probably looks at Hobie the way WE look at Noir.
He probably can't even understand Hobie.
Pop Quiz!! If you met someone from like 1915 RIGHT NOW would you know if they had electricity and phones and photos and radios yet? Were they still using telegraphs? Could women vote yet??
I don't know!!!!!! Couldn't tell ya!!!!!!
Now apply that to Hobie and Miguel
The thought of Hobie being able to reverse engineer his watch didn't even pass his mind cause Miguel's most likely like 'When are you from? 1978? I'm surprised you even know what a computer is. Did you all even have electricity then? Cars? Don't look at me like that - I'm a geneticist not a historian, Brown.'
All he knows is that in Hobies world cars don't fly and therefore he is Ancient and Old™️
We all see Noir as like an old geezer regardless of age but no one ever suggests that how Miguel sees Hobie vjhoohchvoh
Like Miguel completely disregarding Hobie cause he's like 'Hobie? That Boomer? Sure. His generation can't even send an email without downloading a virus. What the hell is he going to do? Put my calculations on a CD-ROM? A floppy-disc?? Lyla, be realistic.'
SO REAL. Cause let's be honest HOW ELSE IS HOBIES STORING ALL HIS DATA 😭😭 He has no SD cards!! Only these!! Floppy Disks!!!
Thousands upon thousands of these
Like what other explanation is there 😭😭 HUH??? Why else would Miguel disregard him so hard!!
Everytime Hobie talks instead of being like 'this snotnose kid-' Miguel's more like 'sure like imma take pointers on how to run a society from a fucking Boomer yeah right I saw what you all did to the economy'
Hobie probably be playing punk music and to Miguel it sounds like old show tunes coming out a vintage tin radio
Hobies music is so old it's 'classical' now 😔
Miguel has absolutely no idea what punk is and tbh???? He doesn't fucking care. Why? Cause that's some old people shit.
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How many of these 'rules for thee but not for me' have your abusive parents enforced on you?
I am allowed to criticize you, insult you, humiliate you and put you down in front of others. If you ever as much as imply I do anything wrong, or make me look bad in front of anyone, I will end you.
I am allowed to be aggressive, loud, intimidating, forceful and violent. You're not allowed to use force even in self defense, otherwise you are the abusive one, and how dare you.
I am allowed to need attention, comfort, appreciation, admiration, praise, reassurance, resources, time, energy, and everyone's support, at all times. If you ever need any of this, not only you are a burden but you're taking away attention that could have been mine and I need it more than you do. You do not deserve any of it.
I am allowed to make mistakes, to do harm with 'good intentions', to make human error and do things completely wrong. Everyone needs to give me a benefit of the doubt and forgive me immediately. If you ever make something I decide is a mistake, not only I will assume you had the worst intentions, but I will punish you severely for it and make you feel like you're the worst failure ever born.
I am allowed to control you completely. I can forbid and deny you anything, even food. I say what you do and when you do it, and you have to do it regardless of how rude I am asking it. If you ever even ask me to do something you need me to do, I will act like you are unreasonable, selfish and trying to take something away from me.
I am allowed to be emotional, whiny, complain, rant, threaten, wallow and cry. You are not allowed to show any emotions or you're spoiled, whiny, insufferable and unworthy of human society.
I am allowed to be seen as human and reasonable, all my actions excusable, and nobody is ever allowed to forget that I have emotions and that it's wrong to blame me for anything. You are not allowed any of this, you don't get to be taken seriously, and all of your actions are inexcusable. I can forget you're human and that you have emotions and it still makes me better than you.
I am allowed to hurt you if you do anything that irritates or annoys me even a little, even if you did it unknowingly and were just being a human. If you ever hurt me, even accidentally, you are a demon, worst child alive, and deserve to burn in hell forever.
I can take any revenge against you and it's justified. If you even consider any kind of revenge, you're evil.
I can forget that you exist and not care at all how my decisions affect you and your life. If you ever make a decision without considering my feelings first, you are the most selfish, disgusting, deprived and evil person who lives only to cause me harm.
My anger directed at you is righteous. Your anger directed at me is selfish, ungrateful, spoiled, deranged, out of control, disgusting, dangerous, makes you evil.
If I ever show contempt at you, you are supposed to still rationalize it as 'love'. If you ever as much as look at me wrong, I will take it as an expression of utter unreasonable hatred and disrespect.
I deserve respect, regardless of what I do to you. You don't deserve respect, and you never will, regardless of what you do for the rest of your life.
I am intelligent, and my every decision is superior to any of yours. You will never be intelligent, your every decision will be considered stupid until you do exactly as I tell you to.
I decide who you are and how are you to be treated. You don't get to decide, not for yourself, not for me. You will perceive me how I tell you to perceive me. I will perceive you as unlovable and awful no matter what you do, and you must perceive yourself this way too.
You must center me in your life. You are completely irrelevant to me and exist solely to make me look good, give me benefits of labour and love and to avoid making any trouble for me. If you try to do otherwise I will attack you as if you are the worst creature existing who is a burden to everyone alive.
Guests and relatives are here to give attention to me. You are not allowed attention and should instead be there as a servant/make me look good.
It is never my fault how I react to you, or even for what I do to you unprovoked. It is always your fault how you react to me, and you are further responsible for all of my actions and emotions as well. Nobody is responsible for your emotions, you might as well not have any.
I am not responsible for my own violence. You are responsible for my violence, and for violence of other people towards you.
I deserve everything I ever wanted from parenthood and raising a child, and only good parts too. If anyone tries to make me go through any unpleasant part, they're stupid or evil. You do not deserve even the basics of a normal childhood, instead you need to be the toughest kid alive if you want to survive.
I can be sensitive to every little hint, implication or face expression. You are not allowed to be sensitive even to the most crude and humiliating remarks or insults. You are not allowed to even have a problem with threats, blackmail or violence.
Whatever bothers me is a real and serious issue. Whatever bothers you is superficial, unimportant, made-up, you dramatizing and you seeking attention. Your problems are not real.
I cannot be compared to anyone for I am unique and special. You can be compared to the most despicable monsters, criminals, predators, and other groups of people that I consider disgusting.
If I am sick, it's a tragedy. If you are sick, stop pretending and get to work. And it's also your own fault and how dare you be sick only to force me to tolerate you being in bed and otherwise ignore you. You've done this on purpose to make me worry.
If I'm hurt, no measure is big enough to comfort me, bring justice back into the world, ensure revenge and correct whatever evil hurt me. If you're hurt, you deserved it, and you're probably just making it up anyway.
Taking care of me is your responsibility. Taking care of you is nobody's chore and you're selfish for wanting it.
My problem are your problems, and you are responsible for fixing them, even when you can't possibly do anything about them. Your problems are irrelevant and nobody cares.
You have to make me look good even at the price of truth, free will, and your own sanity. I can make you look bad in front of others for fun and amusement.
If you're inconvenient to me, I have every right to hate you, hurt you and do anything in the world to force you to change whatever is bothering me. If I'm inconvenient to you, adjust, and keep silent.
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