I was… bare, naked.
Unbathed. Untamed. Unnamed.
Parts adding to one.
Pieces making a whole.
No sorrow: No pain: No harm.
Then you subtracted my parts to none.
Pieces of my newly fragmented withins.
I: hidden, scarred.
Frozen. Sterile. Panicked.
Multiplied each part ’til I’m ZerO-ed
Unpretty. Unloved. Undone.
No peace: No joy: No light.
I was: pure, innocent.
I wish I’d have known:
I was your BLanK CAnvaS.
LieNzo-en-BlaNcO para ti
Inutil en tu afan de costurera.
Sin valor, porque no soy de seda.
Tu, falta de color en pigmentos.
Con cada aguja me clavaste tormento
Yo: herida, paralizada.
Hiciste en mi piel tu costura.
A fuerza del hilo de mi sufrimiento.
Forzandome al silencio de mi dolor.
never whole but 1/3 i am in obscurity unbelieved and tamed. not in balance but off-center my world bounces and i miss my step into the next dimension. not empty but 1/3 i am in overly stimulated paralysis both here and there. and i try to survive but i need my other 2/3 or at least 1 to function. because one axis is broken in shards of opaque rainbows and not recovering. and i try to juggle mix and match in this triple architecture. bleeding atrium gives way to this bizarre trinity of self-detachment. never to be whole but 1/3 i am in this broken tri-axis with hopelessness, intrigue and shame.
I live around but not among or with you. I am elsewhere. Same coordinates to a much different location. Many see me every day, most remember me somehow- truly, I often wish to die
(but I promised I wouldn’t do so by my hand ) so I often settle for being invisible (but I always catch attention). Although I am a failure, deep down I know I tried and must remember the next time forgetting leads to urgency of life or death. Cause when the mask cracks open more than most are willing to see (or I’m willing to show), people feel entitled to gauge my pain, feed their curiosity, make their damage. I become a ‘something’ and must act as such to endure your forced de-humanity without breaking completely and loosing your lack-lustre sense of kindness that leaves you at the same (or quicker) pace tears flood me and start raining out my eyes, at the same rhythm my thoughts escape all sense and come out my mouth without giving me time to breathe. You judge me for not opening up, yet I must silently watch you flee any time I do or if “it” come outs involuntarily.
You and your average-lifer issues, those I must listen and empathize too.
And I do. But really, living in this world with so much of all- except happy- changes you.
I do feel bad about your meltdowns triggered by people and/or their interactions. I do understand the feeling of powerlessness
over circumstances. But, imagine yourself @ your lowest low, your angriest angry, your most anxious, your most energy mingling unexpectedly- but no happy. Imagine the fatal mixture nearly every day for years, preventing or damaging your life irreparably… and then having to swallow it. Being prohibited from speaking out about the chronic condition that alters your everything, including you… So, I’m sorry that your darkest dark compares to my better day.
I feel your presence through your absence and I
can’t help this… must accept this transient non-existence while it lasts… may I not be a hindrance in your path to my damnation… because only You-my Healer, Killer and Savior– can tend this open wound… because I need your aid in breaking resistance- in this agony I must have you, like you own me- at your convenience. I see my presence in your absence and I can’t help me- but you, my sweet Mania- can do as I need. Will you ever return to me?