The Hunger Pains series (Part 3)

the hunger for rest 

I cannot breathe because my body cannot fully relax because I am being watched they are watching me they are watching me I am being watched and my body cannot fully relax. because I cannot breathe. I cannot fully relax my body because I am being monitored. I am being monitored they are monitoring me they are monitoring me I am being monitored and I cannot breathe. I am suffocating because I am being watched they are watching me they are watching me I am being watched and my body cannot fully relax. I cannot breathe because my body cannot fully relax because I am being watched they are watching me they are watching me I am being watched and my body cannot fully relax. because I cannot breathe. I cannot fully relax my body because I am being monitored. I am being monitored they are monitoring me they are monitoring me I am being monitored and I cannot breathe. I am suffocating because I am being watched they are watching me they are watching me I am being watched and my body cannot fully relax. I cannot breathe because my body cannot fully relax because I am being watched they are watching me they are watching me I am being watched and my body cannot fully relax. because I cannot breathe. I cannot fully relax my body because I am being monitored. I am being monitored they are monitoring me they are monitoring me I am being monitored and I cannot breathe. I am suffocating because I am being watched they are watching me they are watching me I am being watched and my body cannot fully relax. I cannot breathe because my body cannot fully relax because I am being watched they are watching me they are watching me I am being watched and my body cannot fully relax. because I cannot breathe. I cannot fully relax my body because I am being monitored. I am being monitored they are monitoring me they are monitoring me I am being monitored and I cannot breathe. I am suffocating because I am being watched they are watching me they are watching me I am being watched and my body cannot fully relax. I cannot breathe because my body cannot fully relax because I am being watched they are watching me they are watching me I am being watched and my body cannot fully relax. because I cannot breathe. I cannot fully relax my body because I am being monitored. I am being monitored they are monitoring me they are monitoring me I am being monitored and I cannot breathe. I am suffocating because I am being watched they are watching me they are watching me I am being watched and my body cannot fully relax. I cannot breathe because my body cannot fully relax because I am being watched they are watching me they are watching me I am being watched and my body cannot fully relax. because I cannot breathe. I cannot fully relax my body because I am being monitored. I am being monitored they are monitoring me they are monitoring me I am being monitored and I cannot breathe. I am suffocating because I am being watched they are watching me they are watching me I am being watched and my body cannot fully relax. I cannot breathe because my body cannot fully relax because I am being watched they are watching me they are watching me I am being watched and my body cannot fully relax. because I cannot breathe. I cannot fully relax my body because I am being monitored. I am being monitored they are monitoring me they are monitoring me I am being monitored and I cannot 

the hunger for comfort

Pienso el amor frecuentemente. La diferencia entre estar lista y estar dispuesta. Soy lista, verdad. Pero estoy dispuesta? No se. Estoy dispuesto a ponerme en esa situación, realmente? Confío tanto en mí mismo?? Sí, pero alguien más? 

Tal vez la última vez realmente fue la última vez…….que triste, no?

I find myself looking for intimacy in relationships outside of my family. Friends, lovers, peers, anyone who could see me outside of my body. See me outside the cage of doubt I spend my home-time in. The comfort is not bred within the walls of my house. Praise is hidden under obligation, these are all things I am supposed to do. It’s like why should I praise you, be proud of you for doing something you’re supposed to do? You’re supposed to be getting good grades, you’re supposed to be taking care of all these things, you’re supposed to be doing this, so why are you even excited about it? Why are you proud of yourself for doing these things when you’re supposed to do them? Those words loom and suddenly I am not proud of myself. For anything. I am undeserving of love, affection, comfort. 

My friends tell me I shrink when they’re around. Shrivel, bend in ways they’ve never seen from me. They tell me I love them in big hugs and screaming from the rooftops because I was tired of mirroring the darkness. The bitter bite of obligated sweetness. I know that I own nothing. Everything promised can be snatched away, or never released in the first place. If not that, anything can be thrown back into your face. I’ve been taught and shown for my entire life that anything and everything tangible even intangible can be taken away from you at any given time. Nothing is mine, I own nothing. I was taught to only know guilt when receiving. Guilt so heavy it sinks the asking stone. One day I will die with boulders in my belly, every emotion swallowed in the face of asking for comfort.

If the only things I own are my thoughts, I become protective of them. I found my privacy in the spaces between those thin shapeless walls, in the margins and lines of my journals, in my bedroom. In my trembling fingers, anxiety is the only thing holding me together from the outside but…… these thoughts are mine. 

i wasn’t taught the right kind of forgiveness
accepting the passive, the dismissive, the invisible
half formed and half meant

my mother apologizes by making dinner
55 minutes after deeming me both “too smart to” or “morally fucked” the air shifts and the soft voiced “are you hungry” appears

as if some slight reminder of nurturing is enough to serve as apology

oh, but let me human
let me let slip of tongue

and watch me bleed
bite my tongue clean off in submission
atonement

i’d never earn the pass my mother so freely scans at the kiosk apology
waiting to stamp me guilty into unforgiving ground