George R.R. Martin once wrote, “The more people you love, the weaker you are.” I’ve found we only tolerate more from the people we have a deep connection with. That’s why you see people staying in abusive relationships, whether it’s physical, mental or emotional. I have attempted to rip myself from someone who beat me so bad he chipped my tooth and blacked my eye. He wound up homeless, snorting cocaine and drinking every night on the sidewalk. I lived with my parents at the time, but I gave it up to live on the street with him. He flinched at nothing, he held a gun to a drug dealer’s head, I witnessed him beat someone with their own high heel, but I was his favorite toy. Why is it that the deeper the love, the harder we are willing to take a hit? Although, I believe the real question is - Why was I attracting this type of person to begin with?
You only attract the love you think you deserve. It’s fucking magnetic. What you think you deserve is based upon the love you have for yourself. Some days I couldn’t even look at myself in the mirror. I hated myself once. I would turn my mirrors backwards so I could only see the brown paper that covered the back of them, or the wood that held the glass together. I’d avoid my reflection In the mirror, I’d shower with the lights off. I’d wash my body while I looked up at the wall, counting the cracks in the tile. There was always a radio sitting on the porcelain sink to drown out my own thoughts. The only mirror I loved was the one above that sink that fogged up right after a shower. Like pretty clouds. Most of us avoid our fears, and I feared myself.
I’d be lying if I told you I knew how I finally released myself from that former relationship. Truth is, I caught him cheating for the first time. My bruised ego was the cause of my permanent disappearance from him. My ego is what controls my motives, tells me how to move, what to do next. You can hurt my body, hit me, lock me in a closet for four hours, call me names but when there’s a go at my ego, I go too. I have wondered if these are narcissistic traits.
There are ties to a desire for pain to fill a void for insecurity. It drowns out what we are feeling. I wanted someone to hit me so I could ignore my self inflicted pain. Then I cut myself to ignore the pain others were inflicting upon me. I stared at the cracks in the tiles to ignore my own shortcomings. I only liked the foggy mirrors. I love pain, I am an addict to the abuse. This is not like a drug addiction, or an alcohol addiction. People may say these are nothing but clinical narcissistic traits. But I’m a feeler. I’m not a robot. I feel everything and nothing all at the same time. My heart bleeds every color, my bones can bend like bread, I bite my lip for the feel, I find power in allowing myself to be weak. I don’t know how to fix it, I don’t think I ever wanted to. But I’d rather be flesh and blood than bricks and boulders.
My chest was tightened, everything around me was blurry. I tried to move but it was like my shoes were made of concrete and my arms made of jello. I was slow moving and weak like a malnourished child. Everything that surrounded me was like a lit up time lapse in the middle of Times Square. Red and blues and yellows rapidly advancing past me, potholes bursting with water in the streets. Animated billboards lit up in the sky like a fucking Christmas tree in the middle of December. And there I was, statued in at a stand still. My eyes were wide open and my mouth was sewn together, and I knew, this is what fear looks like.
People dead possibilities by allowing their fear to overpower their courage. I have avoided friendships, broken off romantic relationships and strayed from my goals by fearing what could happen. One out of two things will happen based upon your choices: You will fail and learn something, or you will try and succeed at something. What people don’t realize is that even if you fail, you will take with you the knowledge and experience with you for the next time. There is no courage without fear and you will do nothing and learn nothing by becoming a slave to your insecurities. You can choose to live your dreams, or live your fears.
I wonder how many opportunities I have missed out on. I wonder how many dreams I’ve killed by not taking that chance. I wonder if I’ve walked past the love of my life because I thought I wasn’t pretty enough to speak to them. How many career opportunities I’ve dodged because I thought I wasn’t talented enough. I’m a broadcaster, I’m a writer, I’m a woman, I’m a lover, I’m a Mother, I’m a fighter, I’m the fucking beat that my body dances to. I give myself the oxygen to flame the fire that resides inside of this passion that I live so dangerously for. Use fear as a tool to prove to yourself that you’re not weak, that you’re not a push over. Fear is just a feeling your soul whisper to your mind to show you that there is something to overcome. Fear is the asphyxiation of you dreams. What you want is over the fence of fear. Don’t be a slave to it. While you look up to someone, someone is looking up to you to show them the way. Be the evolution you want to see in humanity.
When I first started this entry, I was sharing with you a dream I once had. The world was ending around me and I couldn’t move. I just stood there. Everything was moving around me and I didn’t exist. Maybe I could have changed something. Maybe I could have saved a life or stopped the domino effect but I was too afraid to let what could happen by letting nothing happen. Don’t be the walking dead, don’t be injured bait, don’t be a slave to yourself. Talk to that person you’ve been wanting to talk to. Try out for that contest. Apply for that job. Kiss that boy or girl, go to the party, laugh too loud, make a stupid joke, skinny dip, cry at movies, scream for no reason. Fear is a prison. Show people what freedom looks like. Do what you think you cannot. Fear is a choice. Which one will you make?
la douleur exquise
You speak to me but you’re lost in the crowd
I try to reach out but the noise it too loud
So maybe if I scream you’ll turn around
But I’m not the one
and you don’t want to be found
You find the art in humor when there’s black
And hide your heart under a Polo hat
My eyes don’t part from any of that
I stare at you
But you never look back
Perhaps the greatest love is never tried
You never mind me ‘cause I’m not the guy
Alone, I wonder if he makes you cry
This is like drowning
But I can’t fucking die
You say good morning but I haven’t slept
Still think you’re pretty when your hairs unkept
Running after you, catching my breath
Caring about you
Is the most intense form of death
Someone once told me that guilt is punishing yourself before God does. The path you choose is paved with the choices you make, which will be subconsciously associated with how you feel about those choices. We were all raised differently, treated differently and that basic line of treatment is going to predict how we treat others and ourselves down the road. I believe the deposits and/or withdrawals you make in people’s lives will be the same deposits and withdrawals you make within your own. Don’t punish other people because you feel they may hurt you first. I struggle with allowing people to get too close, and that’s okay. Although not everyone deserves your love and effort, everyone deserves to be treated with respect. One who lashes out without blatant cause is a scarred soul wrapped in a tangled spirit whose goal is to essentially keep others around them under the tide so they don’t drown themselves.
“Kill it before it kills you,” is something I created to give myself an excuse to hurt people. The sad thing is, I’m just now realizing this while typing. If this is how we view life, friendship and romantic relationships then there will be nothing left in the end. Worrying before it happens, predicting the outcome without any reasonable cause. I don’t want to be the person that stands alone in a circle of dead bodies. I don’t want to be the person that causes the tears to form in your eyes before you’ve raised a hand. I don’t want to be the girl who makes you fight for your life when your oxygen isn’t being threatened. We have coping mechanisms, whether we run before the chase or we build brick walls without being in a war. Build walls to reach a state of serenity and peace within yourself.
I have used hurting myself as an anesthetic from past injuries. I have also inflicted pain upon myself as punishment for the things I’ve done to other people. It’s a nasty cycle. We hurt people because they’ve hurt us, we punish ourselves for hurting other people, people punish us because they’ve been hurt. It’s all a merry go round of self condemnation laced with pity and pain, but it can be medicated. Remember who you were before your first heartbreak. Don’t lose your twinkle, don’t forget what gave you your spark before someone tried to dim it out. Remember how you felt the first time a girl or a boy kissed you. Remember how much you used to be capable of giving, without the expectation or the desire for praise. Go into relationships and life with the luminescence you had before you were ever ripped to pieces. You can break the cycle of self harm by treating people the way you want to be treated. Every person has been through something that made them feel like they wanted to die, but who we are is how we handle these situations. Be the difference, be your own happiness, make someone smile and be the change you beg to see from the world.
And know, someone is looking to you for guidance.
The Inspirational Kill
She sheds her hope to feed it again
To feed the song, she longs for again
To feed the song, she eats the pen
Swallows it whole and eats it again
She blinds herself in the blackest hole
She lies unclothed and designs her soul
She hides behind the science she stole
And dies while trying to convince them all
Blood is worshipped like artist to muse
Stuck in this s**t as she started to puke
Sucked up the sick she bombarded to use
And picked up the pen, off of her shoes
The shedding is gone, grow back the skin
Where the soul is lost, grow back a limb
She wrote the song she longed to begin
But she swallowed it whole and ate it again
Curiosity Killed The Crow
Where she hides, nobody knows
The grass is greener, as far as she knows
Where a blunder grows out of its clothes
Where she hides, nobody knows
A silent crowd is a riot of woe
Where lie a bird, is just a crow
Fall, a hundred feathers fold
Souls become a thousand foes
A different home, means a different role
Inside of her, another unfolds; alone
Finds thyself older on her own
Where she loses a heart, she grows a bone
A piece is lost when a hand is loaned
The peace is lost when cost means owned
To cross a chance that might be blown
To blow a chance because she’s prone
To beg for change means no coins or gold
Desperate for so, she never gives slow
Progress is shown like blood in the snow
She bleeds such, for the crutch that is loaned
He loves her more when the floor is her low
She turns to corpse when he’s forced to let go
Light the torch to scorch her for show
Her blood won’t show when he melts the snow
Where he hid her, nobody knows
The snow is scarlet, as far as he knows
Where a blunder glows out of it’s clothes
Where he hid her, nobody knows