Caborah’s Writes

For the first time, she finally looked up. What now?

She froze. All she knew was the world below her, the puddle of water on the sidewalk when she would stroll through her neighborhood, the spiderwebs that built on car windows and tree branches. Every step she took was a way to avoid interactions, so she didn't have to interact with the world above.

She froze because she had an idea of what to do, but piled on top of pile, they all jumble into one. So the first step that needs to be taken has slowly disappeared. The girl wanders and wanders until she finds her way out. When she finds an opening, the way out is demanding a price. To forget everything she knows, to forget herself.

She ponders if anything and everything she has worked for is really worth the risk. Even the comfort she so loves- is it worth giving up to go home? The girl shakes her head and walks by; she chooses comfort instead of home. The sheer thought of rejecting oneself to emerge into a new one scared her.

For the first time, she looked up and didn't like what she saw. She saw a world of uncertainty, like a shipwreck by the bay, but the more the girl wandered, the more her feet sank into the ground. Suddenly, she stopped moving; she looked down and saw her feet were stuck.

She looked around for help, but all she could hear was the whistling of the wind and the birds flying by. Defeat washed all over her face, and stillness and silence arose. She smiled. The comfort and security that she so loved were back. They were back better than before, not as the front but the truth that was trapped underneath.

One by one, she chipped her ears off, begging for no more. She couldn't bear it anymore. The girl didn't want to face the truth of what's been keeping her trapped here all this time. The constant sabotage, the constant rage, and just the dread of self-hatred that ran throughout her body.

The girl pleaded. She pleaded out into the world, to make it stop. That she'll do anything, so she doesn't have to face the truth anymore. The words "I don't want to live like this anymore" spill out. Her hands form into fists and tears are streaming down her face. Does anyone hear her? Will she be like this forever?

A beam of light shines onto the girl's face. She basks in it, feeling its warmth, the sheer hope that radiates from it. Are you ready to let go of everything? To let go of the old and embrace the new? A voice asks

I just spent twenty minutes watching an army of ants carry food back to their home. The process was fascinating to watch. It started like this: I woke up, said my affirmations, and meditated. I went to make breakfast, and then I had the idea to sit outside and just enjoy myself there. 

I put soft jazz playing in the background, and I just sat there eating and looking. I chose not to go on my phone, for some reason. As I was taking the last bite of my patty, a small crumb fell to the floor. I shrugged my shoulders and moved on. After that, I had my sketchbook with me, so I just poured my thoughts onto it, and I looked down again and saw, like, a bunch of ants surrounding the crumb on the floor. 

At first, I smiled because they reminded me of Pikmans, but after I just watched and watched. Something so small to me was massive to them. I watched them struggle to move it, and they ended up moving it twice before I decided to help. I broke the crumb into tiny pieces so it would be easier for them to take it back home. 

They did exactly that. There were about five groups surrounding each crumb, and they got to work. It’s like I saw their thought process. I figured out where they came from, one at the outer edge of the patio, and a shortcut that led straight to the crumbs. I watched each group try to go through the shortcut one by one; some succeeded, others had to take the long route. 

I looked around them and saw that there were more ants, who were just scattering around and not helping, but I realized they were just scouting the area for more food that they could take home.  I just thought, wow, they saw an opportunity and took it. It wasn’t easy for them, but they kept going; they didn’t give up. Even when I broke the crumbs into smaller pieces, yes, they ran for their lives, but they ended up coming back and getting back to work. 

I just thought it was fascinating to watch the whole process. When they tried to go to the shortcut route and realized it was too narrow, they backed up and took the longer route to get to the destination. Sometimes it’s like that.  Sometimes we have to backtrack a few steps and take another route to get to our destination. It may take us longer, but it is not just about the destination; it’s about the journey and learning from it. 

I've awakened, and yet I feel myself slipping back to old habits. I need to figure out which way to go because I am standing at a fork in the road. The decision is overwhelming me, so I revert to not taking any. go back to what's comfortable, what’s suitable. 

I’ve tried, I really tried. I tried going sober for a month, deleted social media from my phone, and also tried to challenge myself to do something creative every day. Do you wanna know how long I lasted? Seventeen days! I don't know, maybe it's the affirmations I did in the morning as soon as I woke up, or the meditation right after, but somehow I am not mad. I'm rather proud.

If you told me a month ago that I would be sober for seventeen days, I wouldn't believe you at all. I couldn't even stay sober for a week. That's how badly I wanted to be buried instead of present. So what happened? I got a taste of my bad habit and I fell into a hole for a week. It was like my brain was screaming “higher!” “HIGHER”. It felt okay,  but it wasn't like “fucck, this hits”. I wasn't really satisfied but honestly, I know why,

I failed sobriety for a month. Bummer. It would've hit better if I could've actually lasted a month.

I tried to be creative every day, but man it was hard! Do you remember those superhero shows where the hero loses their powers and so they are just back to being human and they try everything in their power to get their power back?  That's me but I didn't get them back, that's me but it's been three years since I had my powers. 

I tried I really tried. I would wake up, look in the mirror, and say the affirmations I wrote on it, and after I do a 5-10 minute meditation then I go and read two chapters and I am ready to start my day. I think that's when things went wrong. In my mind, I am like, " Okay, let's do this”, I don't do it; instead, I just end up doing another activity in the comfort zone of my room/home. 

I felt like an imposter and honestly, it's because I wasn't following the voice in my mind, and because I was constantly dodging it, the voice went quiet. After that, the days were getting more confusing, I didn't know what to do between writing and painting, making brackets, and skating. 

Maybe that's the problem. Every morning I would look in the mirror and say “I believe in myself” but turn around and not trust the voice in my head. The voice led back to my powers (I would like to think).  I didn't trust that I could do this. Every day it was getting hopeless for me to continue but somehow I did. 

It’s like I’ve awakened from a long, bad dream, because I am looking at myself clearly. I’ve always hated myself, always. I hated the way I looked, I hated the way I talked, weighed, walked, and acted. For as long as I can remember, I made myself small so I would go unnoticed. Sure, my plan worked, but it didn’t satisfy that hole in my heart. It didn’t bring me any feelings, just numbness, and I was desperate to feel something again. That’s when self-harm came into play. 

Self-harming was everything, piercing into the skin, and feeling a sense of euphoria come through. So I kept doing it. “It’s okay,” I would tell myself, “I am only hurting myself, it’s really helping me more than hurting me.” I was only fooling myself, but it was okay because that's all I was doing. I was not partying or doing drugs; I was just doing what I always did: School, reading, writing, filmmaking, etc., but with a tad of self-harm. 

I had my morals. I hated drugs, especially how they made people act. I found it repulsive and just disgusting. Like, why would anyone not want autonomy of their own body? You’re not thinking straight, and you’re just a mess. I remember promising myself that I won’t do that, just straight-edge for life. The only problem is that I’ve never tried it, and I was definitely never confident in myself.  

When I first tried it, it was fun and like a little silly thing to do, like it made me feel weird and kinda euphoric, the same way self-harming did. Soon, I noticed that I started to self-harm less and less, and honestly, that should be a big achievement, right? But no, instead, I replaced it with getting high all the time. I finally understood why people did it. I always escaped reality with my arts and self-harming, but getting high? That is like you’re in an entirely different world.  I didn’t have to be present for nothing, for no one. So I started doing it everywhere, family outings, with friends, just anywhere I didn’t have to actually be present for (Which is all the time).

So I replaced one addiction with another? To be honest, there was a point in time where both addictions came together, and that was just….. not good. It felt amazing, but I didn’t have the control to know how deep to go, so I ended up going too far at times.  At this point, I was in a state of mind where I no longer cared. I was already supposed to be dead, and I didn’t plan for the future, so here I am just… surviving.  

I did enter a small period where I entered spiritually and began the journey to find myself, and it was going good, but to be honest, I was much more comfortable not being present all the time. I really couldn’t see myself as happy and free. I already had other problems with self-image before I got into self-harm and drugs, so there was no possible way that I could come out a new person, especially when I’ve been feeling this way for years. 

I never saw myself as anything special, so a girl who could make it on her own. With the help of my parents, I know I would be okay in the future, because they would make sure that I have some kind of comfort in my life. Honestly, now that I’ve awakened and I realized that maybe I should be present way more often, I still want to die. 

The drugs were masking a way to keep me alive.  I still want to die, isn’t that crazy? It’s not, really. I did promise myself that I would off myself at a certain age, but I am still here. When I hit that age, I made a new promise. That I would give myself ten more years before I off myself completely. I have eight years almost seven years left.  The difference is that I would make a life for myself before I leave it. 

A love-hate story between the monster under the bed and the monster in the closet.

Sea green is spread throughout the room, and trinkets of seashells are placed in slots to make it seem like a mermaid hideout. Little six-year-old Jacob enters the room. He walks over to his dresser and pulls out his shrimp-infested pajamas. A grin dashes across the boy’s face. He couldn’t wait to put them on and become one with the sea. “Jacob, don’t forget to brush your teeth!” A voice cries out. 

“Okay!” Jacob’s mouth forms into a pout, and he sets his shrimp PJs down. He happily skips down the hall to the bathroom and performs his duty. Mere seconds later, under Jacob’s bed, a dark figure lies, a set of eyes appearing out of nowhere. 

“Do you think he’s gone?” The figure asks, it swooshes from one end of the bed to the other. 

“Why are you asking me? You obviously heard him leave the room,” A voice spills out. On the far end of Jacob’s room, there is a big arch with a drawer in the middle, splitting it in two. The drawers are overrun with walnut wood. Each dresser had a pink quartz knob that established its purpose. 

A dark shadow moves from arch to arch, its yellow eyes blurring by. “You don’t have to be a bully about it. I was just asking a question." Henley scoffs. He swooshed back to the other end of the bed. 

“And, I was just stating the obvious,” Grisly snaps back. He moves back to the first arch that’s facing directly in front of Jacob’s bed, glaring at Henley. 

“Slug”

“Ant”

“Pea-brain”

“Half-wit” 

“Why you-” Henley, who’s too angry, caves in. Shrinking down to the size of a pea, “I have nothing else to say to you.”

The handle pushes down, and Jacob rolls into the room. He stops, extends his arm, and points to the sky. The other arm hangs down. He shuts one eye and grunts a smile. “Heh. Now I can play until bedtime!”

Jacob drops to his knees, crouches under the bed to grab his gaming device. He stands up and twists his hips in excitement. Jacob hops on his bed and turns on his device.

“Jacob!” A voice yells out, “I know you’re playing with your game. You spent only a minute in the bathroom." His body jolts up and freezes.

“Noo..I did more than that!” He replies, He places the games down. Jacob was too uncomfortable to play with it now. She might come up any second. 

“Jacob!!” The woman shouts out, “Go brush your teeth. You did not do it!”

Jacob's eyes widened. He jumps out of bed and crunches down by the door. He pulls down on the handle and peels the door back. He peeks his head out, “But, I did mom. I really did!”

“Jacob, If have to come up there- In fact, I am coming up to check.” The mom yells. He jumps and dashes to the bathroom. Leaving his ocean floor. 

Shadows overrun the helms of the drawer, inching Grisly out of his barrier. “Hensly,” He starts, “You know I am just playing right? I don’t want to accidentally hurt your feelings. If so, I apologize if I did.” 

The figure falls flat and spreads itself to every inch of the floor, matching the bed’s perimeter. His eyes rolled to the end of the bed. “I know. It just sucks sometimes. This shouldn’t be the only way to communicate.” The end of Hensley’s body rolls in, and he’s shaped like a USB stick. 

“I thought you enjoyed it,” Grisly replies. “ We don’t have to. You know I love you too much.” More shadow overruns the drawer, passing its helm. 

…….

Sober….is a choice. It's a choice that people go towards after they realize how suffocated they've been. I am people, and only because the drug doesn't affect me the same, so unfortunately, sobriety knocks on my door. I am people, but only for a minute. 

Only for a minute, that feels like years because everything is apparent again. The voices, the emotions, my mind. Only for a minute, but I already want to jump back in and swim another lap.

I am people because I recognize that I am suffocating, but I don't care. That's the truth. I am people because I don't want to get better, just higher and higher. I am people because it's right? And I should care? I should look at my state and want to change and do something better, right? 

No. No, just grab my hand and push me in the deep end. The deep end where I drown and mute it all. No voices, no emotions, trying to wiggle their way in. Just nothing. 

I love being consistent. Having the same routine day after day it's like a blessing in disguise. It's like you know what's going to happen.

I love being consistent.

It's like a peace of mind that won't be disturbed while acting on autonomy. I just sit back and relax while my body is doing its thing.

I love being consistent.

You get attached to the things that are there even if it's bad for you. You’ll stick to this routine because there's no way out. If you break out of it, all hell will break loose.

I love being consistent….

The moon is something I have always wanted to be. Something so beautiful and raw.

The fact that it passes through eight lunar phases and still remains beautiful. 

I want that.

The fact that somewhere in the world there is someone who walks outside and admires its beauty every night.

I want that. 

The sun shines behind it making it more bearable to look at. Allowing its light to help us in ways we couldn't understand. 

I want that.

I plop on my bed and look at the time displayed on my phone— 10:00 PM, February 14th. What a shitty day to be single on, I roll my eyes and go on Instagram and see Maddy’s photo be the first one on my feed. There she is with her blue eyes glistering through with a light smile, posing with… Kyle. Shit, I forgot that she was dating Kyle. Out of everyone, why Kyle? She could literally date anyone else… she could’ve dated me. 

“Wow Yelena, that was cringy,” I say out loud. I’ve never told Maddy how I felt, so I am just her best friend for now if I ever tell her how I feel. My phone pings and I look to see the name displayed, it was Maddy asking how it was today.

It was good, you know, getting homework done. You?

Maddy: Ha! Nerdy as usual. I had an awesome date with Kyle but I will spare you all the details until we meet up.

Ha, can’t wait!

The thing is, I can wait. I can wait until I am on my deathbed. I hate when she talks about Kyle, it makes my blood boil. I can treat her better than how Kyle treats her. It’s over now, the only thing that matters is that she’s happy. Maybe the monster under my bed will take me on a date.

“Hey, the monster under my bed” I joke “Wanna be my valentine?” I laugh and turn to my side and keep on scrolling down Instagram. 

“Really?” a voice speaks out

Feeling the cold breeze brush up my skin as I take another sip from my coffee. I observe the birds soar through the French blue sky like they haven’t a care in the world. What I would’ve done to roam as freely as they do. I redirect my eyes to the novel I am reading and continue to read. Before long a dark shadow overpowers me, causing everything around me into a darker saturation color. 

“Hey, remember me? Peru 1821?”A voice spoke.

I advert my eyes from my novel and to the voice that spoke. My eyes widen, the book falls out of my hand. Those honey brown eyes bring me a nostalgic feeling. He was tall and fit with his fizzy brown tight coils slightly bounces when the wind swerves between us. The sun lingered on his rich copper brown skin, making him show off a radiant soft glow.

“Xavier?” I slowly creep up to him making sure my eyes aren’t playing tricks on me. Both corners of his mouth extend into a smile, and he extends his arms and hauls me in for a hug. 

“It’s been a while Reneé, two hundred years to be exact’’ He chuckles. Xavier sits on the chair in front of me and takes a sip of my coffee. I observe how the stubbles on his chin formed into a neatly trimmed beard, if it wasn’t for those eyes he would’ve been unrecognizable. 

“Nice beard,” I commented, “I thought you hated them?” 

“Well Reneé, that was two hundred years ago, some things changed” He calls on the waiter and orders a cup of coffee like he didn’t just drink mine. 

“What are you doing here?” I asked. 

“Why? Not surprised to see me?” not surprised? I’m more than surprised to see him. The last time I saw Xavier, we were running through the forest from state troopers because we just walked into their office and had a feast. Who knew state troopers tasted so good. After running for a while, we were cornered to the edge of a cliff. We put our hands up and surrender. I looked behind me and saw that it was about a thirty-foot jump if we were choosing to escape. Xavier must’ve read my mind because he started nodding his head. 

“Enough!” one of the state troopers raised their shotgun. We backed up until pebbles of dirt fell off the cliff, Xavier and I exchanged looks and I knew exactly what he wanted to do— jump off. 

‘’One’’ he counted. 

The state troopers load their shotgun.

“Two” 

We joined hands.

“Three!” 

BANG. A shotgun goes off from one of the troopers. I looked down at my shirt expecting blood bleeding through but it seems like they missed. A droplet of blood tickles to the ground, my eyes widened as soon Xavier starts gasping for air. He looks down at his hand concealed with blood and looks at me and mouths the words I'm sorry. He leaned and fell off the cliff. I screamed, reaching my hand over the cliff, hoping that some miracle would reunite him back into my hand. The state troopers hauled me away as I kicked and screamed his name. 

I focus my attention back on reality,“ I thought you died?” I can feel the tears trying to make their way out. I look down at my book.

Xavier grabs my shirt “You never even bother looking for me!” 

A single tear streamed down my face, how would I come looking for him? I didn't think he would survive the fall. I look into his honey eyes that’s filled with anger

The book was swaddled in beaten leather where you can see the finest strings start to diminish. Stains settled on almost every page as they moved into a new home, and the beige color overcame the pages, telling me this book is not new. The glossy feeling rubbing against the tips of my finger as I turned the pages of the book brought me a nostalgic feeling. The first piece of writing I put out to the world a thousand years ago found its way back to me. I bring myself to smile at the ownership of that book. “Such a fine book isn’t it?”