Kal’s Corner

The passage of time, instead of being a relief, scares me now. I could never be ready

Oh god, I could never be ready

When will what I expected to achieve come true? Oh the potential!

The potential to be something. Anything. Anything more than this

I can’t even write anymore. The pen’s ink dries up too quickly as I lose my confidence yet again

I wanted to be a writer. I wanted to be a poet. I wanted to be a person. I wanted to be

Anything. Anything more than this. Oh the potential! The potential to be something

My therapist told me that I need to feel my own feelings

Apparently, I project the emotions of the people around me

I’m anxious when my best friend is anxious

I’m angry when my mother calls me to complain about my sibling

Hell, I’m even hungry when my dog is hungry

I don’t quite remember when I started doing things like this

She asked if I feel anything when I’m by myself

I realized quickly that I really don’t know

“It’s not necessarily a bad thing!”

Then why am I here in the first place?

Silence after that. I guess it was a bad thing after all

I guess I am kind of a bad thing after all

Round and round, as the stories go

Feeling younger, growing old

Finding reasons to make it okay

Wishing for comfort, wanting to stay

Non-linear patterns of character growing

Mentally sound but insecurities showing

Proving that I’m going to be alright

But cursing and pleading and praying at night

I just need to do very certain things

To hope, to happiness, to tomorrow cling

Until I know I’ll be able to fly

I’ve grown my wings: it’s time I learned why

Thrown onto the napkin with haphazard urgency

As if to say, “Look! Isn’t it cute! You’re in my food!”

As if to say, “Your love sustains even the body I reside in”

I feel the grief in my bones, but it’s not the deep blue or sexy maroon that it usually is

It’s yellow

Blinding, suffocating, “nothing’s wrong! I’m FINE” yellow

My great aunt died (as if I remember the bitch at all)

Apparently, she was racist. She was mean. She was a strange, eccentric old lady

God, do I miss a woman I never met

I remember the smell of her house, the sight of her lawn, the dogs howling and Shrek playing in the background

I remember deviled eggs at a cookout, covered in paprika and warm in the sun

They were yellow too. And they tasted like the metal sink

I’m sinking. Falling into this weird reality of being alive when someone is dead

And the death wasn’t earth shattering or devastating. It was much like the color yellow

It tastes and feels and looks like the inside of a metal sink

Bloody, disgusting, but somehow mundane. Everything amounts to nothing and yet

Nothing feels the same

Hit over the head

It feels somehow familiar, but everything–

Does everything need to change?

In over my head

Therapy weekdays at 11am except for Sunday

Pray the Lord in His kindness has mercy

Kill me, kill me, kill me

Diagnosed with things I can’t see

With shit I can’t believe

Cures that I don’t believe in–

Believe! The Lord has His mercy

Cure me, cure me, cure me

I put away the hatred for just a second today

Retracted those claws at were digging into my skin

Every time? Am I going to do this every time?

All I really need is a little bit!

Little bit of time, little bit of grace

Little bit of fucking rest every now and then

You know what I mean?

How long can someone go without any rest?

Any sense of completion? God, this sucks

That this lack of everything is my own fault

Enemy to no one but myself, I guess

Maybe I really do just need to relax for a minute

Yawn and stretch and let myself just be a person

Self! Better than I’ve been before

Eliminate the factors that contribute to my own views of myself

Let myself feel these feelings and finally let go

Forgive myself for this hatred that is a foundation in my life

Stop me from pulling myself apart

Effortlessly pump the blood in my veins; help me feel alive!

These old bones hate to feel the cold, but You!

You are the warmth that they crave

Speak to me, soft and gentle, like the first time we met

Allow me to cry on Your shoulder

As the tears soak through Your shirt and onto Your skin, I will finally realize that my pain is not poisonous

Let me love You in a way that feels like I’m loving myself

TW// suicidal ideation mentioned

Delicate petals, delicate skin

Razor blades, heavy winds

A choice to choose to die to lose

The chance to find your sunshine daydream

Thrashing about, thrashing below

The same small feeling you’ll always know

Your friends, the end of spending time

A reason to stay, a reason to try

To live, to love and see a way

Beyond the sorrow that ends today

ease into the silence

Mama said it’s okay

let your guard down

dominate those feelings

until all that’s left is relief

until all that’s left is contentment

until all that’s left is me