My Anxiety Talks In Many Different Ways

She walked in and saw her sitting there waiting for her to arrive. On the table a rose. Next to her, other tables. It was a chilly night as it has been in the city. They were both dressed to mark one's memory. She blushed while walking over. Nervously and in a way clumsy sitting at the chair. It was a beautiful view and now both sitting down, she smiled with her lips closed and softly reached out to hold her hand. -You look beautiful... I hope it's been enough time for you -I should have known -There was no way you could, my dear. I’m older, I have been into some things… and have seen a considerable amount of trials and errors. You had to try. -I thought of you words -I knew you would… That's why I said them. -I hope I didn’t take too long. -Well, time is relative, but no time you could’ve taken would’ve been enough for me to keep you off my mind. I just played the waiting game. I knew that once you were back from that place you wouldn’t want go back to it again. She intertwined her fingers onto hers. A waiter came to ask for the order but decided to leave after seeing those two souls locked in. -You don’t think I made a mistake? -There are no mistakes in love, There are lessons to be learned. -I’m worried about these lessons. -This old dog? If I have any left that are yet to be learned, I’d rather learn them with you. -But… -But..? -My illness…. -What about it? -It’s too difficult of an illness…I can never be the woman who you have been with and even if I could, I’m certainly not on any level right now. I can’t even help with this restaurant bill. -You will never have to worry about this stressful word you seem to cling on to. -What word? Illness? -No, bills. She scratched her head, sighed and looked at the view. She opened her mouth to say something but was interrupted - The woman I want is everything, But not boring nor mundane doing mundane things everyday. Silence took over. She looked troubled and once again opened her mouth to say something but couldn't and she continued

-I read about it. -My last piece? -No. Your illness. -Terryfing isn’t it? -Intriguing. -Frustrating, I say. -I imagine it would be. -To me….adventure. -You find that intriguing? -Of course, it’s always something new even when something old is happening. It’s exciting sometimes even… I never know what will happen. Pushes me to relearn and practice what I know or reinvent myself.  -That’s not scary? -I think it’s scarier to think of living a life where I cannot share what can be shared with you. -I don’t know…. -I’m aware. I don’t think you are supposed to baby, Not right now. -I don’t even think I can eat. -It’s okay, there’s a “to go” option. The attempt to make a tiny break of ice failed, even though she was trying her bangs and hair could not cover her frown. …. She got up, pulled a chair and sat next to her. She smelled her neck, and moved some of her hair behind her ear. In a soft tone she tried again -…Listen to me…I know you are processing a lot of things. Any normal brain would have a tough time processing that ordeal, let alone my baby girl… who has these fragile brain connectors… I know you don’t know and all I ask is…Do you know… maybe.. perhaps … if I can have the pleasure of laying beside this beautiful, intriguing, frustrated and fragile brain tonight? Her eyes looked to the side and a smile came out. She gave her a kiss and held her hand tight. -That I know. Yes. Her frown was gone. She kissed her neck one more time, turned her face, looked deep into her eyes and kissed that dark red lipstick. The woman who worked for the government, failing for the woman who hated it. The woman who had all the money, caring for the woman who had none. The woman who at nine am wore suits, taking home the woman who wore a choker and black. The night was calm. Suits and chokers on the ground. Wetted panties dispersed between the sheets. Long hairs, mixing with each other and nipples  binding together. The phone rang early in the morning, waking them up briefly. A whisper and fingers scratching those short bangs.. -Go back to sleep -What time is it? -Time for you to rest more. -You’re leaving soon? A kiss was given as an answer. She stuck her tongue out and licked her lips kissing her again. Her hands moved from her neck down her hips pulling her closer. She could hear breathing changing slowly. Fingers went in. A moan was let out. She put her back to sleep. And made sure to suit up quietly. She held onto the her heels until she could close the door behind her. A piece of paper with a note was left on the table of the hotel addressed to her baby girl. “ Dear B bb,                       Live.                                                 Love, M.P ”

At the cliff, I tripped and fell. 

It’s my fault for not being more careful. It’s my responsibility to look for what’s dangerous around me. 

I focused so intensively on looking up, that I didn’t look down. 

Matter of fact, I should have looked up and down. Right and left. I should have been more careful, I repeat in my head. Silly, who would’ve thought that it would be a sharp wooden stick that would make me fall? 

I wish I had learned earlier. If I don’t know what to do I don’t need to do anything at all. For my sake. For anyone’s sake. 

I now have a safe place I can go to. Somewhere I don't need to be careful. There’s no looking forward, up, down, right or left. There’s just going. Breathe and Write. If you read this and you’re somehow troubled, listen to me, there’s a place you can exist where you don’t need to destroy who you are and things you love in order to exist. Pen and Paper.

It takes compassion to understand how desperate and lost someone must be to not be careful around a cliff. Compassion. Today, towards myself. I’m hugging myself… I say “ It will be okay “. 

Today, I understand … I have been failed upon as well. I acted out of desperation but he acts with cruelty. Distant, cold, cruel and calculated. 

I don’t love any of that. 

I don’t love him. 

Farewell. I say. 

I hope he has fun with my childhood friends till their hairs are grey. I hope there’s a sense of accomplishment in one’s heart. They were safe ports to me. Years. History. Companionship. Friendship. Gone. Broken. Shattered. The hope now is that anger and need for validation makes it all worth it someover beers. 

When they are your friends, they are great friends.  I'll miss them. I miss it already.

I let go now of all the shared laughs and tears I had with them. 

Lastly, all the shared laughs and tears I had with you.

You were once a great friend too. 

I used to love you. 

Now I just wish you the best. May this wound heal fast.

They told you honey I told you honey Your family told you honey And you told yourself honey Nothing is a loss when the loss is expected I told you I was trouble And I knew you've always made different kinds of trouble I thought it was why you fell love with me When you looked deep into my big eyes with a set of your own 

What a long look 

Do you want to kiss me?

I thought I heard a yes I didn’t hesitate You want it? Have it Claim it it’s yours. But it’s trouble they said I’m trouble as you know that I’m no good. You didn’t care So I learned to not care either. C’est la vie We lived, Now we die The day you buried me. I’m still here throwing flowers onto my troubled past. What a mess I made of us What a mess you made of me. It’s messy how I thought we'd both know how to live in peace inside our troubles. I’m a different woman everyday whether you wish for it or not. Dreaming different futures for us Can I sit on your lap?

Give me a paint brush I said

If you’d buy the hair

I’d wear it You want to kiss me I heard? 

Kiss me. Have it. Claim it, what’s mine is yours. I could have behaved, But I can’t If I’m not yours. I cheated myself. Like I knew I would I made a bet of going extreme Maybe I’m not making myself clear. I’m leaving, you hear? You don’t want to kiss me? You want to explore the city? 

Make your trouble. now I'm no good What kind of roses do I throw for you today? 

Any that goes with my best outfit.  I say

What’s that? 

No I’m taken. Where is he? Dead . . inside me. You caught me They were right. I’m exactly what you said to them. Like a religion everyone repeated those words.

Like a faith everyone believed it. You are no exception. It's always good to pray. How's having peace on the other side my love? I love that you have it. It makes me happy to know. I told you I was troubled. And now you know you are no good . . inside wood. -Bruna Ferreira

J* F*,

I write to you again because I'd like you to know the truth.

The truth is that my anger and frustration toward you are a direct response to what I believe is an inconsistency—sometimes in actions, words, or behaviors—that you have with me. The truth is that I never had consistency my entire life; it fell apart for me when I was four and saw my parents going their separate ways, unable to work on their issues and be the family that any child deserves or dreams of.

Not that long ago in therapy, I realized that what I always hoped for was to be accepted for who I truly am.

In 4th grade, I used to love this boy named Leandro, and I poured all my love into him, only to hear from him one day that he didn’t like me because I was ugly. It was the first heartbreak I ever experienced in my life—and it hasn’t stopped since.

I’ve said a couple of times that I feel used, and that’s half the truth. One half is that, yes, I feel used because, in my experience, people live these amazing and beautiful emotions with me, but then, when things get difficult—whatever the reason, whether it’s my fault or not—I always get dropped. I felt dropped by my parents, by myself, by friends I loved so dearly, and now, at 28 years old, by boyfriends or girlfriends I’ve often so desperately wished to build a life and family with.

This year already started to be difficult when I decided to leave home to come back home. And whenever I thought things were going to be stable, they simply weren’t. I’m not angry because we have arguments or misunderstand each other; I was frustrated by the inconsistency that, regardless of me being my best or worst self, you never truly know if you want me or accept me—with all the challenges that come with being with someone. Especially someone named B* R* M* F*.

I write to you again because, as soon as I heard your audio and wrote you my last email, I started crying and feeling defeated. I always wanted you to want me like Spider-Man wanted Mary Jane. I know he wasn’t always perfect, and I certainly haven’t read all the comics—but that wish to make it work with someone, to make it greater than any challenge, has always been in me. I know you tried to say, “You can come. How long do you want to stay?” But I was already hurt by what I perceived to be an inconsistency and then acted emotionally, punishing you for not standing firm.

And I think it’s my fault for feeling so deeply hurt, because I never even experienced my own parents standing firm with me. It’s hard for me to say what I’ve experienced most in this life—whether it was happiness or pain.

I write this to you in tears because I love you, J*, and I’m sorry if this all feels like a roller coaster. I can blame my disorder, I can blame the past, I can blame what happened Wednesday—but truthfully, I’d rather blame myself for feeling confused. For loving you and wishing to be different. For wishing you could magically know the right words and actions all the time to make things right.

It’s very faulty of me that when you tried to be there, I slammed the door because my ego was hurt. I was no longer looking for a solution, but for someone or something to blame for why it wasn’t going exactly my way. That’s wrong and immature.

Another truth is that when people block someone, it’s much more about them than it is about the other person. It’s just a silly punishment or statement to say what I’m telling you right now: I’m hurt.

But I’ve been hurt and hurting for a long time. Everything about this year has been a challenge, and luckily, I’ve grown a lot—but apparently not enough if I’m blocking the one person I’d like to hear from the most, just because I don’t know how to make it work.

I had a discussion with someone recently that went something along the lines of:

— “Disney ruined me.”

And then I said:

— “Hasn’t Disney ruined us all?”

And I think it’s because maybe we perceive love as being this thing with a manual—that the other person will always act or say the things you hope for so you feel good. The only thing is, life doesn’t work that way. We’re not scripted; we’re human beings. And I, more than anyone, should know how hard it is to navigate emotions.

I write this to you not because I hope to hear back, not to prove you right one more time that this is a roller coaster, but because I need to step down from this position of heat, emotion, and pride to tell you the truth.

That I loved holding your hand again. Looking at your curls, the grey hairs that were coming out, looking deep into your eyes, seeing you smile, kissing you—feeling like a cosmic explosion—and seeing you show up at my house, filling my heart with hope and joy, and finally having you inside me one more time, reminding me what pleasure, desire, and vigorous lovemaking are supposed to be. Lastly, cuddling in bed with you, feeling your soft skin against mine and believing that nothing hiding in the dark was going to get me in the middle of the night.

I wanted to go to S* P* to feel those things again—not for an indeterminate amount of time, not to start a relationship again, fight, or argue—just to feel the love that I know exists between us. I have a life here too, an apartment I adore, and family and friends I have lots of fun with, and I wouldn’t leave all of this for an indefinite period. Luckily, my work I can take anywhere—but not them.

I apologize if that wasn’t clear. On that phone call, I was so confused and in pain from what had happened that I couldn’t express myself better.

I want you to know that the blocking was just another statement of me saying that I’m hurt. So I’m unblocking you as a statement that I’m making peace with the fact that I’m hurt—but perhaps the biggest hurt of all would be for you to be completely unable to communicate with me, and maybe make things right somehow, someday, if that day ever arrives.

We are not a disaster; we’re just somewhat young in the long scale of life expectancy, trying to do the right thing for ourselves. I believe we want to love, but without betraying what’s sacred to us—or what should be sacred for everyone: self-love. I believe we’re trying to calibrate our wheels, and sometimes they explode, and it’s painful to go through putting on a new one and calibrating it all again.

I’d like to make peace with my pain without punishing you or pushing you away.

We’re already roughly 1,013 km apart, so I don’t know how much more space either of us needs to chill out—but I do know we already have it.

Above all, I just wish you happiness and hope that one day we can laugh together about our moments of immaturity, rather than grow bitter about them.

Love,

B* F*

You called me back, and I couldn’t talk much because doctors were coming in and out. At the station, I called you; you picked up, and it was so nice to hear your voice. It didn't take long to see that you're the one who still sees me as me. If I was a cartoon at that moment, the reader would be able to see a cloud above my head and maybe a sun above yours. No longer kids. Talking adult things and how nice it was to giggle. My tight heart loosening up, it had been .... maybe 6 days that I didn't have a single giggle. Sincere giggle. It's hard to forget those. I think it's something that sticks to the soul. I think maybe we had so many of those sincere giggles that it stuck to each other’s soul. In this conversation, you told me to leave him in the past. Furthermore, you told me to leave these playboys from our hometown in the past. All of them. I like how firmly you spoke to me. You knew and I knew something had to stand firm in my head. I also questioned myself why I cared so much about what they think or don’t think of me in the hospital. I was confined in a hospital bed for at least three days. It’s a lot of time to think about yourself. Comfort. I believe what I can say I felt throughout that phone call. Because it’s comforting to feel loved, when you feel surrounded by judging- hateful eyes. You told me to not be like them and forgive them. Most importantly to focus on me. And to stop being so “ fatalist ” On my way back our conversation was in my head. You’ve grown, I thought. I should too. Slowly, her words, your words all started to blend in, make sense and give me a new perspective. Even though it was under a sad circumstance…we were still able to giggle. And oddly I survived. Even more odd that you were there when the first time happened and now at my 4th mark. I don’t feel judged, hated or less loved. I want to promise I will learn from this one. I will learn from this one. I also want to say thank you. I remembered our entire story and adventures together and I thought for a moment if we would meet when our hair is grey. If you’d be the only one who would smile to see me. How neat, is to imagine a future and a nice memory to look forward to. Here are some “ thank you’s ”  I have to say : 1- Thank you for helping me remember. 2- Thank you for helping me let go. 3- Thank you for understanding. 4- Thank you for seeing me. 5- Thank you for an unconditional type of love. By the end of the call, there was a sun above your head and a cloudy cloud with a sun behind mine. I was feeling better for a moment. I needed that moment. The past was noisy, the future was loud but the present was quiet.

Two animals.

Two different animals.

Who got along for a long time.

One day One sunny day a scientist noticed they started to become closer to each other.

Then, they started to eskimo kiss. 

The scientists wrote their notes down.

More time passed and they saw these two animals having sex with each other.

The scientists were intrigued. What was going to become of such interaction? The scientists wrote in their diary that these two animals seemed to be getting really attached. 

On a rainy day, the scientists noticed these two animals were lying with each other. 

They seemed so peaceful together. It was noticeable that the rhythm of their breathing was in sync. 

On another sunny day, something shocked the scientists as they witnessed these two animals biting each other. These two animals were fighting so intensely that they had to separate the two animals. 

The scientists talked and figured they were going to be okay; now they have been separated. 

Another surprise: the animals calmed down and even got involved with other animals, but they never eskimo kissed or got as attached, or the rhythm of their breathing synced. More time went by, and the scientists noticed these two animals became sick. What could be happening? 

The scientists had a hunch; they thought those two animals were missing each other. 

They then decided to put the two animals together again in the same space. The scientists were taking notes from afar. 

The two animals' eyes glowed when they saw each other. Their necks intertwined so tightly. They did their signature Eskimo kiss, had sex, and, like in the beginning, their breathing rhythm was in sync. 

Everything seemed to be okay. It was the right bet. These two animals so clearly belonged together. The connection they had was unique to them, and even when they tried to relate to other animals, it wasn’t the same. Far away from each other, they became ill as if they missed each other. 

Was it possible these two animals just needed some time and space to calm down their nervous system? Was it possible these two animals made a terrible mistake due to their animalistic instinct to protect themselves, and that is why they bit each other previously? 

It was on a cloudy day that scientists saw with their own eyes One of these two animals moved in a particular way that scared the other animal, and then they both became very agitated. One of them became so agitated and skittish that when the other animal came close the agitated and skittish one, one bit the other. When the first biting happened, it was as if there was no going back. They both started to bite each other; it was as if they had forgotten how much they liked one another. The scientists were appalled with what happened; from the outside, it was so easy to see what was going on. Regardless, the scientists decided to separate them again. 

Just like before, within little time apart, they became ill. Scientists decided to test one more time what would happen if they were put in the same space. On another cloudy day, these two animals were together again. To nobody’s surprise, they eskimo kissed, intertwined necks and breathing rhythms synced. Scientists were observing closely. Once again, it happened. One animal moved in a way that scared the other, not long after they started biting but this time, they both seemed so scared. There was blood and biting marks that were going to be on those animal’s skin for the rest of their lives. 

until I saw you again.

Something about you sparked an entire chain of love —

once flushed by devastation.

A universe, a collection of moments

that brought my eyes to shine alongside the stars again.

Butterflies grew in odd places — like a stomach.

Silly laughter became common throughout the day,

and childish memories that never happened

found their way back to me.

⸻

Four hands total — two different pairs,

each with distinct powers of creation.

Yet another bond; one that only those who carry it

understand — the struggle of layers.

You and I… both a beautiful, unfinished canvas,

where each layer needs calm and patience to take form.

⸻

I don’t believe it’s tragedy or devastation striking again.

It’s simply the discomfort of shared space,

accompanied by the sound of the clock ticking.

There’s nothing to fear, there’s nothing to hate.

What’s left now is to patiently wait

Amongst such despise, I find love flooding through the cracks, a snake I’d kiss just so your poison runs through me one last time

How dare I desire you?

Yearn for our paths to intersect,

An endearment with such a tragic ending,

Falling into neglect.

No care or love would matter,

If thrown in a pit that lacks depth.

And I wonder where does our friendship fit in your head