violette g.

I was all over you. 

Over you. 

One thing can mean two things at the same time. 

Complications? Always. 

It’s not any fun if it’s not complicated. 

That’s the end destination for my heart and mind. Complication. 

I like to beat myself up. I like the turmoil. 

I was ALL over you. 

Over you, on you, smothering you. 

But I want to be over you. 

Done with you. 

PROVOKE ME. TEASE ME. PLEASE ME. MOVE ME. 

or something. Just something.

I was all over you. 

Over you. 

Two things can mean one thing at the same time. 

Complications? Forever.  

I like the rawness of emotion. 

But only if it’s 

RAW. 

Show me something raw. 

Something. Some thing not planned. 

A journey that lasts 3.2 seconds. 

More. 

More. 

Not less. 

Less is too little, and more is too much. 

Which is better? I don’t know. 

Because I was all over you and over you. 

Everything can certainly mean nothing at all. 

Complications? 

Never. Not when you’re true to yourself.

                                             ___________________

A poem I wrote as an addict, before recovery. Very anxious days. “Complications? Not when you’re true to yourself.” Because it’s true. The more you know yourself and the more you acknowledge the truths around you, the less complicated life gets.

I’m in recovery, after A LOT of inner and interrelational work that’s been put in and that I continue to put in every single day. I really hope any kind of addiction becomes less taboo with time— it’s an invisible epidemic, I would say. No matter what you’re struggling with.

You orbit my space, never clinging onto proximity. Allured by the depths, I always seek to plunge myself into waters  too tenacious for my own good.

Even in the somber depths, you are orbiting my space. Wait just a minute, please— before you sink me in deeper through funnels you create with your spinning motions.

You fail to understand that I am patient. That is a weakness, you see. I fail to understand that your nature is chaotic, and that what is meant to be, will be.

I simply wish my limbs were as quick as my reactions, so I could pull myself out of this inevitable disaster. But certain reactions could sink me in deeper and I would rather think twice than become any weaker. Would I ever forgive myself if I deliver the wrong reaction? I know that I could be my own turbine of darkness.

You orbit around me and yes, it submerges me. But I want to be free! So, let me.

Time is endless but our minds thrive off of compartmentalizing.  So we reduce time to specific fragments and assign rules to them,  but we quickly comprehend that doing so won’t award something the sense it’s lacking. How impatient we can be. 

Change— we have all acknowledged its transformation in some way, and since we may subconsciously enjoy the shadows it ordinarily exposes, we expect for Change to transform others as well.  If Change has not modified someone else’s life, we tend to panic for them. We are so quick to judge, no matter the circumstance. Sometimes we will even attempt to embody Change itself, to mold people and situations to our benefit. Self-indulgent behavior, everywhere.

I look outside my window and see raindrops. These forms, too, have changed. They will appear to be stagnant, for some time, full-figured against the glass, but soon enough Change will arrive, riding a warm breeze or beaming with the searing sun, and everything will shift.

Nothing is permanent. 

I still wonder how two people can be together their whole lives, while embracing, at the same time, that nothing is permanent. Maybe that is trust and faith symbolized together. Maybe I’ll never experience that.