“You’ve Changed”

It’s like something took hold of you, a monster of greed,

A monster of pride and high self esteem.

You wallowed in lust for a person that wasn’t there.

You spent hours in your closet searching for the prettiest clothes to wear.

 

Hour after hour, we would hear your big mouth talk,

Over and over you talked about your perfected walk.

It seems so distant but I remember when,

You would see me fall down and pick me up again.

And sometimes at night when my room goes dark,

I wonder what happened to the girl with the ki

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Someone Told Me …

  • Someone told me that they loved me. I was sitting at my desk, bored to death when she turned around and told it to me matter-of-factually. I waited for a happy tingle to consume my being, but instead I smiled awkwardly and looked away. It’s hard for me to tell someone “I love you”, even when I love them back.
  • Someone told me I looked beautiful. The “camp crush” of the year told me in a middle of an awkward conversation. We didn’t really talk much after that, but it made me feel better to know that I’m not as ugly as I thought I was. It was nice to know that if I put some effort into my appearance, I won’t disappear.
  • Someone told me I’m not good enough. When I told someone I care about my next steps, they told me that the profession that I’m going into doesn’t fit my character and that most likely I’ll change my mind, like I always do.
  • Someone told me I’m not stable enough. I know that I’m sad most of the time, but just because I’m sad doesn’t mean I’m not capable of doing great things.
  • Someone told me I’m not smart enough. My grades aren’t good enough to be considered “intelligent”.
  • Someone told me I’m not try enough. Can’t they see that I’m trying?
  • Someone told me I can never do anything right. 
  • Someone told me I will never do that. 
  • Someone told me I’m too quiet. 
  • Someone told me I’m OCD. 
  • Someone told me I look ugly. 
  • Someone told me … 

It’s hard to think positively when negative thoughts overcrowd your mind. But take a deep breath, clear your mind, and start again. Good thoughts will come.

A Table for One

Arguably, my second year in high school was intolerable. Imagine being hyped up the summer before, prepared to leap into a year stuffed full of success, only to find out that you’re going to be eating your lunch alone.

On the first day of school, I was nervous but I was also determined. I would would walk into that lunchroom, sit next to a group of people and become their friend. Then, I would have no worries for the remainder of the year. But I quickly realized that life doesn’t work out that way. When I sauntered into the lunch room and tentatively sat down at the edge of a table, loneliness climbed on my back and attached itself to me. And as if I were some disease, everyone avoided me. I sat there awkwardly, surrounded my empty seats.

The next day, I tried again but no no avail. This time I was surrounded by sweaty ninth grade boys who acted as if I didn’t exist. So naturally, I got up and walked away. The smell was overwhelming.

So, rather than facing my own fears, I decided to go to the library during lunch instead. I would make my lunch the night before school, and wait till my fifth period to eat lunch in class. None of my friends asked why I ate lunch after lunch. I don’t think any of them wanted to hear my answer. So I pretended that everything was alright.

But it’s hard to hide pain. I became emotionally unavailable, constantly irritated, and sensitive to the events that would happen around me. I would ignore friends for days, isolating my self more than I already was. And before I knew it, self-hatred and anger consumed me.

 

Eating lunch alone in high school isn’t fun. Nor will it ever be.  The days that I actually had to eat in the lunchroom were the days where I would sit on the lunchroom floor in the far corner, begging God to make me disappear. However, those were the days that I grew stronger. The days were I learnt that it was okay to be alone. Because of my experience in 10th grade, I have no fear of being alone in situations that I can’t handle, but now I have a strong aversion to “putting myself out there” and I often find myself preferring solitude. But I’m glad I went through it, because if I never did, I would have given up sooner.

 

Check out A Short: Deep, Dark Places No. 1. Or if you would like, you can read my most recent poem “Quicksand”. Follow me on Instagram here. If you want to scroll through all my poems or even subscribe, feel free to do so.

 

“Quicksand”

Hold my hand,

Hold me, please.

I’m sinking into the sand.

I’m already knee deep.

 

Your grip is loosening.

Your determination is fading.

My strength is declining.

My ears can’t hear what you’re saying.

 

It’s all around me.

It’s covering my eyes.

Where did you go?

Where did you hide?

 

All they can see is my lonely hand.

All you can see is sand.

Hold me, please.

Hold me, I’m sinking.

“Aroma”

Do you smell that?

The smell of defeat?

‘Cause honey it’s beautiful, succulent, and sweet.

Sayonara, to the girl I once knew.

Hasta la vista, adieu, adieu.

Because this beautiful smell,

So wonderful and inticing,

That shimmies from the top of my head to the soles of my feet,

Is the beautiful smell of defeat.

A Short: Deep, Dark Places No. 1

The clamors of the street vendors resonate against the street  walls, causing voices to bounce back and forth, pounding into my ears.

“Buy the new and improved broom that can sweep your house in one sweep,” one vendor calls out.

“Barley for two silver coins,” calls out another.

I stumble through the filthy backstreets with my hands wrapped tightly around my waist, my eyes narrowed to the ground, and my gown dragging on the floor, trying to blend in with those around me. “Aye, girl. It’s not safe for a beaut like you to wander in these streets. I’d travel on the main road if I was you,” a bellowing voice calls out. I look up and see a middle aged man with a large protruding belly, a long beard, and thick grimy hands holding a gauntlet filled with cheap wine.

“What you doing, traveling on these streets?” the man questions.

I shrug and wrap my hands tighter around my waist. The man bellowed with laughter. “You don’t know why you’re here?” His belly shakes uncontrollably and his wine spills out of his gauntlet.

I take a few steps backward and look around cautiously. The streets were empty and the city lights were stretches away. I wandered too far.

The man leans forward and shoves his near empty gauntlet towards me. “Would you like some?” The smiles, showing his blackened teeth. “There’s enough for the both of us.”

I wince as the smell of rotten eggs overwhelms my senses. “No thank you, but thanks for offering.” I take a few more steps back. “I better go home. My mother will be upset.”

I sped away, the city street light fading away as I ventured into the darkness of the kingdom of Mrak. The streets were silent and not one sound was made. The feeling of helplessness overwhelmed me as  I realized that I had no idea where I was or where I was going, yet I walked on anyways. A magnetic force was pulling me deeper into the abyss, promising me no return.

“Catherine?” a voice called out.

I stumbled to a stop and squinted out into the darkness.

“Catherine?” the voice called out again.

My heart pounded erratically. “Yes?” I whispered.

A tall dark figure emerged from the darkness, holding a small candle.

“Conqueror”

Darkness.

Overwhelming and obscuring it consumes me like a fire,

Igniting my desires while sucking the life out of me.

 

It wraps its arms around me,

Whispering that it has found me and that I can no longer hide.

 

Despair.

Shrouding my vision and guiding my footsteps,

Causing my heart to pound in my chest.

 

It knocks me to the ground,

Burying my heart in the vast sea of hopelessness.

 

Fear.

Making my decisions and making me scream,

Eradicating my confidence and dashing my dreams.

 

It removes my options and strips me bare,

Leaving me with half a personality and half a heart.

 

Love.

Burning down my defenses and leaving me wide open,

Filling my heart with incomprehensible joy that couldn’t possibly be for me.

 

It lets people in and reveals the frightened, desperate girl within,

Stretching her arms wide waiting for someone to run into them.

 

Determination.

Taking over my senses and molding me into the woman I wish to be,

Making me queen over my heart and my soul.

 

It sets my soul on fire and my pain bounces off my barrier,

Reminding me that it’s not me but Him who lives within me.

 

I’ve been broken,

Yet I’m still standing.

I’ve been hurt,

But I can still breathe.

 

I’m more than a conqueror through Him who loves me.