prelude to a cough
its not just the fact I get so emo and there's nowhere to cry that you lock yourself in your school bathroom hoping damn hard no one will hear that my neck feels its about ta pop with all the strain.
it ain't even about this morning fucking puking again with anxiety so that I don't cry in the first place that my throat is sore.
and it ain't even about the puking the days before either or the strain of hunching over keyboards in internet cafes to write notes before even beginning a damn essay that spine keeps aching.
the spine, the neck, the back, the feet, the pain's all been there well before christmas and the gifts still stay wrapped under a christmas tree waiting like my body for the pain to go away. and knowing that these flushes all mean there's a cold coming around the corner, anytime soon baby and then there'll be a cough.
Forgive my lack of metaphors today. I've finally written a five page rant to all my good neighbours and that's one thing less to clear out of my mind. Tried writing my 50% of core course mark essay all month that was due and not started today, because everytime it's just been one thing piling on after another. The weight of reading did not shrug off added thought assaults, instead they just weighed down heavier and I'm clearing the pile. So now, oddly I feel lighter. Lighter still with another thought shrugged off that was a nail full of questions that was weighing me down.
The screws turned and it just asked simple questions-you okay? you need some space? would it be possible to see you? Then it started drilling in and all the nightmares kept coming in through the silence. i suppose maybe asking why for the silence. and to fill the silence they made some noise, just repeating and repeating and repeating the questions. and when more nightmares melted every bit of plastic of glowing moonflowers the christmas trees sang for holy knights and the questions turned to cries for help. and then to stop any crying i tried to fill my mind with jokes, with comments, with queries mundane and light to try and get away from the heavy madness counting all the minutes of silence. there is space and then there is silence.
i would give space if there was no silence, if there was real silencing. why must people wait and wait so long to respond when complicated answers were not asked of them? if you ask someone when you can see them then you give space when they respond by accepting their response-whatever it would be-like yes, or no, or sorry really busy can't say, or maybe in two or three weeks really busy right now, or even yes, even if it's an unreasonable hour. but it drills and drills and drills so much noise when there is no answer to silence it, and one minute i say fuck it, get on with work, the next i have plans to smash all my windows, plans to walk into rivers and nothing happens, nothing at all, but the pain of those nightmares still crash and i have not walked into any waters but i feel the waves crash over me.
This morning Papa woke me up with a text because an uncle is nearly dying. 30 years he loved my aunt but she loved him more. he loved her but forgot to love himself, drunk himself so sick that after that she couldn't take it anymore. he never lifted a finger at her, but it hurt her to see him hurting so much and not caring-and now that she left he realised he missed her and made himself sick even more. I know I'm trying not to be like my uncle. And I selfishly think damn if my family are so stressed out about him, why make it worse and give them another person to worry about. so for today a text came to save me but it wasn't yours.
i would like to be in denial. i would like to be in a better state of mind to write journal entries less riddled with cliches, but hope that my life would be riddled with them. Cliche logic like when someone says they care about you and you cry they give you a hug. When someone reads your soul with their eyes and says they can fly you to the mountains and follow you to caves , then it musn't be a difficult task to answer messages and say, i can fly with you , but not today. but it seems harder to lift up a finger than to lift off a wing. i would like to be in denial and tell myself that maybe, maybe it is so so difficult to just give an answer, any answer.
so, forgive me for not being so understanding. even the carpets couldn't make me understand after burning my fingers. let me shake and let me roll, let me unravel each thread of me buried in the garden. Yesterday i had to light incense in my mind there on the doorstep, lit in russian dolls opened out in their sizes and layers. then i had to drag a border of soil and my hair across the threshold and keep them at bay- to warn them they could not curse me. sometimes i wonder if their guardian cursed me-manifesting every pain she imagines i give her: when she told me i deserved it and go bleed, i did. i didn't bleed before then. and now i give her silence because i need space and now he gives me silence because he says he needs space. have i become her? but i cursed the curses and all night my walls heard tongues to say-you cannot curse, and only wished peace for her and peace for myself. so sir, i cannot curse you, only wish peace for you, as i have always done, as i always do.
I will not write letters to you because that would not give you space. I will not call. I write because this is a letter and rambling of sorts into free space- a space that you can visit out of your own choosing. a letter you cannot delete.
there are so many things i can handle alone, things i will carry still but why the unecessary weight of empty promises?
at least the silencing happened when it did. my words now are the echoes from the space left of the nail drilled in my head, and it hurts, and it will have nightmares but at least the noise of that stops. you will have to ask yourself why you need space- is it because you always needed space or is it because of all the noise i caused asking you questions. when i gave you the power of silencing and you didn't take it-don't blame me for the noise. if anyone needed real silencing it was me. I've always offered space, so the question you should not ask me is why I didn't give you space- it is why did you not silence me? and- at what point did you want space- was it after the notes that said merry christmas thinking nothing has changed for worse? why didn't you give me space-space enough for all the noise to stop space by saying yes, no, maybe so, whatever! When there are questions upon questions upon questions there is more noise and noise and noise.
But yes, lighter still, now that I've been given an answer, just an answer to let me know that you are okay and you need a little bit of space. Fine. I just wish you had been kinder letting me know that sooner. It would have just been so much kinder.
And so tomorrow all the christmas wrapping will need unwrapping. i will try or maybe i'll just wont be asked to get ugly vouchers and you'll have to figure out how to deal with it. because tomorrow i will cough again- and i don't know how the same person who asked if he could be there to help out last time it happened, the same person who called to ask then how it all went, to ask if i was okay-how the same person this time round finds that distance in mind is the best way of showing that he really cares. You're not the only one who's fucking scared.
Two years ago I wrote an entry on this for the first time and I find it again today so I will paste it, cos it's a little ironic the same thing happens when an essay is looming behind.
---
metallic cough and yellow magic
gotta do essay , gotta do essay, spent the whole day today just falling asleep and daydreaming instead, daydreaming to buzz a little cough screaming.
in the morning went and you know how it's wierd when a doctor places that cold metal stethoscope thingie however you spell it over your chest, your back and he tells you, okay, give a little cough, give a little cough. and it's that cold metal outside pulsing with the beats of your heart pumping baby deafening baby thumps. anyway today it was all reverse inside out scraping metallic and I hate medical discourses-two little coughs two little coughs and the metal scraping inside pumping again pumping womb thumping I had ta daydream and fill me up with virtual fuzzy dandelions and buttercups to try and put a meadow in my mind. it was nice, I had a nice nap in the library.
----
because now when I've been left alone (different from going on your own)I kinda have to remember how I got through the first time. I gotta ask for blessings from all the sleeping bees. I kinda wish dammit if I had known earlier I could've asked other people to be there in heart and soul-family, friends, you know the usual people who will always be there for you
this time i will have to scream it out even more because there are too many purple satin stains from december, purple memories and purple cloth that will make the steel colder still.
and yeah it's only five minutes. but six years later five minutes getting fucked by a stranger still hurts-what makes anyone think that having anything else strange shoved up for five minutes isn't gonna hurt longer again?
i won't be okay , and although your silence says i'm never okay anyway, i am always less okay without you. i could always love you more and maybe one day that would be enough.
it ain't even about this morning fucking puking again with anxiety so that I don't cry in the first place that my throat is sore.
and it ain't even about the puking the days before either or the strain of hunching over keyboards in internet cafes to write notes before even beginning a damn essay that spine keeps aching.
the spine, the neck, the back, the feet, the pain's all been there well before christmas and the gifts still stay wrapped under a christmas tree waiting like my body for the pain to go away. and knowing that these flushes all mean there's a cold coming around the corner, anytime soon baby and then there'll be a cough.
Forgive my lack of metaphors today. I've finally written a five page rant to all my good neighbours and that's one thing less to clear out of my mind. Tried writing my 50% of core course mark essay all month that was due and not started today, because everytime it's just been one thing piling on after another. The weight of reading did not shrug off added thought assaults, instead they just weighed down heavier and I'm clearing the pile. So now, oddly I feel lighter. Lighter still with another thought shrugged off that was a nail full of questions that was weighing me down.
The screws turned and it just asked simple questions-you okay? you need some space? would it be possible to see you? Then it started drilling in and all the nightmares kept coming in through the silence. i suppose maybe asking why for the silence. and to fill the silence they made some noise, just repeating and repeating and repeating the questions. and when more nightmares melted every bit of plastic of glowing moonflowers the christmas trees sang for holy knights and the questions turned to cries for help. and then to stop any crying i tried to fill my mind with jokes, with comments, with queries mundane and light to try and get away from the heavy madness counting all the minutes of silence. there is space and then there is silence.
i would give space if there was no silence, if there was real silencing. why must people wait and wait so long to respond when complicated answers were not asked of them? if you ask someone when you can see them then you give space when they respond by accepting their response-whatever it would be-like yes, or no, or sorry really busy can't say, or maybe in two or three weeks really busy right now, or even yes, even if it's an unreasonable hour. but it drills and drills and drills so much noise when there is no answer to silence it, and one minute i say fuck it, get on with work, the next i have plans to smash all my windows, plans to walk into rivers and nothing happens, nothing at all, but the pain of those nightmares still crash and i have not walked into any waters but i feel the waves crash over me.
This morning Papa woke me up with a text because an uncle is nearly dying. 30 years he loved my aunt but she loved him more. he loved her but forgot to love himself, drunk himself so sick that after that she couldn't take it anymore. he never lifted a finger at her, but it hurt her to see him hurting so much and not caring-and now that she left he realised he missed her and made himself sick even more. I know I'm trying not to be like my uncle. And I selfishly think damn if my family are so stressed out about him, why make it worse and give them another person to worry about. so for today a text came to save me but it wasn't yours.
i would like to be in denial. i would like to be in a better state of mind to write journal entries less riddled with cliches, but hope that my life would be riddled with them. Cliche logic like when someone says they care about you and you cry they give you a hug. When someone reads your soul with their eyes and says they can fly you to the mountains and follow you to caves , then it musn't be a difficult task to answer messages and say, i can fly with you , but not today. but it seems harder to lift up a finger than to lift off a wing. i would like to be in denial and tell myself that maybe, maybe it is so so difficult to just give an answer, any answer.
so, forgive me for not being so understanding. even the carpets couldn't make me understand after burning my fingers. let me shake and let me roll, let me unravel each thread of me buried in the garden. Yesterday i had to light incense in my mind there on the doorstep, lit in russian dolls opened out in their sizes and layers. then i had to drag a border of soil and my hair across the threshold and keep them at bay- to warn them they could not curse me. sometimes i wonder if their guardian cursed me-manifesting every pain she imagines i give her: when she told me i deserved it and go bleed, i did. i didn't bleed before then. and now i give her silence because i need space and now he gives me silence because he says he needs space. have i become her? but i cursed the curses and all night my walls heard tongues to say-you cannot curse, and only wished peace for her and peace for myself. so sir, i cannot curse you, only wish peace for you, as i have always done, as i always do.
I will not write letters to you because that would not give you space. I will not call. I write because this is a letter and rambling of sorts into free space- a space that you can visit out of your own choosing. a letter you cannot delete.
there are so many things i can handle alone, things i will carry still but why the unecessary weight of empty promises?
at least the silencing happened when it did. my words now are the echoes from the space left of the nail drilled in my head, and it hurts, and it will have nightmares but at least the noise of that stops. you will have to ask yourself why you need space- is it because you always needed space or is it because of all the noise i caused asking you questions. when i gave you the power of silencing and you didn't take it-don't blame me for the noise. if anyone needed real silencing it was me. I've always offered space, so the question you should not ask me is why I didn't give you space- it is why did you not silence me? and- at what point did you want space- was it after the notes that said merry christmas thinking nothing has changed for worse? why didn't you give me space-space enough for all the noise to stop space by saying yes, no, maybe so, whatever! When there are questions upon questions upon questions there is more noise and noise and noise.
But yes, lighter still, now that I've been given an answer, just an answer to let me know that you are okay and you need a little bit of space. Fine. I just wish you had been kinder letting me know that sooner. It would have just been so much kinder.
And so tomorrow all the christmas wrapping will need unwrapping. i will try or maybe i'll just wont be asked to get ugly vouchers and you'll have to figure out how to deal with it. because tomorrow i will cough again- and i don't know how the same person who asked if he could be there to help out last time it happened, the same person who called to ask then how it all went, to ask if i was okay-how the same person this time round finds that distance in mind is the best way of showing that he really cares. You're not the only one who's fucking scared.
Two years ago I wrote an entry on this for the first time and I find it again today so I will paste it, cos it's a little ironic the same thing happens when an essay is looming behind.
---
metallic cough and yellow magic
gotta do essay , gotta do essay, spent the whole day today just falling asleep and daydreaming instead, daydreaming to buzz a little cough screaming.
in the morning went and you know how it's wierd when a doctor places that cold metal stethoscope thingie however you spell it over your chest, your back and he tells you, okay, give a little cough, give a little cough. and it's that cold metal outside pulsing with the beats of your heart pumping baby deafening baby thumps. anyway today it was all reverse inside out scraping metallic and I hate medical discourses-two little coughs two little coughs and the metal scraping inside pumping again pumping womb thumping I had ta daydream and fill me up with virtual fuzzy dandelions and buttercups to try and put a meadow in my mind. it was nice, I had a nice nap in the library.
----
because now when I've been left alone (different from going on your own)I kinda have to remember how I got through the first time. I gotta ask for blessings from all the sleeping bees. I kinda wish dammit if I had known earlier I could've asked other people to be there in heart and soul-family, friends, you know the usual people who will always be there for you
this time i will have to scream it out even more because there are too many purple satin stains from december, purple memories and purple cloth that will make the steel colder still.
and yeah it's only five minutes. but six years later five minutes getting fucked by a stranger still hurts-what makes anyone think that having anything else strange shoved up for five minutes isn't gonna hurt longer again?
i won't be okay , and although your silence says i'm never okay anyway, i am always less okay without you. i could always love you more and maybe one day that would be enough.