i must’ve gotten used to the silence.
i must’ve gotten used to the fear.
how fast can i switch back and forth?
i don’t know—
how ‘bout we try—
maybe so—
i don’t know why—
wait, don’t go—
it’s damn terrify—
huh?
it’s damn terrifying.
I let you take over my life once.
But now
I stand strong.
Feet planted, spirit lifted
I’m here.
Right in front of you.
You no longer have a strangle over my brain, my heart, my organs.
I no longer feed them to you.
The same stories make my heart bloom over and over again.
It’s like the sweet spring and savory summer greeting you under the alcove.
Kissing you with “hellos” on two cheeks, kissing you “good bye” in two weeks.
They must’ve planned this.
Cradled you and let you walk far enough to balance on your two sticks.
Life is so short.
You’re reminded,
Reminded,
Reminded
All the time.
Cliché but true.
Heard so often,
Thoughts misconstrued.
It’s so sudden.
No words ensue.
…
Freeing.
Why do we always seek to be free?
Does that mean we’re always stuck?
Always restrained?
Never enough freedom?
Complaining about how it’s always gone?
Maybe it’ll never be enough.
The taste of bliss is always temporary.
there is some justice.
only some.
justice does not stop here.
this moment is enough
to let us sleep for the night,
to let us feel some comfort, but
but,
but,
but it will never truly be enough.
When will the day come where I don’t have to think of just my survival? Of other people’s survival?
Is there a moment where I am allowed to dream freely?
To truly see all the possibilities?
To be open to dreams I could never even fathom by myself,
because it’s just that free-willing?
The kind of fantasies that dance around each other,
creating new dreams with each step and movement.
They’re so free that they create dreams upon dreams upon dreams,
compounding across realities that you thought you could never reach.
I’d like that someday. somehow. anyhow.
However that could be possible.
I’d gladly fall asleep to that.
Sometimes you’re just upset over all the humans that did wrong to this world,
that there’s no one else to be upset with.
Kind of like how angst is spilling through your fingers, gripped tight into a fist,
and it just leaves you.
Because there’s nothing else to hang onto.
No one else to get mad at,
because you’re already mad at all that exists in the world.
But that’s when you take a breath.
Take a gulp of the air and filter it through your bones
to remind yourself that all of the world’s troubles are not for you alone,
not for you to bear all by yourself.
Your anger is normal.
It is validated.
Don’t forget to bring yourself peace when you need it.
Q: So where has your head been?
CSJ: I think I’m okay, but honestly I don’t know cause I feel like I’m never okay, but my head understands that and so this understanding is what makes me okay. Does that make sense?
Q: Been thinking about the world ending then?
CSJ: Yes. And no. I think the world has already stopped, and we’re always just too late to even notice it.
CSJ: Time is a construct, I guess. So I’ve been telling myself that “the world ending” is just some lie I made up that allows me to sulk indefinitely and not be a productive human being acting for change.
CSJ: But, then again, needing to be productive? That’s another lie capital America tells us to make us feel bad that we aren’t overworking ourselves.
Q: So… the world is ending then?
CSJ: Today, I say “yes”. I’m gonna hope tomorrow is a “no” though.
I am afraid because I feel I won’t be enough.
I am afraid because I feel like I won’t say the right thing.
I am afraid because I don’t want to accept the pressure of having to fulfill your needs.
Breathe in, breathe out. Breathe in, breathe out. Breathe in, breathe out.
I have this belief (or at least I’m trying to convince myself) that the more I speak my fears into existence, the easier it’ll be to get over them.
Or perhaps, not get over, but work through them.
I already speak my goals into existence, because I’m more likely to achieve them and commit to them.
Perhaps talking about my fears will push me to actually unpack them—
undo their neat folds, disguised to make it seem like problems don’t exist to begin with.
I ought to undo all their hiding places—
place my fears stretched out one-by-one and hung on the clothesline.
I should let the wind and sun dry up all the worry embedded into the fiber of their tattered fabrics.
Don’t sit still for too long, letting your fears engulf you. Put them out there and tell yourself:
How am I supposed to think of you so that you don’t scare me anymore?
Carmel 