hesitatingspirit

[hesitatingspirit]

Mother

sometimes it’s worse than watching someone die.

it's worse because you're right in front of me;

it’s worse because you grab my hand and tell me it’s you,

and while my eyes may deceive me,

my soul never will.

“

a part of me died today when i thought of you:

i thought of how i have mistreated you,

how i have made you cry,

and how you have more than returned the favor–

more and more than returned:

your words leave me inside out and hollow.

i’m melting on the kitchen floor when i see you

you walk in like normal,

stepping over my dissolving body,

my dissipating organs,

my evaporating blood,

my cracked and broken smile.

at least i get to see you, right?

who cares if i’m falling apart!

i promise that i’ll be fine!

just pick up my pieces, it’s easy:

gather me back up

just shape me into anything at this point.

i promise i won't break again

but you are leading me through a complicated dance

ballerina feet tiptoeing on eggshells,

twirling effortlessly, like you've done this since birth,

and watching me stumble and fall

just like i said i wouldn't. 

now you are standing over me

and i can’t help but feel terrified

for i know you would never strike me:

it’s your words that hurt so much worse,

that cut deep into my soul

to leave a perfect scar in the shape of your face

chaos ensues and the routine begins again:

by the end of it all, i am broken into a million pieces,

still smiling on the cold ground as if there is hope.

but as i watch you walk away,

muttering nothing but a cold “sorry” under your breath,

i know i have lost you entirely.

my smile fades, and i begin to weep over you once more.

but maybe next time will be better.

maybe.

[hesitatingspirit]

Hypocrites of Hollywood

How could you not be at least a little upset by their betrayal?

Doesn’t it hurt a bit to listen to what he said all those years ago, back when he outlined the worst type of person, the man he vowed to destroy, and realise that he’s simply describing the man he was doomed to become? That stupid Hollywood elite type, overcompensating and overrated with devilish eyes hidden behind expensive sunglasses, twisted and deranged smile curling like his long fingers around a Cuban cigar? Soulless work doesn’t radiate the same stench it used to, and word on the street is that he sold his soul and danced with the devil for a shot to have it all, that he abandoned his life, his values, all of it, just to move across the country and start over with a big name and big plans. And I mean, it doesn’t look too ridiculous if you know the facts. Just take a look at his latest work, where’s the empathy? The compassion? I could paint better blindfolded, but don’t ask me to or we might get to know each other too well in a way we don’t like. I miss the days when we knew nothin’ about nobody and we were all happier that way. Take me back to Adventure Trails before the lot was overtaken by gravel. I miss when your interests weren’t the most important things about you. I didn’t ask for your name, I asked who you were.

You can take a long break from everything and try to find yourself. In fact, I’d encourage it. By the end, you’ll know a lot more about who really loves you anyway. And besides, you have far too many unfinished poems and near-forgotten songs that would love to take up some of your valuable time instead, since it seems like it’s being stolen regardless! I think we need to remember that nothing is truly as important as we all want it to be, and if you ever feel too stressed, try to think about the grand scheme of things. Ask yourself who cares, and you might even find that you don’t.

Imagine that!

[hesitatingspirit]

We Will Never Be Anything, and That's Okay.

There’s something terrifying about the way you can get so used to living your entire life as if you’re fighting a war: I got so used to being walked all over, I became wary whenever I was treated like a human being. The normal became abnormal, and I wasn’t deserving of respect, nor was I even given a chance to earn it. I quickly learned that respect was a luxury reserved only for those who contribute something meaningful to this world, and despite trying my hardest to live an existence that couldn’t be defined as anything but meaningful, the way I was quickly shoved out of any circle I tried to insert myself into proved almost immediately that I was just going to have to accept that this was how it was always going to be.

We could die here, sitting on a porch swing and watching the sun set over a town where nothing ever happens. I feel like I’ve been all over when I barely had a chance to leave to begin with. It was as if I was pulled out of my bed in the middle of a peaceful evening by the hand of a god who had decided it was time for me to see Heaven: I was ripped from my normal life and thrust into something unfamiliar before being tossed right back to the curb. They had their fun with me, then turned me inside out and left me like an argyle sweater from Christmas three years ago, like the scent diffuser I got for my fifteenth birthday and never took out of the box, leaving it on my dresser for years and years to collect dust while I swore I appreciated the gesture. I was a fad, in and out quicker than I came. I was buried in the memories of everything I just wanted to forget, sent out in a canoe and whisked into the afterlife by a flaming arrow shot from the end of the water. I’m less than twenty miles from the hollow world I grew up in, but after all I’ve been through, it couldn’t feel further away. Sixteen miles turns to light years. We only leave our homes when we are forced to: The American Midwest is great at keeping Her prisoners.

Neither of us will go down in history.

Maybe the world will remember me for a few things,

but I think I would prefer to fade into obscurity

I don’t think there’s much out there, truthfully. But I’m not upset about that anymore. I am worlds away from the soulless wasteland I once called my hometown. Once the day came when I was able to wake up and realise that there was no point in leaving desperate voicemails that would sit forever unopened, I think I began to believe in peace. No matter how you spin it, love isn’t always forever. As crushing as the realisation is, I’m glad I’ve been able to let go and break bonds that were doomed to wither away regardless. There is something so strange about finally being able to exist in a place where mutual love is not only real, but it is everywhere I go.

Grateful as I may be for what I once had,

never have I known a life so joyful as this.

I will happily die with my hand in yours, braving long nights and traffic and roommates and trick-or-treaters and cold winters and side jobs just before rent is due and living and rotting in mediocrity, in an America with no dream. I am just happy to be by your side.

‘I was just happy to be a contender’

Even if I die with no name,

i will never complain

because you loved me when the universe shut me out.

we will die watching the sunset.

[hesitatingspirit]

I. Boy v. World

it feels like the world is against me sometimes.

and i dont know how to make it clear that i just want to be left alone. say hi my name is adam nice to meet you please dont hurt me im just a boy please i just want to be treated like one of you. you dont have to even talk to me but if you refer to me just maybe say he but if not its okay & i’m still too aggressive. say nothing at all and i’m just too difficult to even bother with at all. loser from the start, this is an eternal summer and you’re god’s least favourite cold-blooded experiment. strap in and enjoy the ride: you’ll be here for a long time.

If I am offended by someone calling me a woman, I am too much. I am one of those trannies that makes everything about them, the spitting image of the blue-haired, big-mouthed, angry-faced caricatures of trans individuals created by the right. If I am not offended, I am making a bad name for my fellow trans siblings by not standing up for myself when people misidentify me. I am normalising the idea that people are allowed to “mess up” on purpose, label me as whatever they want. I can never win: The only way would be to never get misgendered again. To not even have it be a possibility…

But we all know that this can never happen.

No matter what I do, I am always wrong,

because what did I expect when I chose to do this?

I mean,

Everyone knows how the world feels about people like me.

What DID I expect?

Would it have been easier for me to just stay a girl?

Easier for which one of us?

The world is run by spiders weaving complex webs of lies and careful misinformation, all vague enough to seem true to those who only catch the news in passing and parrot it at work, conversing at the water coolers. But being wrong is a disease, and baby, it's contagious: Mask up and shut your mouth and maybe even your ears too.

They are just trying to provoke me. They want to make me step out of line, so when I finally say “hey im a bit uncomfortable” They can finally say

I knew there was something about him!

He is one of those, he lied!

He DOES make his identity his whole personality!

No. It seems that my identity has become YOUR personality,

because my gender defines everyone but me:

The way people react to my face usually tells me all I need to know.

I can recognise a cold gaze from around the corner,

through a brick wall and from a mile away

I'm a psychic, honey, and I'm never gonna change,

so dont shoot the Messenger, okay?

and it goes like this it goes

boy with mustache makes a face when stranger calls him a girl

boy with mustache apologises for the trouble in case stranger noticed

stranger scoffs i dont see why it's such a big deal you can't expect everyone to understand

boy says i know and i’m sorry

boy goes home and forgets what he looks like.

It kinda goes like this:

different place wake up with a different face who am i today well everyone sees different things

but you know me i ride my own wave, this is My summer soundtrack

i am a skateboarder i am a stoner i am a rockstar

i am a bleach blond baby boy abandoned by god and i will never die again

mask after mask name after name

another ring around my eyes after another night awake

bags full of sleep deprived weekends staying busy with a racing head

lids heavy with the memories of endless nights

it’ll weigh me down ‘til i’m lowered into my early grave

and all the brick roads and sunsets up in my favourite singer’s hometown will never hit me the same

ghosts see the world differently,

ever so slightly colourblind

translucent lids half-covering eyes that have grown so tired from all they’ve seen

an eternity an observer

an eternity more to go

the people who care what you look like or hate what you listen to aren't really people that should be in your life anyway. so i don't care too much when they cut me off.

i don't care at all,

i just find it so insane that somehow i'm hurting people by being alive. by breathing.

if i enjoyed the shapes of the words she and her in your mouth if i enjoyed the twang of their sound waves if i could love the way the words hit my eardrums then my existence would be pure, a gift from god and i would be a miracle

but because i stand up for myself

because i have committed the crime of wanting to be happy

i am irredeemably evil

forever unclean,

stain on society and a file best left unopened.

top secret, confidential. don't ask, don't tell, but tell them what you don't know, tell them what you want to think. don't ask, don't tell, but they’ll always ask, and you’ll always tell.

“we don’t talk about her anymore.”

“she went crazy.”

“i heard it was drugs that did it.”

“i heard it was schizophrenia.”

“i think she was into witchcraft.”

god forbid a boy want to be loved: god forbid i avenge my death.

porcelain is so easily cracked,

you don't think i have a right to self defense?

i have to crawl out of my grave because this city is all i know. and this place can get so damn cold.

my rebirth will be slow. it will be terrible. and it is commencing.