miss-saytr

[miss-saytr]

The smallest thing can make you relapse.

I want to be in control of my pain tonight.

I hate being around you, in this house.

[miss-saytr]

When I found you lying in the grass after the accident, you were taking quick breaths in and out your mouth, and your head was forcibly pressed against your hand against the ground. Despite this, your breathing was gentle and not rushed, just a calm huff on each side. I could hear the birds chirping as I picked you up, and your face was covered in the first color of the rainbow, once a duo of organs that gave you vision lost its parter, burst like a grape. You held your other closed and pretended it did not hurt as much as it did.

I carried you gently in my arms until your best friend arrived with the ambulance. I never got along with your best friend, but I respected him anyway. I could tell he was just as scared as me, and the cooperation to save you was all we could think about, because if we didn’t, it would hurt you more. Despite this, he insisted to pressure the bandages I gave you against your head when I was already pushing down. I had no time to question why you interrupted me to do it yourself, but I would like to think it was because you wanted to feel like you were helping more.

I did not get to see what happened next when the ambulance closed and I watched the destroyed car get towed away. My denial in what just happened did not make me sensitive to the gore I just witnessed. I could not believe what had just happened. I was strangely calm.

Cut to the hospital, I had a water bottle in my hand I wanted to give to you, and your face looked like it belonged to a mummy costume. You did not speak a word, even during the incident, I was afraid you had turmoil to lash out at me, but you were trying to keep yourself calm. “Thank you” was all you said, at least to my memory, when you sipped so much water like a thirsty camel.

Right when I was thinking about your sister, you mentioned after that how you did not want your sister to know what just happened. At least for now. I was quiet too, so I nodded politely. I know you do not have a mother anymore and find it hard to parent your little sister. I digress.

I saw your best friend in the hallway. He did not look like he wanted to start anything with me, which was good. He wanted time with you by himself. I stayed awhile longer until he said he would keep you company as long as he could.

I find it very strange. As I was driving home I forgot what the accident was. It was a hole in my brain. It seemed like I just spawned in after the accident.

I wanted to live in third person. When I see you tomorrow, I hope you’re going to be OK. I hope we can talk more, but I don’t wanna push it.

[miss-saytr]

Picture this. You are stuck in a dark room.

You are in a black room with circular walls that curl up, placing you on the bottom. The exit is across you in a circular shape, the room a thin cylinder on its side. What covers the exit is a fan. This fan has four metal blades, about three to five you stacked tall and wide. The fan is on, but it is not so fast that you see a blur of the blades. It is passing as if you were blinking each half a second. The blades do not blow wind on you.

On the other side of the room is your little brother. You know him, you love him. It is slightly dark, but you can tell it is him. From his side of the room he sees you, and wants to get to you for whatever reason. You both understand that the fan is too fast to be passable, but in the back of your mind, you know something horrible is going to happen to him if you just stand there. How desperate do you have to be to attempt to cross, risking being sliced in half? Will you put yourself back together? Will the blood splatter across his face?

And was he really in danger?

[miss-saytr]

The world outside of my dorm is on fire, the anger of the people raising. And the tears fall out of my eyes as I fear for my life and future.

There’s five people in my room right now. They’re there to cheer me up. And the light is dim and they’re playing music that would fit a slow dance. And they’re sharing snacks with me and trying to get to come out from under the bed as I’m shaking and crying.

“Come on,”

And I take her hand and sniffle. And I’m handed a tissue. They’re playing SpongeBob on the TV. The boys are playing Uno. The music is catchy and upbeat. The girl who handed me a tissue is leaning against me and asking me to draw her something for her.

Today I’m living in this little world we have created in this tiny space if it means I get to survive.

[miss-saytr]

The unhealthy coping mechanisms don’t last forever. The stripes on my arm are for myself and myself only.

I know she wouldn’t want me to do this, but we’re just fighting, right? It’s all just silly, right?

What makes you so mad to act like this today? Why do you make me want to feel bad for who I was born as?

The more that river looks so good to cross. The more that idea of what we don’t know feels so good. Because the stripes make me feel great in the moment, like a brawling tiger feeling alive, the urge to defend myself, the urge to take the feeling physically, the urge to feel something that isn’t this.

I want to be your friend in the way that makes us have fights and make them up and apologize to each other. I know I want to do that, but I can never read you fully. I hate realizing that your flaws as a person aren’t the common obscure ones such as insecurity or quick judgement, but obvious, red blinking lights that you struggle to tangle out of and let embrace because you’re already tired.

I am as guilty as a mouse falling for the trap over and over again until my arms fall off.

But at the same damn time, I love the pain of making sure I’m the one who cuts them off myself.

[miss-saytr]

This thing that I love.

Sometimes I wake up in the middle of the night and panic about my life. I forget the reason I’m staying here, my hormones spiked, I feel like I scream at night and what’s chasing me is the future. The future wants everything and everyone I love dead.

But this… thing. This series. My fixation, my special interest, my obsession, if you’d call it that. It gently cradles me in its fangs and tongue. I feel it reach my body to coat me with all its love, like a jaguar, the spikes on its tongue pulling the hair off my coat.

And the more I just imma wear myself in this beautiful series, the more its weirdness is normalized, the more I fall back into the throat of comfort until I’m in the belly of my obsession and it digests me whole.

This fixation will be the death of me. You know, ‘til death do us part.

[miss-saytr]

it's easier to apply for jobs than ever! so what if you lost your insurance, anyone can get a job these days, even without meds. everyone is hiring! there's a "good employee" shortage!

well you just need to revamp your resume, here's a paid app subscription that can read it for you. rewrite the cover letter they won't read. google jobs in my area and then scrawl through Monster/Indeed/worbly. did you want to save the search? this was posted 98 days ago. over 1 billion applicants! this position is trending.

jobs i actively like doing and get paid for. your search returned no results. easy-apply with HireSpin! easy apply with SparkFire! easy apply with PenisFlash! with a few short clicks, get your information stolen.

watch out! the first 98 links on google are actually scams! they're false postings. oopsie. that business isn't even hiring. that other one is closed permanently. find one that looks halfway legit, google the company and the word "careers". go to their page. scroll past brightly-lit diversity stock photo JOIN US white sans serif. we are a unique, fresh, client-focused stock value capitalism. we are committed to excellence and selling your soul on ebay. we are DRIVEN with POWER to INNOVATE our greed. yippee! our company has big values of divisive decision making, sucking our dicks, and hating work-life balances. our values are to piss in your mouth. sign here and tell us if you have gender issues so we can get ahead of the sexual harassment claim. are you hispanic although let's be real we threw out the resume when we saw your last name.

sign up to LinkHub to access updates from this company. make a HirePlus account to apply. download the PoundLink app. your account has been created, click the link we sent you in 15 minutes. upload that resume. we didn't read the resume, manually fill in the lines now. what is your expected pay grade. oh actually we want hungry people, not people driven by a salary. cut a zero off that number, buddy, this is about opportunity, and we need to be thrifty. highest level of education. autofill is glitching. here is an AI generated set of questions. what is your favorite part of our sexy, sexy company. how do you resolve conflict. will you get our company logo tattooed on your person. warning: while our CEO is guilty of wage theft, we will absolutely refuse to hire a nonviolent felon.

thank you for your interest at WEEBLIX. we actually already filled this position internally. we actually never had that posting. we actually needed you to have 9 years of experience and since you have 10 years we think it might be too many? we'll be texting you. we'll email you. we'll keep your resume. definitely absolutely we won't just completely ignore you. look at your phone, there's already a spam text from Bethany@stealyouridentity. they're hiring!

wait, did you get an interview? well that's special, aren't you lucky. out of 910 jobs you applied to, one answered, finally. and funny story! actually the position isn't exactly as advertised, we are looking for someone curious and dedicated. it's sort of more managerial. no, the pay doesn't change - you won't have any leadership title. now take this 90 minute assessment. in order to be a dog groomer, we need you to explain cell biology. in order to be a copyeditor, write a tiny dissertation about the dwindling supply of helium on the planet. answer our riddles three. great job! we just need to push this up to Tracy in HR who will send it to Rodney who is actually in charge. and then of course it's jay's decision and then greg will need to see you naked and if you survive you'll be given a drug test and a full anal examination.

and of course you'll be hungry this whole time, aren't you, months and months of the same shit. months of no insurance, no meds, no funding, barely able to afford the internet and the phone and the rent - all things you need in order to even apply for our thing. but do it again! do it again and again and again, until you flip inside out and turn into a being of pure dread!

you're not hired yet because you're lazy. there's over one million AI-generated hallucinated jobs in your area. don't worry. with zipruiter, hiring and firing is easier than ever. sign up. stay on-call.

in the meantime, little peon - why don't you just fucking suffer.

[miss-saytr]

I am, metaphorically, a loyal dog. I am throttling myself around in a cage with a chained collar trying to push myself out. Here you are, There you are. What actions you take can’t be stopped or changed by me. I start barking at you to not run away. I chase you. I love you enough to be loyal like a dog.

They say to not jump off a cliff if your friend does, but I want to reach down and grab them to not hurt themself. That is an act of rescue. I am a loyal dog, right?

So why did you cage me up? Why did you leave me barking as you walked away? Where are you going? Will you ever be back?

When they didn’t come back, I was left in the fog. Sad, depressed, lonely. Where do I go now?

So, I found a new person to be loyal to, I felt safe. Until you took out a similar looking cage. Now I’m growling at you.

I don’t care if it takes a deep bite in your arm to save you.

[miss-saytr]

Out of everything that’s happened this year, I’m covered in blood and oil and mites.

The idea that they are still out there without consequences scares me. Horrible people earn titles and those beaten by those people are left to have sand kicked in their face.

They still are out there, using their insecurity to haunt me. I’m dead, I’m frozen, maggots squirming inside my stomach. They cut my shoulder open and the scars are still there. I want my favorite characters to be a tattoo over them.

I want a new body, life, a reason to live, even. Trauma is like sand filling the room. I am a coyote stuck in panic. I am a fox in the bear trap. I am a wolf eaten by the cold.

You’re cruel. They don’t know you are. I want them to all know what you did to me. You nearly killed me. And look at you, using your identity as an excuse to not take the blame for almost killing me. You are so insecure about yourself that you used it as a weapon to not get yourself in trouble and spin the picture. I wonder how many people who are kind and struggle with an identity you share will be knocked down by your lies. You’re hurting them too by making false claims.

You’re out there somewhere, more successful than me, more talented than me, better connections than me. And you’re an awful person. A liar. And because of the rumors you spread about me, they’ll see as you a lamb.

You’re a cunt. A coward. If they all knew what you did, they’d be coming to me to help, or they’re monsters like you.

You are a monster.

You tried to kill me.

And yet they see a halo above you, but it’s only the fluorescent lights inside the college room.

[miss-saytr]

Oh how satisfying it is to see that your actions have consequences. I’d blow you a kiss in your absence but I’ll simply enjoy karma instead.

You may never recognize your hate but you should feel the sting instead. Good.

I need to express myself but it’s been harder. I try not to use excuses and I try not to make myself someone smaller. I am someone that just exists and you are literally telling me you can’t think of any way to respond without sounding like a bitch. I say that’s a fail. I say you need to work on yourself before you talk to others like that. I want to exist and express myself but I feel like I can’t do that. It’s re-closeting. I’ll go back in so you don’t bite me. You’re full of hate and anger. You’re full of resentment and unwilling to change. A part of me is glad the people around you recognize that. I want you to learn the hard way so it bites you as hard as it’s bitten me in the last year.

And I’m glad it’s starting to bite you in a way that slowly sinks its teeth in. You’re so close to recognizing that. Almost, almost self aware of your own hatred. But your ego refuses to accept that.

[miss-saytr]

The deepness in my heart feels as if you glowed and faded away. I reached out for you in the twinkling stars and felt the tears caress my cheeks.

I am alone.

Everything I know out of the way, like how I’m mature enough to handle this, like how my paranoia might be wrong, I just feel despair.

As I cry and weep, the circling comfort of the stray rabbits encircle me to keep me warm. They may not last the winter, but I know I have to myself.

You’re beautiful. I’m dressed in black because you’re beautiful.

[miss-saytr]

Fire encloses you like the petals on a rose. You’re beautiful, gorgeous, worth living for. Your voice is like the first snowflake to land on my nose. The first cherry blossom petal that’s carried in the wind. You’re the feeling of frolicking through sunflower fields as you reach out for what you lost long ago. I want to hold you tightly and tell you to gently calm yourself. You’re an angel, as that’s what your name means.

The world is falling apart, I feel. I know we still have love and cartoons and Swiss chocolate to share. I just want you to hold my hand when the world falls apart fully.

There’s a type of love I’ve been trying to find the word for. It’s that feeling when you’re under the covers crying about the man who hurt you and I hand you a small bowl of vanilla ice cream to eat while you wipe your tears away to make sure your tears don’t get in the bowl. And I show you a meme on my phone about your favorite animal, and you laugh while teary eyed, and you shakily mutter a “thanks” with a small smile. I’m here for you.

I might never make it in the world. I would not be surprised if I died soon. Possibility and probability exist, so I’m aware I’m not the main character. I know myself the best, though. I just waste away my life writing poems on my phone, whether I post them or not instead of doing something productive.

They destroyed the world for us when we came into it, but as long as I have you, it isn’t as bad.

[miss-saytr]

I know starting a poem with “I love you” leads to anything and everything you expect.

But I just can’t hold it in. You make me want to be here on Earth. Every time I see you text back I feel like I deserve my existence. I just can’t contain myself when I know you believe I’m worth it. That’s what love is.

[miss-saytr]

Strange, if you’re in a room with a hundred people including yourself, there can only be one person in the room that you don’t like to make you uncomfortable in front of everyone else there. The context can be something sweet like a crush, or something diminishing like your parent.

Who am I be scared of the negative minority?

[miss-saytr]

I need to express myself but it’s been harder. I try not to use excuses and I try not to make myself someone smaller. I am someone that just exists and you are literally telling me you can’t think of any way to respond without sounding like a bitch. I say that’s a fail. I say you need to work on yourself before you talk to others like that. I want to exist and express myself but I feel like I can’t do that. It’s re-closeting. I’ll go back in so you don’t bite me. You’re full of hate and anger. You’re full of resentment and unwilling to change. A part of me is glad the people around you recognize that. I want you to learn the hard way so it bites you as hard as it’s bitten me in the last year.

And I’m glad it’s starting to bite you in a way that slowly sinks its teeth in. You’re so close to recognizing that. Almost, almost self aware of your own hatred. But your ego refuses to accept that.

[miss-saytr]

Your voice is like lilac petals fluttering past my ears in the wind when the sun rises from behind the snowy mountains. And I can’t fall asleep, but I love it.

[miss-saytr]

Trauma is sticky like gum in your hair and clothes. It’s like if quicksand in cartoons could metaphorically feast on your struggle.

Those who cause trauma on others that receive no consequences will make you feel crushed so subtly every day. There he is, the man that nearly killed me. His haircut triggers me when I see it on other people. I genuinely jump at a style of hair.

Of course he spreads lies about me to cover his tracks. He’s insecure. His mouth and fingers are ugly from the lies.

Going about my day to be reminded of his existence is painful. The people who I thought were my friends left me to believe the lies of someone who continues to make himself the victim when he nearly killed me. Bystanders didn’t want to involve themselves when my life was in danger. Of course I’m mad.

When he finds I had to move away for my own safety, he may take it personally. He may do anything in his power to continue to spread lies to make himself the victim again. And next time, when or if that happens, I am not sitting back. I am defending myself. What else should I use my anger for?