prosebyday

[prosebyday]

I wanted to clear my mind, so I tidied my space. While dusting and reorganizing my bookshelf, a note fell from between two books. Scrawled in his hideous handwriting "I love you so much," signed by a name I filed personal protection orders and police reports over. A year since our breakup, I continue to clean up the mess he left of me, as he still lurks and lingers in the corners of my room. Why is it always my most short-lived relationships that hurt the worst? At least I got out when I did, I've learned from past mistakes. I wanted to clear my mind, but now I'm spiraling over the past again. Removing traces of him and praying that I'm still safe now that my PPO has expired.

What else were you hiding?// Grazia Curcuru

[prosebyday]

The day after my breakup, I grabbed lunch with a friend. First we caught up, then she asked me about the giant bruises on my thigh That had faded significantly in the 2 weeks since the assault, From a deep purple to a light green. I brushed it off, but she didn’t. And before I left that day, I finally spoke about it. Putting it into words makes it real. A problem that demands a solution, My friend kept trying to motivate me to take action, But I was terrified. It sounds worse than it was, I kept thinking Still holding onto so much guilt, shame. Part of me still wanted to protect them, no matter how much pain they caused. I’ve turned a blind eye before, pushed forward and moved on With haunting memories and heavier baggage. It’s harder to take action, To seek justice, To be retraumatized by the system over and over again. It’s been a year, I keep hitting anniversary dates of the hell he put me through But the laughter still rings in my ears Of people I used to call my friends Making fun of me and other victims outside of the court room, Waiting to testify against me. To commit perjury, telling their rehearsed lies To protect two men By dismantling my character. The words I heard those days pierced through my skin Sharper than the defendants’ teeth.

Nightmare fuel // Grazia Curcuru

[prosebyday]

I go too fast And I get hurt. Last year it was my fingers, Nearly took them clean off in a lawnmower. Now it’s my head, Wacked on the corner of a cabinet- Blood gushing, Vision dark. When life is too fast, I need to slow down. It’s been two weeks since I’ve been to work, migraines, dizziness, nausea, photophobia, I’ve lost 8 pounds. The last time I was forced to stay home, I had COVID, and I was covered in deep tissue injuries From a night taken too far. I ran the trails by my house every day, no symptoms from the virus in my lungs, and watched the dark purple landscapes change in color, day by day. I started to question my reality, in ways I could never, when you never gave me space to breathe, lurking and hovering over me, so closely. In my isolation, I realized these marks didn’t just look like abuse -- It was abuse. And I cried and cried, but eventually the word stopped being more scary than what you actually did to me.

The last time I was forced to stay home // Grazia Curcuru

[prosebyday]

I wish for composure Not to tremble with worry  And have to soothe these spiraling thoughts. How does one strike nonchalance? Will I come upon it one day on this journey? My peers have been telling me, for years, “One day, this all won’t matter,  You’ll stop caring,  You’re just young.” But I see my mother and her furrowed brow And her worries And I wonder  If some of us are just… like this.  How can I be unlike this?

And how can I find calm? // Grazia Curcuru

[prosebyday]

New Project! Adventure Blog

I’m working on a new project. If you’re interested in long form adventure stories I started a new blog and the first post is up.

Adventure blog: @bugbitesandblisters

I also launched a Wordpress for both Prosebyday and Bugbitesandblisters

Always love feedback and support.

Thank you bunches!

-Grazia

[prosebyday]

Limbs intertwined Gaze aligned Soft whispers of tomorrow More time I wish to borrow. Do we need sleep? Or rather, wrap in lover's arms And share insight mumble in the moonlight. To have more hours in the day With him.

Mumble in the moonlight // Grazia Curcuru

[prosebyday]

Instant connection when we first locked eyes I hoped you were the man I was meeting My best friend and your best friend arranged this. The chemistry has always been palpable So much so, it had me worried. Were you right for me, or was I blinded By infatuation, by passion? We had to spend time in public,  Had many late-night rambles on the phone Got to know each other Everything was so good, so perfect Our values lined up,  You’ve got a good head on your shoulders Your life together, degrees, good job Treated me well,  But that almost scared me off more. What’s wrong here? This can’t be perfect.  I’m used to chaos, to fighting, to games I wasn’t ready to settle down,  I went on other dates And found someone who would treat me like shit And it excited me I liked people cornering and fighting after me. That was the cycle.  I didn’t understand it at the time.  I thought we didn’t align,  That you didn’t like me enough Because you were respectful, balanced your time,  Kept your hobbies, and didn’t lovebomb me Instead of making me turn my whole life around  To be with you and destroy me in the process. I didn’t know what healthy looked like when I first found it.  I had to hit rock bottom, recognize the cycle,  Want to fix it, own my faults,  Truly believe I deserved better.  After our time together, I knew one thing for certain,  That I wouldn’t want anyone else. In my hardest times, I had only wished you were by my side And I felt gutless for pushing you away.  I have this habit of trying to save people from me Chasing storms too close, until I’m sucked in the tornado And spit out as debris. I didn’t know what healthy looked like when I first found it You’ve been patient with me Loved me gently, stuck by my side  As I’ve ached and worked through healing. I love you more and more every day.  I didn’t come to you in whole pieces But you’ve never made me feel less for it. With you, I have hope, I have peace, I have trust,   And I love this life we’re building.

I didn't know what healthy looked like when I first found it // Grazia Curcuru

[prosebyday]

I'm a shadow of my mother. There's so much pressure for mothers to be perfect, children are susceptible to follow in their footsteps. "Do as I say, not as I do." I still believed she was perfect and that scarred me deeply. She taught me what my weight should be for my height and how to feel satisfied without food. I am a part of her, after trying to be a replica, I fell flat. We grew up together. She couldn't believe my pain was real or she would blame herself but she would still try to peel me from my bed on the worst days and lure me out with a cup of coffee I've seen her learn, grow, adapt. How do you stop instilling hopes and dreams in your child and simply comfort them? It's palliative care for a teenager. She was eventually willing to listen, to learn, to make right she still reopens my wounds from ignorance but she made me who I am, gifted me my flaws, cried with me, whispered secrets, held me tight. We are now both grown women who act like friends knowing full well everything we've been through I believe my health and happiness are enough and I hope I finally make her proud. I'm used to feel like a shadow of my mother and I don't need her silhouette.

Mother wound: healing (January 2023)

[prosebyday]

I went out for my friend’s birthday on the anniversary date of a traumatic event that I’ve had to testify about in court. We were celebrating in the same city, the plan was to attend the same club that I went to with my abusers a year prior. I’ve been a little in my head about this.  We met up for drinks at a first location, but it was weighing on me, the date the date the date, how many times have I discussed May 17 and the events that transpired and that particular club and everything that happened after? I needed to get unstuck.  After some social lubricant kicked in, my words were flowing, I was smiling, it was easier. Why can’t I connect with people this easily normally? I wonder why I keep so much inside myself, why I hold myself back. We start moving to a secondary location, my stomach drops and I wonder if now’s the time to dip. But it’s just another bar. The expensive cocktails couldn’t get anyone drunk enough at an appropriate price, so we’re pivoting to a German spot for cheap boots of beer. We talk about dancing on the walk. Everyone plays some drinking game and I play big Jenga with my lover, giggling as the blocks fall hoping not to spill any drinks. It’s a silly night of glee. We turn in late, I’m not sure if they ever went to that club. On my way out we discussed plans to link up for several future double dates, and drive our friends home. I left with stronger friendships and a new memory of a date that has long since haunted me. I’ll try to remember my new May 17, I like this one better. 

Out with the old // Grazia Curcuru

[prosebyday]

I normally dance on the outskirts, but you take my hand and guide me into the center of it all. Lights flashing, beat pulsing, bodies bumping into one another – the sensation is so strange. The vibrations make my hair stand on end, subtle pushes and shoves from nearby patrons all feel like part of the dance, for a while we’re all in sync as we sway, the way we bounce into each other, the way we touch slightly against strangers, and my skin tingles. I feel electrified, like I don’t know where my body ends and everyone else’s begins. I know I have nerve pain, and I wonder how much of this causes weird sensations, but I feel numb and tingly everywhere, like I don’t quite know where my body is; I just feel the music. It feels like I’m part of something bigger than myself as we all dance.  But that doesn’t last long, maybe it's the paranoia that sets in, as I start to notice the people around me, men start to push into me more than normal, as my friends start to steer me away from men due to what they perceive as creepy behavior. I start to put my guard up more. Soft pushes turn to hard shoves; it’s like people are crawling their way out of the crowd. It doesn’t feel like we’re dancing anymore, I’m trapped, cornered – breathe. I try to shut off my brain and listen to my music, and get back to the place where I was when I was having fun. I’m centered, dancing, loose – but as I’m shoved each time, it takes me out of that place and harder to get back. I keep looking at my friends, wondering if they saw that. Sometimes I wonder why I come to places like this that are so packed. But when we’re in the moment dancing in a crowd of strangers and everything feels so perfect, I wonder why I dance in places that are so dead and not lively when this is so fun. It can get ruined so quickly. I like to have room on the dance floor to move my feet and dance, but I don’t want to be perceived, and I can’t have it both ways. This is the kind of club where you can get lost in the crowd, but there’s no room to dance. Tonight, that's just what I need.

Lost in the center of it all (April 12, 2025) // Grazia Curcuru

[prosebyday]

I wish you loved me enough to never hurt me like that. Do you know that what you did still torments me? If only you could listen to me, to my needs, to my pain, my screams, and not what your friend expected of you, demanded of you.  You were always a big talker – planning our future out in front of pools of drunk acquaintances, they seem like grandiose delusions now. We barely knew each other then. I blushed and felt bashful but then again it was nice that you seemed to want me so much, to brag about me and speak of the future. I thought you really cared. You toted me around like a prize, an object. Left marks on me to make sure everyone knew who I belonged to.  Trashed on a dollaritas, slurring speeches about marrying me with sloppy kisses down my neck in an Applebees full of whoever you can drag along just to pick up the check for, as long as you control what they ordered. Seemingly nice gesture laced with power and control.  As you kept pushing boundaries, I was more and more on edge. It felt like a third party was controlling our relationship, someone outside of us, because he was. I started having nightmares. I wrote a journal entry last July, two weeks before the incident about waking up in bed next to you with the taste of blood in my mouth after a violent nightmare that took place in your kitchen.  Part of me is still delusional, missing you in a bubble, like if he wasn’t around or if you really cut him off like you said you would, we would be fine. As if that would suddenly make all those empty promises you made worth something. But you are a coward and there is no us in a bubble, and if you hurt me because someone else told you to then you were always capable of hurting me.  I feel bad for you. There’s a part of me that has always blamed him more. That wanted him to be punished and you to be free. Like I need to apologize for holding you accountable too, I never wanted things to turn out this way. When we talked and you said you’d give up your friendship with him and be with me– that’s what I wanted. But you are not innocent, took no accountability, acted the victim when I addressed the abuse. And I couldn’t repeat the cycle. I’m better for leaving and getting the protections I did.

You were always a big talker, but you were never going to change // Grazia Curcuru

[prosebyday]

Stuck in the past I miss you when you’re not here But when I have you, I’m a ghost A shell of myself. How can I be present? I know this is hurting you It’s hurting me too I’m pushing you away I love you I can’t get out of this loop Rumination is ruining me.

Rumination // Grazia Curcuru

[prosebyday]

It’s getting bad again Darker and darker days The dizzier I get  The more I keep falling  And hitting my head And the worse off I am.  Will I ever stop crying? It’s an endless cycle When did I let myself go? Always taking care of others But I give myself last pick.  No water, scraps of food,  At the end of the day And I wonder why my vision blurs A year ago I was running  And dancing A couple months ago I was going to the gym  And dancing. And now after a long day's work I crawl in bed And cry And I feel so stuck

[prosebyday]

I feel like I’m treading water It’s one thing after the other Constantly fighting to stay afloat Surviving, struggling Convincing myself to keep going  Until the next checkpoint But each one I believe is the end Exhaustion… when will I surrender to the sea? I can’t keep fighting all the circumstances Beating me down Each time I better them Better myself The last straw is insurmountable  It may seem silly, like nothing But context is everything.  And this past year has killed me Again and again.

Dread // Grazia Curcuru

[prosebyday]

All the places I thought I was finding love, I really just found lessons and character development. I'm sick of learning and developing, I've grown enough for one person... it fatigues, breaking down every part of me for someone else. I'm growing old, building up new walls that cast me in a bitter shell. And just as I think I'll never trust again, you saunter in and teach me lessons I'd never expect. Embracing every part of me as I am, not forcing me to change or breaking my bones.

On feeling hope again // Grazia Curcuru

[prosebyday]

Where I had faith, you were full of doubt. Now I've earned your trust but I'm the one freaking out.

will we ever be in the same place // Grazia Curcuru

[prosebyday]

I wiped the steam off the mirror while the woman I cared for finished showering. I set out some towels for her, neatly as she pleased, like I do every Sunday and Wednesday morning. While passing the mirror, I take a second look. I'm 23 now but I've been stuck Feeling like a perpetual teenager Like I never aged past 16. I started acting 25 when I was 12, always so mature for my age now longing my childhood innocence barefaced and goofy. I lock eyes with myself and tear up. I look grown, my body is still aging without me. I'm an adult, I am a woman. I've been calling myself a girl for so long. Sometimes I didn’t even feel like I girl; I didn't know what I was -- lost. Observing the soft curves of my face, lips, my body I realize my girlhood is gone. Is this womanhood? I wonder, but snap out of it to help another woman to dry off and get dressed after the shower, the bathroom flooded with the scent of rose shampoo.

Womanhood: A Wednesday in August 2023 // Grazia Curcuru