re--becoming

[re--becoming]

Internal Crisis

//

The internal crisis of having nothing but love for people stuck in a world with nothing but pain.

What do they need, how do I feel their hunger and greed? Is my love to consuming? Or is it rage in late blooming.

Where can I look, when what I crave is only on the pages of a book. A novel written by a woman with privilege. The privilege of experience. Experience beyond heartbreak.

[re--becoming]

Sister o Sister

I don't know you but you see my soul.

I couldn't tell you her favorite color or what song she has on repeat. I couldn't even tell you what her personal greatest accomplishment is. Yet, as we sat in a crowded club, I looked around: bobbing my head to the hip pop music I had no interest in. I tried to force a smile and be a good time.

My friend, sat and talked with another friend she'd invited last minute. For a brief moment I looked down at my phone, pretending to check my messages.

3AM.

Only one more hour I thought. My sister, basically a totally stranger who just happened to look a little like me, asked if I was alright. I was taken aback, I'm having a great time and I am smiling. My sister, the one who'd taught me how to put on false lashes, saw right through me and into my discomfort. I shrugged it off and said I was fine.

About 30 minutes before closing, my friends friend had asked where the bathroom was.

"It's right over there", I said pointing to a brown door.

"But they don't have soap." My sister waited until my friend and the girl walked away,

"When you start washing your hands?"

I don't know you but you see my soul.

HAHAHAH I WASH MY HANDS I SWEARRRR

[re--becoming]

It was one of those days were couples walked through parks, talking about their home remodels or where to get dinner. I was peoplewatching although I had people with me. A person I'd fallen in love with deeply, the first of many.

He'd broken my heart, or rather temporarily tampered with my love. I, so young and in love, thought 'lets work through it.' Yet, despite my efforts I still saw it happening in my head on replay.

On a cold winter night, I'd cry in my bedroom at my mothers that was now my brothers. There'd be no christmas tree or bundles of joy. I would no longer cry at the fact no one made me feel special on my birthday. I'd cry because I loved my mother so much but in a painful way.

On a cold winter night, he'd get a message about my stress and sadness. There'd be a christmas tree and another woman. A woman from the past who came back. He'd let her back in, because he was bored. They'd go to his place, one I'd never see until it was to late.

I don't love you anymore but sometimes I feel nauseas I let you touch after you touched her. It's as if I gave you consistent to harm my heart/