Take 1… Action!

my father says

“well why’d she do that?”

referring to the mother of a 10 year old girl in a movie

I’m watching who appears to have

killed herself, lying in the bath tub

I do my best to stay focused on the glowing screen of the T.V.

trying to distract myself from the following words…

“Because… they’re mentally… whatever… ill”

my mom says.

so casually

slicing open the watermelon on the kitchen counter

“because they’re stupid… cray cray”

says my sister, sprawled out on the couch

trying to make what is an awkward conversation

seem like just another

joke

that’ll soon pass, unnoticed

I sit, transfixed, my eyes on the T.V

trying extremely hard to focus on the little girls father asking her why she drowned the cat.

“yea… or because their cray cray” I hear my mother say

somewhere in the distance

yet

all I can focus on is how my father turns

and stares at me.

as if it wasn’t blatantly obvious.

as if by looking at me he’d find an answer to a question that hung at the tip of his tongue

or maybe the question he buried in the back of the medicine cabinet

like a pill he only seemed to realize was there

when the situation called for it

I kinda want to say

“what? cat got your tongue?” but my mouth failed me

just like my father’s did his

because

he turns away.

“no”

seemingly unconvinced

I wonder if he was talking about the thought of his little girl having a mental illness or if these things were the right answers at all

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When I Lay Me Down to Sleep

For the past couple of months, I have been having trouble sleeping. By this I mean, I lay in bed for who knows how long and can’t get to sleep, when I finally do get to sleep I always seem to wake up in the middle of the night for random reasons and the cycle continues. On the occasion that I do go to bed fine or maybe I’ve been doing something distracting so by the time that I do get to sleep I’m super tired, I’ve been having these dreams and they tend to be about the same topic. A “friend who’s not my friend” or “somebody that I used to know”.

In these dreams (or maybe they might be considered nightmares), I feel this unbearable pain. In a few of the dreams, I remember having conversations with friends and they seem to be talking about this particular person and it seems to be the reason I’m crying. Sometimes, I am confronting this person and telling them everything that I’d been meaning to and there’s always this uncontrollable set of tears that are endlessly streaming down my face, however, now in my real life, we are strangers. Some nights, when I have these dreams I seem to be in between awake and asleep and I can feel myself stirring and crying, but I’m so enthralled in the dream that I will myself to stay in the dream for as long as possible, until I finally sit up, fully awake, having to dry my tears.

Last night I had one of these dreams, in between awake and asleep, except this time I wasn’t talking to them and I never saw their face. Instead, I was sitting at a table, in a white room, with people I apparently knew and was balling my eyes out. I felt like I just had a great loss and it hurts so bad my entire body ached with sadness. It seemed to me that everyone else at the table was sad but for their own reasons and when they asked why I had been crying uncontrollably, they didn’t know and I was too sad to even speak. It felt like I had been crying for hours until somebody mentioned that maybe it was because of this one person and that’s when I stopped crying, shook my head, laughed a little and kinda started to feel a little better. Just when I tried to raise my head, the pain shot through my body and I just… kept… crying. I kept at it, even though I knew in my soul it had nothing to do with this person, but even I still couldn’t figure out the reason behind my sobbing. This continued until I had been shaking so bad I fell off my chair and landed on the floor and that’s when the table disappeared. The tables, the chairs, the people with undistinguishable or recognizable faces had vanished and there I lay still, wet-faced, alone, in a ball in the middle of a white room.

Then, I woke up having to wipe the tears from my eyes.

More Content Please!!!

As many of my followers know, this site is not only a place where I share my thoughts through blog posts but also through poetry. So, I want to ask the audience who their favorite poet are and if there are some poems they would like to share with me. I always love finding and reading new stuff so please I need to make a long, long reading list. So, feel free to send me some of your stuff, other poems you might’ve found online, or comment down below; really, I would love to read or listen!

You’re the Reason Why…

I’ve been putting off writing this for a while, mostly because I’m still conflicted with the way telling this story makes me feel. For once it isn’t about a friend who claims unconditional love but in fact, someone who I thought their title’s definition meant loving you no matter what. They were meant to love you, broken or whole, hurt or healthy, and if you did end up breaking they were supposed to help you heal. I’ve never written about them, poem or other, because it always seemed wrong to do so. It felt like if I wrote these things down for some reason the feeling would seem more real and there wouldn’t be any way to take them back or change them.

Mother.

Another reason I feel like I’ve been so hurt and can’t let go of my sadness. I finally realized that it was you. The entire time, it was you.

I was hurting for so long and even after we talked about the self-harm, suicidal thoughts, and feelings of madness, I think you thought it would all just go away. However, even then I still felt some type of way towards you. Whenever I spoke about you, it still felt wrong to be able to tell people of the “wonderful” childhood I had, but I couldn’t quite honestly say that I hated you. Except now that I was moving forward from the feelings of loneliness, sadness and hatred with myself, that I began to see I couldn’t do it just yet because I would soon be going back to the house I grew up in and have to “deal” with living with you two for the summer. There was something about this idea that made me feel really sick. I realized then that I couldn’t really move on by just letting go of a friend, but I also had to deal with the one person I hadn’t really yet forgiven… you.

You knew. You knew I was in pain at such a young age. You knew that I had these thoughts and not just once had you sat me down and (as much as I hated it then) talked to me about why my feelings were invalid. You thought that it was “just a phase” or that I “was being influenced” but really I was trying to make sense of it all. You found out I was in pain and instead of helping me, you pushed it aside and pretended that I was okay. You told me that if I contacted someone for help (which wasn’t what I wanted then) that it would affect my future and it would go “on my record”. These words terrified me. Then I got older and believed the lies you fed me and when yet again I was feeling distressed, who was I to turn to? The one who kept saying that she loved me and was there when I needed her but pushed my feelings to the side, acting as if they weren’t real? I trudged on and had to grow up this way. Then when I finally found out it was all a lie, I was shocked. You know, some people don’t have those people they can talk to, they don’t have someone they can turn to, they have no one, but I had you. But I didn’t really have you, did I. You had the opportunity to help me and you turned me aside and deep, deep down I could never forgive you for this. For seven years I was in pain and the last 3 of them I had wanted it all to end so badly that I almost entrusted you with my feelings again, but I didn’t want to be rejected the care I needed so I hid it. Until just recently, when it was time to go “home”, I realized that I could have felt better about a lot of things much, much, MUCH sooner. You’re the reason why I continued to hurt. You’re the reason why I still feel hurt about the way things went growing up. I was supposed to grow up and feel loved,  wanted and cared for, and although I can’t put the blame on just one person for the way I felt, I know I could have felt better. Yet you were the reason why it wasn’t so.

A prayer/ A spell

I am feeling better, so I say good morning and mean it. That’s a big deal.

Yes, today is a good morning to exhale, to feel joy with the release of a breath I no longer need to be holding.

I am NOT alone because I feel alone.

I am NOT alone because I feel alone.

I am NOT alone because I feel alone with company.

When I look in the mirror, I will find a reflection of the gifts I am withholding from myself.

Light hits everything at a different angle. I will make a habit of tilting my head.

When the sadness water falls, I will let the salt cleanse the wounds I cannot see. I will let dance parties, be the hospital’s I heal in.

If I need more help, I will let the people offering help me.

If I need more help, I will let the medication help me.

I forgive my body for being a machine after all.

I forgive my memory for being the cupboard door that will continue to pop ajar no matter how many times I push it shut.

I forgive myself even if I am the last person I want to forgive.

Wherever I have come from, wherever I am going, I will remember the present as the only place to start.

Today is a good day to wake up and be great and have gratitude for the restless pump of a heart, for the way it does not know how to hold back.

I will exhale and I will begin to do the same.

-Sabrina Benaim

bitches broken hearts

You can pretend you don’t miss me
You can pretend you don’t care
All you wanna do is kiss me
Oh, what a shame, I’m not there

You can pretend you don’t miss me
You can pretend you don’t care
All you wanna do is kiss me
Oh, what a shame, I’m not there

What is it you want?
You can lie, but I know that you’re not fine
Every time you talk
You talk ’bout me, but you swear I’m not on your mind

You can pretend you don’t miss me
You can pretend you don’t care
All you wanna do is kiss me
Oh, what a shame, I’m not there

Everybody knows
You and I are suicidal stolen art
Pretty mama sews
Stitches into all your bitches broken hearts

You can pretend you don’t miss me
You can pretend you don’t care
All you wanna do is kiss me
Oh, what a shame, I’m not there

Somebody new
Is gonna comfort you like you want me to
Somebody new
Is gonna comfort me like you never do

Every now and then, it hits me
That I’m the one that got away
But I guess being lonely fits me
And you were made for begging, “Stay”

-Billie Eilish

Doves Do Speak

Did you hear it?

I said

I love you

except I didn’t say it

did I?

and that’s what makes you

ache

a slow burning

fire on the inside,

makes you long for

picking flowers in

the dawn of spring

I said it

with

every

breath in and out

of my body

I said it

with every

stroll down the pavement,

the twinkling disarray of street lamps in june

the crowded places filled of people, and food, and too much laughter

I said it with everyday

spent hanging out on the back of old broken down golf carts talking about

nothing and everything

I said it

with every glimpse up from the blank computer screen,

waiting to catch your smile,

I said it

almost every late night while I laid in bed

tired, and the only thing keeping me aglow was the anticipation of the syllables we didn’t

dare to speak out loud

I say it

with every time I pick up the phone

and remind myself to put it down

because I know

you’re better off without me

I say it

with every word written,

scratched out

inside the poems I think

I can secretly

hide you behind

I say it

with every tick on the clock

of the seconds

passing by

that used to be moments

we so often

put in the back of our pockets

as if we could save them for later

I say it

every time I have a single thought

of you

a small glimpse of an unfolded memory,

a watercolored daydream, too washed out to piece together,

some form of sick, twisted nightmare

every time that thought escapes me and is uttered into words

I catch the air and learn how to swallow swords.

I guess I forgot how when I talked, you were always too busy saying something else

you say,

like a magician awaiting the last act where the doves are finally set free,

that only the magic words

will open the locked cage to your heart

and rid me of the chains that are keeping me underwater

Well? Did you hear it?

 

When a Stranger Calls…

During the last couple of weeks of school, my anxiety was running high and thinking about coming up to the end of the year, having to pack all my things, having to go back to California, coming to the realization that I was actually going to finish my first year of college weren’t helping.

I won’t lie, it was incredibly difficult for me to do simple things without feeling sad or anxious about coming to this end. The only thing I kept thinking about as all my friends talked about not being able to wait for the end of the year and going back home, my mind was on talking to someone about my conflicting sadness and crippling anxiety, not just anyone, but this one particular person who I’d been missing terribly. I’ve mentioned this person before, they were my best friend at one point in my life. I can’t recall how many times I’d picked up the phone and remembered to put it down because it would only hurt us in the end. I don’t remember how many times we’d told each other, and others for that matter, that “it would be the last time we’d talk” and somehow we’d always find each other. It didn’t matter how many times we moved, changed our number, or left each other.

Until I had had enough silence from him and I was tired of ignoring the fact that I really needed him, I sought his help with dealing with how I was feeling. The next time a random number rang and I battled with myself not to pick it up, the call went to voicemail, but still I decided to call back. In the end, I realized that what I needed was not his help or a conversation, but I needed him to really understand that for my mental health and his, the only way we could ever truly be happy was if we really ended our friendship.

Throughout my year away, I realized what it was like to feel the sun peeking out through the rain clouds and I remembered how much I missed that feeling. I also realized that the only way I could feel happy is if I let go of all the things that were holding me captive in my sadness. By moving away, I was able to unchain myself from most of the things that were holding me down. During the long periods of my old friends’ absence, I started to feel a little less sad and started to feel like I knew the answer to one of my main problems. It was him. Thinking of him and longing for his presence was only keeping me in my past and in order to move forward, I had to let him go. “For real this time”.

I’ve said this more than once or twice before… and to several people. However, when he called me two weeks before the end of school, I answered. We talked for about an hour which was mostly me catching him up on how much I had missed him and what was going on in my life and before I got to ask him about his, I was caught by a friend who I told should take my phone if she ever caught me speaking to him.

The following days after that, we had called each other several times, I explained to him that I had to let him go in order for me to look after myself, for once… It wasn’t until then that I realized that our friendship would never work and I was hurt for not seeing that it was never going to last. He loved me so much that it hurt him to see me or hear from me, knowing that I left the city without telling him. I didn’t realize that he resented me for not loving him the way he wanted me to. I always knew it hurt him, but it wasn’t until just recently that I understood when he told me he “hated me” it wasn’t a joke, but instead it was him hating the fact that he loved me enough to want me to be happy, but happy with him. It wasn’t until the very last time I talked to him that I realized that when he told me he wanted me to be happy and that “I had to do what I had to do”, it nearly tore him when I said, “I am. I have to leave you in order to truly be happy because thinking of you only makes me sad”. He resented me for finally growing up and finally realizing he was no good for me, nor I for him and letting go of one of the major things that were holding me back.

F. If ever you come across this though I doubt you ever will, I love you. I love you for being there when I needed you the most, for sharing 5 years with me, confiding in me and letting me do the same with you. I also hate you. I hate you for making me feel like shit when I told you that you weren’t letting me do what was best for me because what YOU thought was best for me, was you… and I hate you for thinking that I could ever love you romantically and that I’d never find someone better than you. You’ve got some nerve. I guess you didn’t know me at all… just you watch, I’m gonna find someone a million times better and he will make me forget that I ever even knew your name.

The Battle at Stephens…

Four girls, one room, one conversations that opens the doors to some stuff they all thought they’d left behind within the halls of their high school. Except this time they weren’t in high school, in fact, they were now too old for the petty drama of who invited who or who wasn’t or who was brave enough to talk about their beef with someone face to face. Yet, there was still hurt feelings because of things like being talked about behind your back or questioning friends’ loyalty. They thought they had left these problems behind when they put on their caps walked across the stage, when they packed their bags and drove or flew miles away from the people they once knew, when they decided to leave their pasts behind them. Apparently it wasn’t as easy as it seemed.

So they they sat… “talking it out like adults”. Two girls in tears and two with their hands over their mouths trying not to laugh in their uncomfortable situation. They explained to each other how they made each other feel… One was unexplainably angry ALL the time and she just didn’t want to be around them (although she would soon be taking medication to help her anger), another was pissed that she had to live with her and felt hopeless and guilty for not being able to help her and taking the brunt of the bursts of rage, another felt unwanted and disliked because of her insecurities and her past relationships with backstabbing friends, and another stuck in the middle of it all, not wanting to take sides and wanting to help everyone at all times, often forgetting herself.

And so they sat, debating and hurting and healing with every word that was said and every hour that passed. However, there was still so much anger and hurt and so much time had passed with the girls carrying broken hearts that talking it out didn’t seem to be able to heal the damage. Some asked why it even mattered if they continued to try to work out their dilemma, if it even mattered that they remained friendly or friends for that matter if the end of the year was coming in just two weeks, if in just two short weeks they’d be back in their homes enjoying their summer hopefully drama free.

Talking out their problems was the first step to recovery but they were nowhere near recovering…

Small Steps, Steady Wins the Race

I know that I’ve been away for a while now, but I am glad to be back and writing. I would like to mention that things are looking up right now and a few stories must be told, a few poems written, and then these blogs will have happier notes… I hope. First, we must take things slow and steady. It begins with baby steps. There are a few thoughts that I’ve been wanting to share to anyone that will listen, a few things that will help me speak my truth and I hope that by sharing, I will begin to feel better too.

After I had been absent from Blue Birdies in mid April, I had taken a few steps back into my cave of darkness and wallowed in my sadness. This was because I had been thinking negatively and I also had received an unexpected (but secretly hoped for) phone call, from what now is “somebody I used to know”. I was also keeping busy, stressing about moving out before the end of my freshman year, which brought its own set of feelings due to the fact that I’d never imagined myself being there and finishing my first year of college.

To be honest, I felt lost. Once again, I felt stuck in between who I was and who I wanted to be and I didn’t quite know how to do it yet because there was still something that was holding me back, sending me back into my sadness, besides my own self, of course.