feels

Lover

I still wake up

With the ache of her absence

Sunken into me like an anchor eternally chained

To a boat that I never meant to rock

 

Ancestor

I don’t have the security of my family 

To assure these ancient wounds of mine

That everything will be okay

I call upon those who came before me

And welcome them back into the familiar rawness that I now know 

 

Father

I walked by a bodega tonight

And it made me really miss my dad for some reason

Like how he got along with everyday people

Kind, angry people

Loud, soft people

He always seemed to notice folks

There is this feeling in me that is hard to recognize

I am wanting him to come back

I am ready now 

To notice him

 

Ghost

I wouldn’t be who I am today if my father didn’t die eight years ago

Maybe that’s dishonorable to say 

But what’s the point of lying to myself about a relationship we never had

And yet 

If there was some way for him to return to earth now

I know he would be able to comfort me 

In a way that my mother will never be able to do

I love you 

but that doesn't mean

That I need to give you

a reason for my leave.


 

 

I bring my naked body to bed

Feeling like I have nothing left 

To give myself

Not even a damn

 

I ask whatever god I still seem to believe in to help me 

Get some rest

Send me to sleep

With a dream or two to think about

When I wake in the morning

 

I’d like to bring my little fragmented dream memories into my day

Mostly for my own sense of comfort

But there are too many people here

With so many dreams

So I continue to keep mine to myself

I don’t wanna take up too much space

In a place I feel so disconnected from

 

My dreams feel safest when I exhale them out

Into the trees of Prospect Park

I take some time there alone

To feel less alone

I softly press my forehead into their bark

And let their prayers wrap around me like forgotten family

 

My dreams don’t need to be in Brooklyn

And maybe that’s okay

I’ll just keep them like seeds

Hide them under my mattress

And when the time comes for their waking

I will be ready to quietly ignite the yearning they hold

To be fruitful

And hopeful

And alive

 

The team of doctors who knew of me for no more than a few hours diagnosed me with Borderline Personality Disorder

 

I was a fragile and wounded 26 year-old thing

My mother brought me to the New York Presbeteryian Hospital because I was going through a hard time, a painful breakup, and was in the process of quitting my abusive job.

I was also living out of a tent in upstate New York and winter was soon approaching, so I didn’t protest her request to bring me to a place of professional support. 

 

My two-week stay at the hospital was not voluntary

But yes, I was the one who signed myself in.

 

The people facilitating the intake process pried mercilessly

into my boundless despair

They asked me if I was suicidal at least eight times

They asked me how much I wanted to kill myself on a scale of 1-10

And if I was thinking about hurting anyone else 

 

They asked me about my sex life

And if I was the “boyfriend” or the “girlfriend” in the relationship

 

What they didn’t ask me was whether or not they could

put their hands on me

Or if I consented to a strip search later that night

Or about my gender or chosen name

 

Moments after I hesitantly gave them my signature 

I lost full agency over my body

And was led to my new room

Complete with four white walls

A desk with edges that were covered in rubber

And a little plastic mattress in the corner

 

My days passed in that room 

And soon the team of doctors found it fitting to label my wounds

with a diagnosis

Wounds which my mother birthed me into since day one

Wounds that came from true love lost

Wounds that were reaching far beyond my present sense of emptiness

 

Despite my critical lens of what was happening around me

I was willing to do anything in that moment

to rapidly move through my grief

I was desperately raw and seeking answers

So I believed in their declaration like a newfound faith 

 

I’ve never felt so far from God ever since. 

 

LEAVE

BROOKLYN DOESN'T

NEED MY DREAMS

BPD

VENUS IN CANCER

**Hi! Thanks for being here, where I post some of my writings. Just a heads up, some of the content includes suicidal ideation, gender dysphoria, anxiety, and family trauma. And here's me on a bed being moody <3. 

NOTE TO MY YOUNGER SELF

I will protect you

Do my best to

Be there when the world upsets you

You don't have to run and hide

cuz I am right here by your side

But if you need to scream and cry

Just tilt your heart up to the sky

and let the heavens know your pain

the earth below will feel the same

and in between you shall remain

A hopeful whisper of a name.