i was at therapy today and all i could repeatedly say was that i feel more alone, scared, and unsafe than i ever felt and i keep wondering if there’s any way i could run away from everything.
I’m ashamed of myself today.
I couldn’t stand up to my own mother.
And I’m ashamed of myself today.
I have very narrow minded people at home, especially my mother.
So today I was showing her some pictures and of course, she couldn’t care much because I never had that kind of relationship with my mother where I could just sit and talk with her about things I like or how I almost finished a bottle of Nutella yesterday, you know? So she brought up the topic of how I’ve been writing about things like rape, vaginas, mental illness, etc. And I’m extremely furious thinking about it now, because she was so disgusted and disturbed by that fact. She told me that I think I’ve already grown up to talk like that.That I’m still young and shouldn’t talk about disgusting things like rape.
I know she’s wrong about all the things above. And I have no shame in talking about my own mother. But I’d like to address every person, who thinks this way.
I know my mother was wrong and I know for once that I was doing all the right things but I DIDN’T FUCKING STAND UP FOR MYSELF.
and I thought that I like to think I’m so strong to face any criticism when I write bold poetry like I do but I couldn’t stand up to my own mother.
And the worst part I thought was that for the first time I didn’t put my poetry on Facebook custom hiding from my mother because I thought she’d be proud of me. When she first brought this topic out today I was elated that for once I needed my mother to praise me and be proud of me.
It really hurt me. But more than that it made me furious.
For once, in a very long time, I like to think I’m right for once. That no, there is no age to talk about important things, and even though it’s sad that people consider rape and other things like that as disgusting, it is very important to not get influenced by their criticism. There is no learning from narrow minded people. You can’t change them, or their thinking, but you have to keep doing whatever the fuck you want.
And I think the age factor to staying bold and beautiful talking important things in the world is completely ridiculous. Like for example when my mom told me I’m JUST 19 to talk about rape and other things. I was thinking ‘HOW MUCH OLDER SHOULD I BE MOM, TO COMPLETELY UNDERSTAND THAT TALKING ABOUT ‘SEX WITHOUT CONSENT IS A WRONG THING’ HOW MUCH OLDER SHOULD I BE TO KNOW THAT EVEN IF YOU ARE SIX YEARS OLD, YOU CAN BE RAPED. HOW OLDER SHOULD I BE MOM, TO TRY TO MAKE A LITTLE CHANGE?’
I’d definitely like to say that once you’re in an age where you understand what’s right and what’s wrong it should be completely upon you to stand up for what you believe in even if it’s something where your beliefs defy your parents.
And I by no means am speaking against parents or anything of that sort and I know people must be thinking when they read this that they’re uncomfortable because I’m speaking for myself against my mother, but to be honest, it’s really important you know?
I’m really furious right now at how everything works. But doesn’t mean personally, that I’m going to stop believing in writing or talking about things I consider extremely important because I know they are. What’s very important is you realize that you have your own identity and you are YOUR OWN PERSON.
And its okay to be out of place in what you believe in your family.
I mean let’s be real, if everybody went with what their parents thought they were doing wrong, they’d always fail in what THEY believe in because of their fear that they’re not going to make their mother/father proud.
And next time you go through a situation like I went through, no matter WHO IT IS, stand up for yourself. Or at least try to.
If not anyone, you’ll make yourself proud i promise.
a gentle excerpt with lots of grammatical mistake from a book i’ll never write.
illustration from weheartit.
the poem is not mine. it is of pablo neruda. it’s one of my favorite poems. it’s called if you forget me.
the song they sing is also one of my favorites. it’s called endless love by lionel riche and diana ross.
his eyebrows furrowed.
“what?” she jumped.
“nothing. you look like shit. IS THAT VANILLA PERFUME? why do you want to smell like dessert?”
“ask me if i care?” she smiled.
“you’re awfully rude. should i be concerned or are you a rude person in general or-”
“can i?” she pointed to the warm blankets he was drowning in.
you could just see joel’s auburn hair and his pointed nose.
“can you what?” he looked confused.
“god jo, it’s freezing. move so that i can sit beside you.”
“why would i do that?”
“because it’s freezing, that’s why. now take your legs off of the book you idiot.”
“ow, jo. put it off.”
he moved the flashlight from the page of the book they were reading towards her eyes.
“put that off, joel.”
“DID YOU KNOW THAT HE TURNS OUT GAY AT THE END?”
“why are you screaming?” she screamed back.
he decided to whisper. “because it’s awfully quiet here, Clem. also, please stop giggling on every page. it’s sad.”
“what, being gay?”
she rolled her eyes. “really, jo?”
“what, i’m just saying. he’s the one running around with pom poms and tears streaming down his face.”
“THERE’S ONLY YOU IN MY LIFE”
“THE EVERY STEP I MAKE-”
“god clem. i hate you.”
“that’s my favorite song. and you sang the wrong words.”
“but we can always make up our own words right?”
“but not this one. because this is the epitome of a song that’s very beautiful.”
“okay. let’s go again.”
“okay. MY LOVEEE”, joel dragged the word. “THERE’S ONLY YOU IN MY LIFE.”
she waited for a moment, looked up at him and screamed.
“THE EVERY STEPPPPPPPPP I MAKEEEEEEEE.”
and i swear you could hear them laughing softly if you tiptoed from the next room.
“hey hey hey”
“talk to me, clem.”
“what do you mean talk? i’m right here.”
“but you’re not. you want to tell me what’s going on?”
she stopped for a moment and looked at her wrists.
“do you- do you think you’d ever love me- i, uh, mean- this way?”
“what do you mean this way?”
“this. all of this. i’m sorry, i should really not-”
“Clementine, i love you. i’m here to tell you that.”
“you don’t sound convincing.”
“what am i supposed to do, get down on one knee?”
he rolled his eyes.
“seriously, clem. hey, how about i punch you in the face now for thinking you’re not good enough for me? how about that?”
she closed her eyes and pretended to cover her face.
“are you snoring?”
“i’m wide awake, Clem.”
“i thought you were.”
“i was not.”
“are you asleep?”
“clementine, here, hit me.”
she raised her eyebrows and punched him in the stomach.
“okay. you’re awake. so i was thinking we could stay up the whole night and then wait for sunrise, yeah?” she grinned
“there are two hours to go for it. let’s wait until we die or something.”
“you know i love you, right? i mean you know that right?” joel looked up from their book.
“nah. i changed my mind.”
“hey, i’m just kidding.”
“are you mad?” he nudged her elbow.
“ask me again if i’m mad.”
“are you mad?”
“i am. now apologize.”
“i’m sorry clem. i didn’t mean to hurt you. i really didn’t mean any of that, i-”
clementine rolled her eyes.
“okay stop. god, such a pain.”
“hey jo, read to me.”
“okay. close your eyes.”
“i don’t know.”
joel cleared his throat and whispered.
“i want you to know one thing.
you know how this is:
if i look
at the crystal moon, at the red branch
of the slow autumn at my window-”
he stopped abruptly and whispered.
“ARE YOU ACTUALLY ASLEEP?” he hissed.
“shut up, Jo.”
“are you snoring, clem?”
“get away from me, Jo.”
“We all have someone who we just can’t fucking let go of.”
without you- oh wonder
I LOVE OH WONDER AND THIS SONG IS BEAUTIFUL. SO VERY BEAUTIFUL.
Cause I’m kicking up stones without you
Can’t pick up the phone without you
I’m a little bit lost without you
And I’m digging down holes without you
Can’t be on my own without you
I’m a little bit lost without you
you drew lines on the back of your hand, they’re crooked, and you want to make them so beautiful, but you don’t know how. you were always bad at art. you can’t choose a color. you can’t keep the color in.
this is for you, this is for you, if you ever go numb, completely, completely numb, for the days when you almost hit rock bottom, my love, this is for you if you ever feel you can’t see beautiful things anymore. this is for you, to tell you how much i love you.
when you’re sleeping on the edge of your bed trying to look for when the day ends outside your window, and you notice that weeds are growing outside on the surface of your bedroom wall, i’ll tie them up together in a bundle and replace them with ivies. you can sleep, now.
if you find yourself again, again, among people who bully you, who put you in a dark room in your own head, if you find yourself between that crowd again, in the dark, we’ll play hide and seek and this time, i’ll seek you. i will. you’ll win this time, i promise you.
if you feel alone again, if you ever look at a map again and still feel stuck, when you’re not looking, i’ll fold up the map and crumple it in a ball. that way, i can tell you, that in the cliche of cliches, we can bring our world together, all together at once, to be everywhere we want to be, the places you want to go, inside the lines on your palms, we can bring together with a map, we’ll build your own map.
if you think you’re bad at art, what you need to know is that for me, for the world, you are art. and if you ever feel your hands shaking with a paintbrush on a stretched canvas, i’ll hold your hand and we’ll paint the starry night on your wrists. i’ll paint on one mine too. that way, you’ll know we can create art, together.
if you’re scared of us being temporary, i’ll make sure you know that nothing is permanent but we, us, we’ll store paper flowers in our notebooks, to know that nothing is permanent, nothing is temporary, but we’ll face both the sides, that we, we’ll be able to look at two sides of the moon till it decides to become one. for a really, really long time.
on some nights, if you have trouble seeing the stars, and the sky seems a little bit higher that night, you can sit under a tree and we’ll set christmas lights to every branch above and call it a sky for the night. there’ll be no night where you’ll miss the stars, i promise, even if it means that we have to pretend to look at light bulbs and call them tiny nebulae.
more than that, one some nights, if you can’t tell me you love me, that you miss the stars because they remind you of me, that some songs feel like my daisies in your window, that sometimes, you can’t read a book knowing that on the next page, there’s a line which i highlighted in my book, if you’re scared that you might lose me, that falling in love with me brought chaos and you couldn’t even do that one thing right, it’s okay.
through all the beautiful things i told you we’ll create, i’ve written endless ways to let you know that i love you, and that maybe you love me too. or even if you don’t, i know for a fact that loving you was the one thing i did right.
i drew lines on your hand. They’re still crooked and we colored it, we colored the circle with all the colors we know, the ones we didn’t know, and we colored it so bright, we colored it outside the lines.