At the temple there is a poem called “Loss” carved into the stone. It has three words, but the poet has scratched them out. You cannot read loss, only feel it.
Today, I ripped you from my mouth
like the bitterest apology I’ve ever given.
I washed you off of my skin, watched the last of you
disappear down the shower drain.
Today, I made a choice
not to set fire to the person I was when you loved me,
not to burn myself to the ground
just to see if you’d come running to the flames.
Today, I stared down the morning until my eyes
burned like suns.
I left the house.
I wore a black dress that hugged my hips
like they would never have to apologize
for their vastness again.
I tore you from my hands, picked the splinters out
with a pair of tweezers, one by one.
I wore red lipstick and stained all my coffee cups with
my own mouth.
I looked in mirrors and smiled.
I walked to the park and
cried watching baby ducklings follow their mother
into the water for the first time.
I got drunk with my friends and didn’t bring
you up once.
I danced under the streetlights and kissed a stranger
who tasted nothing like you.
I went home alone and slept for twelve hours.
I didn’t see you painted on the
inside of my eyelids like the ceiling of
an abandoned cathedral.
I didn’t break a single dish in my house.
I showered until all the hot water was gone
and, my God, I was so brave,
to keep going without you.
To dig through the layers of you
and find myself glowing,
no longer the moth, but the light, itself.
I was so brave to get left by you
and not fall to pieces.
to get left by you and not fall at all.
The weather mirrors my feelings today.
That was the thing. You never got used to it, the idea of someone being gone. Just when you think it’s reconciled, accepted, someone points it out to you, and it just hits you all over again, that shocking.
Just your daily reminders:
- Racists are a problem
- White people are not
- Homophobes are a problem
- Straight people are not
- Transphobes are a problem
- Cis people are not
- Sexists are a problem
- Men are not
And most importantly,
- Hating an innocent person solely because of their race, sexuality, or gender makes you a fucking asshole
Remember: the time you feel lonely is the time you most need to be by yourself. Life’s cruelest irony.
Robin Williams didn’t die from suicide. I only just heard the sad, sad news of Robin Williams’s death. My wife sent me a message to tell me he had died, and, when I asked her what he died from, she told me something that nobody in the news seems to be talking about.
When people die from cancer, their cause of death can be various horrible things – seizure, stroke, pneumonia – and when someone dies after battling cancer, and people ask “How did they die?”, you never hear anyone say “pulmonary embolism”, the answer is always “cancer”. A Pulmonary Embolism can be the final cause of death with some cancers, but when a friend of mine died from cancer, he died from cancer. That was it. And when I asked my wife what Robin Williams died from, she, very wisely, replied “Depression”.
The word “suicide” gives many people the impression that “it was his own decision,” or “he chose to die, whereas most people with cancer fight to live.” And, because Depression is still such a misunderstood condition, you can hardly blame people for not really understanding. Just a quick search on Twitter will show how many people have little sympathy for those who commit suicide…
But, just as a Pulmonary Embolism is a fatal symptom of cancer, suicide is a fatal symptom of Depression. Depression is an illness, not a choice of lifestyle. You can’t just “cheer up” with depression, just as you can’t choose not to have cancer. When someone commits suicide as a result of Depression, they die from Depression – an illness that kills millions each year. It is hard to know exactly how many people actually die from Depression each year because the figures and statistics only seem to show how many people die from “suicide” each year (and you don’t necessarily have to suffer Depression to commit suicide, it’s usually just implied). But considering that one person commits suicide every 14 minutes in the US alone, we clearly need to do more to battle this illness, and the stigmas that continue to surround it. Perhaps Depression might lose some its “it was his own fault” stigma, if we start focusing on the illness, rather than the symptom. Robin Williams didn’t die from suicide. He died from Depression*. It wasn’t his choice to suffer that.
literally everything is now a trigger or cultural appropriation and everything is offensive we might as well just not speak or interact or breathe
We learned in art class that technically, black is not a colour, but rather, the absence of. Black was in fact, a shade—one that held its presence in every gradation of grey, only departing completely, with the transition into white. I always thought of white as a clean slate, an un-written page. A snow covered field or a wedding dress. White is starting over, an absolution from all your sins. That day, I was the furthest away from white that I could possibly be.
Why should I retract my claws for you?
What do I earn from playing nice?
I’ll choke on the cries I leave in my throat.
I am not sorry.
If I am angry, I will be angry.
I will be blinding light
I will be rage and shaky hands
I will be venom and teary eyes
I will not laugh at your jokes
I will not tuck my fangs away to smile for you.
I will look you dead in the eye
I will spit out teeth that are not mine.