the night the stars fell - poetry collection

attention

it's getting bad again.
and i can't breathe. im crying too hard.
and the room is spinning
and i'm on the floor
and he's choking me
and i'm watching myself die
i'm watching him do it.
but it's for attention. right?
my brain tells me it is
so it must be true

i'm walking in school
and i see a boy, he turns the corner—gone—but i can still see him.
and he's forcing me to him
and we're in a closet
and i know i'm screaming
and i know i'm scared.
but i'm still standing right here, not moving,
and he's turned the corner.
he's just
a boy.
and i'm here. and he's there.
but we're both here.
and i'm the only one who sees him.
but i'm doing this for attention. right?
you told me i was
so it must be true

it's oct 21, 2021
and it's the anniversary
and i'm on edge
and i'm binging anti-stress pills. my mind is too loud.
but i see him again and i break down.
and i'm alone in the bathroom
and my lungs are broken
and my eyes won't open. his face is burned into my eyelids.
i can't live like this anymore.
but i'm doing it for attention. right?
because i went to the science lab
unaware he was in that class
and now it's my fault i saw him.

but it's still oct 21, 2021
and i have bees in my stomach
and i need to go home
and i'm out of pills.
but someone grabbed my boob.
and i know it was an accident
i know it was an accident
and i know he didn't mean it
and i know he has a good heart
and i know he doesn't know what happened to me. i know he doesn't know why no one can touch me. why i've had chronic nightmares for two years straight. why no one can raise their hand near me. why i can never have another boyfriend because i'm terrified of intimacy and sex. or how i've never had my first kiss or a healthy relationship. and how i never will.
because i am still living in october 2019
on the floor of my high school gym.
but today is oct 21 2021
and i'm not in the gym
but i was grabbed again
and more of me died.
but i'm doing this for attention right?
you'll tell all my friends i'm a crazy liar
and soon i'll stop asking for help.

im in the counselor's office
reporting the assault.
but his girlfriend found my address
and my snapchat
and my instagram
and my yearbook photo
and my car's license plate
and the school won't check the surveillance cameras. but my assault is in the video.
and i start to feel hands creeping up my neck when she tells me the school won't help me.
that there's nothing they will do.
and trying to help me would "be worse for your mental health".
and i'm the bathroom again.
but this time i'm bleeding
and i did it to myself. no one hurt me this time. and i don't regret it. because it felt good.
i did what i was supposed to.
i asked for help.
and everyone told me no.
and i'm scared for my life.
but i'm doing it for attention. right?
no one will help me
so it must be true

i needed a vacation from my life
something in between the impermanence of sleep and the permanence of death
i got it at a psych ward.
and i finally told the whole truth.
the details i was too ashamed and embarrassed of to share.
how i thought he was attractive
but i didn't want to be touched
how i never said no
but i cried through it instead
how he treated me like his girlfriend—if i was mute.
how i blacked out, forgetting that period of my life for months.
how unexplainable the rape nightmares were.
and how hard the memories hit me when he assaulted me again the next year.
but prazosin saved my life. and the nightmares were gone for a few days.
but i'm still doing it for attention? right?
because i was too weak to fight back?
so i asked for it?

i'm in the middle of my vacation
and a boy tries to choke me. his fingers inches from my neck.
but this one was real.
i know this one was real. it wasn't a hallucination. and i'm not dramatic.
i'm just scared out of my mind.
in the one place im supposed to be safe from assault i almost get choked. again.
and the nightmares come back.
and i forget how to breathe.
and i forget how to cry.
and i forget how to move.
and i hate myself.
and i hate men.
and i hate ptsd.
and i hate prazosin.
and i hate him.
i hate him.
i
hate
him.
but i don't dream anymore
and i'm madly in love with clonidine.
i'm not doing this for attention
my brain knows i'm not
and its the truth.