Letters from sixteen

Mary

Poems written mostly while listening to "Mary" by Alex G. A song I assume is about dissociation, hence a theme of this chapter.

Ghost
I was taught to walk away from my body when I was very young and those experiences can't help but linger.
I learned how to watch myself from the corner of the room, I learned how to step away and become a ghost.
I often feel that way still, a ghost, watching the humans move about life as they do, while I watch from the shadows.
I can pretend to be like them, do the things they do, laugh and smile and cry like they do, but I am not them, we are different.
I would love to be human, but my time has come and gone.

Dissociation
I spent this entire week consuming life, I wore it, bathed myself in it, I slept in it, I was living life passionately and loudly.
I felt every emotion one could could, I cried, I laughed, I panicked, I rejoiced.
This morning I woke up on a cloud, I watched the world I was once a part of from above.

Questions for Tomorrow
I often wonder what I will think about today in the months and years ahead.
What will I remember it by?
Will I hear the songs from my little dark age and be reminded of what I made it through, or what I didn't?
Will I remember the warm sensation as something that grew into a life of its own or something that ended?
Will my poetry be nothing but a passing phase or a lifelong passion?
What relationships will grow into great beautiful willows and which ones will wither and rot?
Do I ever write poems about being sober that I don't look back on filled with melancholy?
Do I ever accept and pick up the pieces?
Does he ever go away?
Do I ever get to leave?
Does it ever stop aching?

Aaa love of my life
My father used to have a long string of a's before my mothers name so she was always the first person in his contact list.
They were in love, more than anyone I've ever met, I don't know what changed.
I can make assumptions but truthfully I will never really know why people fall out of love,
All I know is that they did.
It was a fire that went out slowly.
They slept in separate rooms, then separate houses. I should have seen it coming really, but I believed that they would be together forever.
We were eating dinner when they told us.
I made a joke, I did not cry.
But my heart aches when I see the list, her name written plain and simple as if nothing changed.

It's not living if it's not with you
I've tried to let go of him before but I always come back.
See addiction is a funny thing, he will take you and change you into someone unrecognizable, and I find myself coming back for more.
It's always more, you will always want more, you find yourself chasing a high that you'll never find, the perfect feeling that you are no longer capable of.
I know this, I understand that perfect high doesn't exist, but that does not mean I will not chase it.

Life is just a dream
This past week has been so colorful, different shades of red and blue and yellow, yesterday morning I woke up to grey.
The world around me has not changed by my perceptions of it certainly have.
I feel as if I'm watching a movie of someone's life, far from my own.
He has family and friends but this life is nothing but a display on a projector.
It all feels like a surreal dream I am waiting to wake up from.

Ramblings from September
This will likely make very little sense if at all, but I am fine with that.
I write for many reasons, one of them being to release what I do not understand.
I don't understand much of what goes on around me.
Why didn't they see it?
The struggles weren't invisible, far from it actually, I was a child, why didn't they see my pain?
Why don't they see it?
I don't want them to really, but you'd think they'd wonder why I can't keep my eyes open or shake at the dinner table.
None of this feels real, none of it at all.
I watch life move and I play my part. I do the things I must do and wear the mask I should.
But what is it really?
Is that anyway to live?
It isn't, is it?
I write this on a brown couch at a thirft shop not too far from my moms house.
I should be okay.
I can't tell how open my eyes are, they may be dropping, but I'm just tired, aren't I?
Those pills dont effect me like they used to.
Nothing effects me like it used to.
I just went to the art store I used to love more than anything,
I stared at the shelves and walked between the isles.
What happened?
This used to be my sanctuary, where did I go?
I used to grow in all directions, I'd always have more projects going than I could count, now, things have changed.
I don't feel much like myself anymore.