Sincerely October

Iris rambles

A chapter written at a happy point in my life.

How could I not?
Writing has always been there for me.
When I was living in a constant summer, a summer so beautiful I couldn't see it until it was over, I was writing.
When I had moments and youth I wanted to capture, I was writing.
When I was naked and bruised, I was writing.
When I started finding summer only in bottles and bags, I was writing.
When I was picking up the pieces of myself and my life, I was writing.
Writing seems to be a constant in my life, something that is always there and always will be.
Lately I've been losing this burning fire in my stomach. I get the sense that I'm telling the same story repeatedly.
I thought that maybe I should take a break from writing. But it seems I always find myself doing it.
I can't seem to pull myself away from it, and I don't want to.

To hold myself
I am starting to think that during this era of my life I am meant to hold myself.
I am meant to learn and understand and grow before I am meant to share my heart.
I am still unknowing my own judgments, I am still learning how to walk on two feet.
Maybe now is the time that I should feel alone.
The days of connection will be seen and felt, I know I will feel the Sunday love on my skin, but for now I am to hold myself.

Untainted
It's almost been a year since I've spoken of the rape.
It has been one of the darkest years of my life, but now I see the morning sun rising.
You see before there was always something wrong, there was always something that ached. I tried to bury these sensations and memories, but they did not rest.
The night before I told someone what happened I thought I was going to kill myself.
I remember how it felt to finally admit to myself what happened, to finally cry over what happened, I told myself I couldn't live with it.
The next day at the hands of something godly and divine I told someone.
I remember sleeping in the living room, on a mattress moved to the floor, and in a fort. I didn't want to sleep in the same bed it happened in.
I tried to overpower the muffled sounds of the memories with the drugs, I thought that maybe this was the only way. I thought the drugs would kill me, and I didn't care.
I didn't want to live through it, but I did.
I told more people than I can count. I don't care if people know this. It's not my secret anymore.
Now I sleep in a different bed, not in the living room or on the floor, but my own bed.
Nothing bad ever happened in this bed, no one ever touched me like that in this bed. I never got high in this bedroom.
It's untainted, I am untainted.

11:54 PM
God keep me sober.
God help me take more strides away from my old way of living, help me keep the past in the past, let me hold it without it bleeding into my present and future.
I have been somehow hollow recently, I can't explain it, I have an overwhelming sense of indifference to everything around me.
I do enjoy my little life, I love writing poetry and drinking coffee, I love going to my meetings, I love finally being able to pick up the pieces.
Six months ago I wrote a poem about being insatiable. Are you satisfied? Will you ever be?
There was a hole in my chest that could not be filled.
I wanted to fill it, I tried to, but I was looking in all the wrong places.
Maybe I will spend many months reminding myself of why I should not go back, but I would trade this summer for nothing, nothing at all.