Sincerely October

Jam session - June

J words for dictionary poetry.

Jam session
We sit in front of a glowing screen and show each other our favorite songs. I'll tell you about the sorrowful yet lovely lyrics, I'll tell you about the memories these melodies hold, I'll show you the saddest songs I've ever heard, I'll show you the sunniest song I've ever listened to.
I revisit that moment in my mind with a familiar ache in my chest.
We both met trying to grow towards the sun, trying to be really happy, trying to make sense of things. When I failed I pushed you out the door, I told you to just forget about it, and for that I am guilty.
I thought I was doing you a favor because I knew I wasn't going to get better, I wish I could tell you that I did.
I wish I could tell you that I'm happy, that I'm sober now, and that the past doesn't hurt like it used to.
I wish I could tell you it's all okay now.

Jaunt
My life is filled with little journeys, each holding a place in my heart, each leaving me glad I pushed through my little dark age
Despite not talking for years we speak as if no time has passed between me and you, I tell you about the beautiful things and the things that leave me aching, you tell me about how your life has changed since we've last met.
We arrived at the river, the water was so cold that we spent a half hour slowly taking steps into it. I found out we had a lot more in common than I thought we did, it seems things I was once ashamed of are traits we share.
We spend hours drawing, you draw a photo of me on my wooden board, we answer prompts with drawings that I will forever cherish.
We laugh loudly and passionately, I apologize for being gone for so long.
I walk into the thrift store, I slowly stroll through the isles, picking up things that match my new style, sweaters and dress pants. I found a pearl necklace that now hangs on my desk chair.
We go hiking in the blazing heat. We talk about ghosts and cold cases. You tell me about the concert you went to last month.
When reviewing these days I believe that this is the life I have been fighting for, this is the embodiment of the hope that I wanted all along.

Jealous
How do you make sense of it?
Acceptance has taken me years, I am only beginning to understand how to live with this, how to make peace with the truth.
I don't know where to draw the lines, I don't know where this starts and I end.
How do you do it? How do you live with these things with such grace?
I am still confused, I am still finding my way.
I want to know everything there is to know about it, I want to have it all listed out in front of me, orderly and neat.
It's not orderly, it never was, it has always been a mess.
I mean what I say until I take it back, I mean it until my mind changes again, again, and again.
I contradict myself ten times over, the truth folds in on itself, the truth is molded into something else.

Jilt
Some part of me had always known what had happened, somewhere tucked away in my mind, I knew.
For a long while I both knew and did not know. I both accepted what he did to me but in the same breath would tell him I wanted to be like him.
I tried to bury it in any way I could, keep it six feet under, cover it in paper mache, and be someone else for a little while.
I remember the night I accepted it, no more splitting this between true and false, this was real, it always had been, I can't keep running.
The memories grabbed me and shook me by the shoulders, they demanded to take up space, they told me they couldn't keep hiding.
I cried that night, knowing that I was going to have to live with this. The sound was deafening, I could not drown it out anymore, true desperation stuck me that night. I felt as if I was pouring out on that bed.
In the midst of all the noise I decided I was going to kill myself, I couldn't live with this, not ever. A strange sense of peace washed over me, knowing it would be over soon provided me with a sense of comfort.
I think angels carried me through the next day, I finally told someone, it came spilling out of me. The space they demanded was finally given.

Jinx
In a way I feel that I never will be untainted, I will always have been ruined by it.
It lingers in more ways than I could ever put to words, more ways than I would ever admit.
I wonder if there will ever be a time when this feeling doesn't return, the sense that I never really had a chance, the feeling that this will never be forgotten.
I feel as if I will never learn to live with this, not honestly, the stories replay in my mind and seem to circle back to nights like this every time.
I am disgusted. What was I to you? Why would you ever put someone you love in this position?
I was a child, I adored you and you killed me.
I feel like I am growing mold.
I never want to be defined by this, yet here I find myself retelling the story again.

Jolt
The reasons why not to add up, for a while I won't see them.
I believe the drugs will make me happy, more happy than I could ever be without them, I fail to see that they made me more empty than I ever imagined I could be.
Relationships become strained or end like a house fire.
I feel sick every morning, I sleep on the floor, my vision has been blurry for days.
I'm numb without them, my mind cannot hold anything anymore, this is sucking me dry.
I didn't see it until it all came crashing in.
I sit on my fathers chair as he yells at me, I tell him what I believe to be true even though it's a lie, away again I go.
The distance between me grabs me by the shoulders and shakes me, I can't live like this anymore, this is never what I wanted.

Journal
I keep a messy page in the front of my diary, a page full of doodles and short scribbled lists.
I draw mushrooms and coffee mugs on the top of my entries, the entries in which I spill my thoughts and day onto the page.
A place for me to tell the stories that replay in my mind, a place to document the good times so I never forget about them.
The second page is a list of tattoos I'd like to get one day, tally marks and me holding my younger selves hand.
I tape in cards and envelopes.
I write a list of my friends and important dates.
I write my to do lists, moments of slow process and progression.
My journals are a reflection of my mind and a video of my life.

Journey
I wouldn't change a thing about the days behind me.
I have wished for things to be different for much of my life, but wishing doesn't do very much.
Those nights shattered me but they did not kill me, I did what I had to do to live and I am glad I did.
I do not blame the child I once was for what he did to survive, he needed to be someone else for a while, and for that I understand.
I am no longer angry that it took me so long to speak up about the abuse, as I could never blame a child for trying to stay alive.
Starting again and again taught me about the life I really wanted and helped me find one worth pushing for.
I am not happy with the person I once was but I am working to be better.
Each time was a lesson on how to be different.
That early morning I was considering suicide led me to learn to live with the truth.
I'm glad I told when I did. I'm glad I didn't kill myself that night.
The constant fighting and denying reality helped me see it a little more every time.
Each time illuminating something I didn't see before, each time making the next a little easier.

Judgment
I often worry that I am in some way unacceptable, it seems the more time that passes the more I see that I am nothing to be ashamed of.
It seems we have this in common, this thing I thought was awful is a part of you as well.
Hearing them talk about what I despised myself for with such ease shows me that it wasn't as heavy as it seems.
Maybe it is true that people can't judge what they don't see, if they don't know the truth they can't comment on it, but what they don't see they can't love.
If they don't know that you are the way you are they can't love you entirely, and that's all I ever wanted, to be seen and loved.
I am still finding my way towards living without fear of judgment, I am still looking for a guideline to living with the truth, all I know is that I am happier when I am not in hiding.

June
Seeing friends I haven't talked to in months.
Spilling myself onto the page.
Living more honestly than I ever have.
Putting the pieces together.
Having more distance between me and the drugs than I ever thought was possible.
Writing poetry in the early hours of the morning.
Filling my research book with new things I've come to learn.
Writing pages of journal entries.
Drinking coffee with my dad on Father's Day.
Filling my sketchbook with drawings of clouds and rambles about life today.
Old interests resurfacing and filling me with elation.
Still loving that character more than life itself.
Calling my boyfriend before bed.
Sleeping with a stuffed animal.
Wearing my dress shoes and fancy sweaters.
Attempting to understand what has always been true.