Sincerely October

Quailed - Quote

Q for dictionary poetry. Quote in the last poem is taken from a poem by Edgar Allen Poe.

Quailed
My eyes grow heavy and I know it is time to rest, I turn the lights off, I lay my head down and my heart starts racing.
I see hands reaching towards me, I see demons standing in the corners and in the doorway, they stare, everything is distorted, reality folds in on itself.
I know that I am hallucinating, I know that my eyes are lying to me, but my fear remains heavy in my chest.
I want to curl up into a ball so small that you can't see me, I want to walk away from my body, I want to go somewhere where I don't exist.
My body is in a deep seated state of tension, my shoulders ache under the weight of it all.

Quaint
I was broken into pieces at a very young age, fragmented and disconnected, I used to feel so much shame for this. I felt that this was the worst thing a person could be, but I cannot fault myself for doing what I had to do to survive.
I used to think that anything was better than being transgender, that this was something never to be spoken of, that this was to be disregarded, but I am much happier when I don't have to pretend and wonder.
I still have the sense that I am not the man I should be, that men shouldn't look and act and feel the way I do, but I know there is no wrong way to be a man.
Poetry has been a passion of mine for a long time, it has held my hand through my darkest hours, and I sometimes wonder if the people who laughed about it were right, but I know I am lucky to have a fire burning in my stomach like I do.
I feel that I say too much yet at times not enough, that I talk about the aches far too often, that I have put myself in situations where I can no longer be trusted, but I am forever working on growing my complicated relationship with the truth.
I often feel that I am not trying hard enough, that if I put forth enough effort I would be different, but I am trying hard enough, I am doing my best, everyone is.
I am learning to love all the strange pieces of myself.

Qualify
He asks you if you qualify yourself as an alcoholic and an addict.
You do, you have for a while.
You knew what you were, you have known for a very long time, you never grasped how to cut yourself off.
You've always seen the pattern, if something feels good enough you will do anything and everything to find it again, even if it comes at your detriment, even if it kills you.
You remember feeling like this was all there was for you, that you were going to get high until you took your last breath.
You felt that this was the only thing that worked, that nothing made you feel good unless it came in a bag or bottle, this was the only way to feel alright.
As your tolerance climbed you stopped feeling like that, you could fill yourself with any amount of combination, it was never enough for you, you stopped being capable of satisfaction a long time ago.
Coming out of it you still believed that this was the only means of happiness, you swore that this thing was going to save you, even when it was killing you.
When the clarity came inch by inch you still believed it was the best you've ever felt, that nothing would compare, but now you know otherwise.
You know happiness is more than feeling good, it always was.
You look at the months upon months you spent in delusion, you look at all the lies you told, you stare at the ones you actually believed, you are an addict and you know that more than you ever did

Queer
This is certainly not the worst thing a person could be, yet you still find yourself with the sense that it is.
It's not like people don't know, it's not like you even bother to hide it, you understand that people would never judge you for it, you know this because they don't.
You believe that you're not any less of a man but you don't feel like it.
Why are you so ashamed of it?
You feel like everything you do is tainted because you are the way that you are, that people see this before you even speak it.
The stereotypes suffocate you.
People can tell because of the words you say and the way that you say them, they can tell because of the way you hold yourself, you do everything they'd expect you to do in the way that they'd expect you to do it.
You know better, you know that this really doesn't matter, yet you feel yourself being defined by it.

Query
Questions for my future self.
Do you stay sober in a way that matters? Will it last this time?
Do you still dream about him at night? Is he still a free man? Does the rape still bother you?
Did you ever make peace with it? Did it ever stop being something to be ashamed of?
Do you still feel like less than a man? Does that feeling ever go away?
Does your body ever feel right? Do you ever like the person who looks back at you in the mirror?
Do the hallucinations keep getting worse? Do you learn to live with it? Do the symptoms ever take control of you?
Do you still write poetry? Did you finish dictionary poetry? How many words are in your diary?
Did you ever get to meet up with him? How are things going with him?
Are you happy? Are you satisfied?

Quest
I've spent much of my life deeply unhappy, I've spent many years being in pits of depression and aching.
I resigned myself to that, moving through life without any sense of joy. I thought I was going to die like that, but I want to be happy, I always have.
I would one day realize that happiness is to be fought for.
I was to find my peace at any cost, so I went looking.
For a long while I found it in all the wrong places, believing that small bags and large bottles would make me whole, but that was not real happiness, it never was.
After being hollowed and left for dead I went looking elsewhere, and one day I would find what I was looking for. I'd find what I'd always wanted.
I would find passion for the things I adore, I would find love for many people, I would find satisfaction I thought I'd never hold.

Question
You would come to the same conclusion every time.
You know what's true, even when you pretended you knew that something you were saying wasn't honest, even when you wanted to believe the lies you didn't.
You would come to the same answer every time, each hallway you turned down led to the same wall that you would inevitably run into.
You don't want it to be true, you would do many things for it not to be true, but that never works, does it?
It makes sense, every time you realize it things seem to fall in place, but there you go again, running from it, avoiding it, as always.
You berate yourself asking the same questions over and over even though you already know what the answer is.

Quiescent
The day is loud and busy, I get lost in the noise of it all.
I feel a sense of overwhelm everywhere I find myself, the store is deafening, the sounds of their voices leave me exhausted, I have a list of things I'll get done and a longer list of things I should be doing.
My body is full of tension, my mind is in knots, my shoulders ache, luckily the day doesn't end there.
I hug my family and begin to enjoy my favorite part of the day, past sunset.
It is during these times I am truly free.
I write journal entries, I pour myself onto the page and detail the hours that have passed. I write about what weighs on me with no hesitation.
I write for my poetry book, I write about life today. I collect worlds that I will use in next chapters. I ramble on about whatever is on my mind.
Late nights will always be a little sanctuary.

Quiet
For many years I lived a loud life.
I always had a story to tell, I spoke grandly, I wanted nothing more than to feel elated.
I leave those times in my life with stories to tell and a knowledge of my addictive patterns.
Those days were needed, I even enjoyed a few of them, but I much prefer my quiet life.
I love drinking coffee and writing poetry, Love playing board games with my family, I love doing the things I know I should be doing, I love eating brownies at the coffee shop, I love the mundane life I live.

Quote
"And all I loved I loved alone."
I hear those words and feel more seen than I ever have.
No matter where I go and regardless of who I become I have a sense of being alone.
I feel that there is something everyone was born with an innate knowledge of that I have never understood.
I try to do and say the right things but the sense that something not being done as it should be lingers.
Everything I do feels like I am doing it strangely.