Sincerely October

Ramble - Routine

R words for dictionary poetry. Book titles used in "read" were written by (in order), Rain M. J. Eden, Han Nolan, and Osamu Dazai.

Ramble
You are sitting at an AA meeting, you listen to the sounds of other alcoholics talking about how they stopped, you are staring at the gray walls like you always do until reality folds in on itself. The hallucinations settle in and you feel your body overcome with tension, your eyes and ears are lying to you again, your shoulders ache under the weight of it all.
Everything is moving and breathing, everything behind a thick sheet of distortions.
There's a grainy filter over everything, things are molding into other things and other things again, you look around for the thing that is untainted, but you do not find it.
Suddenly it is your turn to speak and you place more faith in yourself than is deserved. You try to talk about how you see the beauty of the forest nowadays, but your words fail to convey anything of value.
You can't think clearly, you try and try to make sense but everything is falling apart. You start and you stop and start and stop and you've gone nowhere and are getting nowhere.

Read
Ephemeral heart,
A book that captures what it's like to survive in pieces, a book that captures what it's like to be raped before you ever knew there was a word for it, a book that holds healing between it's pages, a book that lead my eyes to well up with teats on the first page, a book about finding autonomy after having it removed from you.
Crazy,
A book that accurately portrays what it is like to live with hallucinations, a book that captures what it's like to lose your mind but not enough for it to matter all that much, a book that is written with the voices, a book that is so perfect that you don't want it to end.
No longer human,
A book that holds a grand story of disconnection within its pages, a book that knows what it's like to be alone, a book for those who can't take off the mask without peeling off their own skin, a for people who are seen but not known.

Recollection
When left with nothing I was to die or survive in pieces.
If you tell you're dead. If you don't you are close enough.
I couldn't be the one who lays on my back legs spread and knees bent, I could not do this again.
I could not be the child I was supposed to be if I was the child that was raped, I could not smile and laugh knowing he was at home waiting for me, so I became someone else for a little while.
The sun sets and I hear his steps coming up the stairs and I am not myself anymore.
Suddenly I am no longer Elliot, but someone else, someone who lies there barely breathing as the rape plays out again and again, someone who doesn't cry about it, someone who's heart beats so slowing that I would be considered legally dead.
I'll be someone else, anyone else.
Years pass and he doesn't live here anymore, he's not allowed to come by, even during Christmas, I survived, he did not kill me, and if it weren't for the pieces I wouldn't have.
I still find myself living in pieces, becoming someone else every once in a while.
For much of my life I despised the fact that I was in pieces, but I was made to withstand the storm, and that I did.

Reflection
You sit in the grass and stare at your reflection in the river.
You think about all the things you have done, the awful things you have said, the things you have made ugly, the pain you have caused.
You know that to some people you are a bad man, that to her you are someone she was better off never meeting. You think about how he showed you nothing but kindness and you wished ill upon him.
You think about all the things you have done, the people you have left feeling seen, the people you gave a shoulder to cry on, the people you show appreciation too.
You think of the homemade christmas gifts, you think about the time he said you stopped him from doing the thing that would kill him, you think about the people who can trust you.
Are you the man you thought you were?
Are you the man you want to be?

Regretful
Every time you remember it you spend the day wishing you had been different.
You wish you had been kinder, you wish you knew what you know now.
She gave you everything and you left her.
You thought you loved her only to hurt her in the end.
You regret it more than anything, because with everyone else you can apologize, but with her she's gone and she's never returning.
You have dreams in which you apologize, the guilt eats at you most days.
How could you?
You thought you loved her but when it all came to an end you realized you didn't, because people who love you don't act like that.
The regret is a dull ache in your stomach asking "why weren't you better, why weren't you better, why weren't you better?"

Release
I hate it and love it at the same time.
I know I am going to regret it, I can almost sense how this is going to end, but this time will be different.
But it won't, it never is.
My heart feels heavy, I should have seen this coming, in fact I did.
I find myself on my knees again.
The house is quiet and I fill this empty space, the sounds echo throughout my home.
It's vile, I know it is, but when it is all and suddenly done I feel clean.
I feel lighter when it's over.

Remain
I find myself in the same places, again and again.
I always return back to it. Don't I?
I find myself on my knees time after time. I find myself lying about it again.
I start to wonder if I'll ever get better, if I'll ever be able to say it all out loud, if I'll ever live without a secret.
More than almost anything in the world I do not want to be defined by this. I cannot die like this.
I don't want to be the man that's always carrying a weight in his shoulders and is sick to his stomach. I don't want this to be me.
It always remains, even when I take everything away, even when I try and change, even when I try to scrub the badness off of me, it lingers.

Remember
I can't stop thinking about it.
I wanted to do it the way I should, the way everyone else does it, but within hours I found myself on my knees again.
Tears ran down my face, loud coughing filled my empty house.
It was awful in the moment but I found peace in the moments afterwards, clean and near empty.
I ask myself why I drag myself back here, but I guess I always knew it was waiting for me.
It's always been there, holding my hand through the darkest of times.

Romance
I think I could tell him almost everything.
Sometimes he knows what I am going to say before I even mention it, he knows me, more than most I'd say.
I enjoy all our calls, even the short ones where is barely able to keep his eyes open.
He loves me in a way that feels real, there are no conditions to his love, just tell me the truth and I will love all of you.
I admire how he is always trying, that he wants to be well more than anything.
He is deeply authentic, I have not once felt lied to.
I know that I can be anyone with him.

Routine
I write my journal entries every night, each dated with the time and day they were written.
Most days I write more than once. I write about what weighs on me. I write about what I did today. I document nearly every thought and moment.
I drink my coffee with milk. I sit with the warmth and enjoy the bitter yet creamy taste.
I plan my day and take a photo of my to-do list when it is done.  I make a long list knowing I will not finish it. I save the photo in a special album just for my lists.
I pull my words from the dictionary and write about whatever is on my mind. I ramble about my thoughts and write about the words I choose. I always have the dictionary I use in my backpack.