Sincerely October

Unaffected - Unrest

U for dictionary poetry.

Unaffected
I float through life without feeling connected to the world around me.
I live inside my head more than I live in my home.
My feet stand on the ground but my mind is elsewhere, always.
I never feel quite present, always a little ways away, always disconnected.
I feel separate from the world around me, never tied down enough to be affected by my surroundings.
I find that I am far more affected by my own internal life than the external world.

Unbalanced
Things linger, maybe more than I would ever like to admit.
It's always far too much or far too little, forever in flux.
When will I find my way through this?
I couldn't tell you, I just hope I do not find myself hunched over like this when I am thirty years old. I cannot spend my whole life like this.
Surely it will be over by then.
For now this is okay, I will do what I will, but the thought of these things remaining present for the rest of my days makes me want to die young.
I find peace within myself sometimes, I know that I will not let this go on forever. When I see someone who is like me and isn't ashamed to be that way, that keeps me whole.
I do not know how to do this right.
I try to do this normally and I find myself further and further away.
I know that this will not lead to satisfaction at the same time I think it will.
I have been wanting this for so long that I am willing to do many things to get there. I think I've wanted it for so long I find it hard to see happiness without it.
Maybe I know that this is not how to get there but I don't see myself behaving any differently.
I see things changing, slowly I see the habits transform into a different way of being wrong, I see the polar opposites coexisting in one day.
Is this too much? Regret sits at the pit of my stomach.

Unconditional
I feel that I could tell him anything at all and he would still love me. He has held my hand even through my worst moments, he has stayed with me even when I wasn't staying with me, his love is unconditional.
He loved me when I cared about getting high more than anything, he loved me when I never answered the phone sober, he loved me when I relapsed and relapsed and relapsed, he loved me when I thought the drugs were going to kill me and I didn't care, he loved me when I was willing to step over dead bodies to get high, he loved me when I was shaking and sick.
He loved me when I told him I live in pieces, pieces that live far away from each other, pieces with different names, he loved all of me.
He loves me when I spend most of the day talking to myself, he loves me when I live in the disconnect, he loves me knowing I am not quite there, he loves me when my eyes and ears lie to me.
He loves me when I cannot be better, he loves me when I am filling an empty house with noise, he loves me when my stomach and throat are aching, he loves me when I am not ready to get better, he loves me when I don't look the part.
He loves me knowing what I have been through, he loves me despite the story, he loves me and knows it was not my fault, he loves me when I can't hug him back, he loves me when I talk too much about what happened, he loves me knowing these events fundamentally changed me.
He loves me for all of what I am, I have spent so much of my life feeling that I am unlovable, but he shows me that I am not.

Unconventional
I am navigating learning to live in pieces.
I know that each of these parts of myself exists for a reason, they all serve a purpose.
The young one is there to hold the memories that are too heavy for me to carry, he is there to have the childhood I never got.
There is a piece who does the things I am unwilling to do, he is the piece that takes my math test for me when I can not.
There is a piece who disconnects from the moments when they become overwhelming, and without him I don't know where I would be.
There is a piece who protects me when I cannot, who holds the confidence when I can't find it.
There is the piece that laughs with others and enjoys the company of those around him.
I am to learn to live with the pieces, they were made to help me withstand a shaking childhood, and if it weren't for the parts I would not have survived.
Trying to function as if I were not this way only leads to greater struggles, because each part deserves a space and will fight until they are given it.
I must learn to accept my inconsistencies.

Understand
No one understands addiction like the addict does.
I am not sure I would have survived my addiction if I did not go to bed knowing that someone out there sees me.
Drugs clouded my vision in a way I cannot put into words, suddenly everything is whittled down to getting high, I will find my drugs even if I have to step over dead bodies to get there.
He knows what it's like to have blurry vision for days on end. He knows what it's like to detox on your bedroom floor. He knows that I wanted to have it and let go of it at the same time. He knows it's the best I'll ever feel. He knows how hard it is to stop.
Having the understanding that I am not alone, that in his eyes I am nothing to be ashamed of, that kept me alive during my darkest hours.

Undo
In my past I have done things that fill me with guilt every day.
Some of those things I feel I have repaired, I was given a chance to explain myself and really show them that I am getting better, but not with her.
I wish I could go back in time and undo that moment, I wish I could have stopped myself from being so unkind.
I valued her deeply and when the sun set I chose drugs over her.
I didn't see my behavior as problematic at the moment, I was simply taking care of business, but I now find myself wishing I could take it all back.
I didn't see what I had ahead of me.
I sometimes wonder what I would say to her if I saw her again.
I often ask myself why I was so cruel to someone I loved so much.

Undying
The stories and explanations replay in my mind day after day.
They demand space, they demand to be heard.
Why do I feel so disconnected? Not like I would want to do anything else. I'd rather live in my mind than in my house.
Is this too much? Will I find myself where I wish to be? Surely I will. Surely this is the way.
Why do I feel so hollow? I forget that I can be depressed, sometimes days pass before I can see it, even when it's been there the whole time.
Is this worth sharing? Maybe. Maybe I will say it, maybe I won't even dare to write it down.
I think the same thoughts over and over again, day after day

Unheard
The man I once was sits staring at the headstone that could have been his.
The man I once was writes me letters every day, he reminds me of how bad it was, he tells me that this is no way to live, he chases after my car yelling at me, trying to make sure I understand that this is not what I want.
Sometimes when I wonder if maybe I should do it again he reminds me of all the reasons why I shouldn't.
He reminds me of the days I spent detoxing on my bedroom floor, he reminds me of always feeling like I was sick, he reminds me of the hollowness and depression that once consumed me.
If I ever get high again it is because for a moment I let him go unheard, for a moment I distanced myself from him.

Unlearn
I once believed that the high drugs gave me would never be replicated sober, and maybe that is correct, but in the same sentence I must include that the lows are far lower than could ever be experienced sober.
The heights that can be felt with substances are fleeting and leave you far lower than I ever felt on my own. I may be flying for a few hours but when it wears off I am falling to the ground rapidly and am left bruised. 
I believed drugs made me happier, that this was the only route to feeling good, but happiness is far more than feeling good.
I failed to see that drugs left me bleeding out on the bathroom floor, that my ribs were being broken one by one.
Every emotion was followed by something to change it, be it happiness, sadness, fear, or anger, every sensation was meant to be changed, but now I am growing to make peace with how I feel, whatever that may be today.
The more distance that grows between me and the drugs the more I unlearn the lies I once believed.

Unrest
The feeling lingers like a bitter taste in my mouth.
I still find myself feeling ashamed and fearful.
How could I be so vile? Why is my past so dirty?
What happens if I see him again?
I feel haunted by choices I didn't make.
Talking about my past feels like admitting fault.
But it wasn't my fault, I had nothing to do with him.
He wasn't a good man and I was there, end of story.
Still admitting it was what it was feelings like admitting I have done something I shouldn't have.
It's a sense of uneasiness that follows me, even when I am not thinking about the rape it stands near by.
I always live at least somewhat disconnected from the world around me, I refuse to be held or touched.
I feel dirty.
I try to tell myself that it was not my fault, and that it's okay to be affected by these events long after they are over, things will be hard sometimes and it's not because I'm not trying.