Nothing good ever happens to me on the 6 train / and today is no different / coming back from the doctor / I happen to catch the same train / the same car / and sit directly across / from you / girl who ghosted me on Bumble / And that is the great irony of New York / one of the most populated cities in the world / and yet somehow so small / like the suburbs I ran away from in Connecticut / faster than I run from the rats near the 6 / and speaking of running away / hello again bumble girl / I’d like to say you didn’t see me / but you did / raised your eyes from your book / just once / and looked directly at me / for a time that lasted less than a heartbeat / I don’t exist in the hearts around me anymore / just float / somewhere between passing time and / all the skin I don’t touch / invisible / forgotten / It’s funny really / that they call it ghosting / when here I am / realist ghost of them all / feel like I could walk right through these concrete store fronts / Maybe the doctor will call me back / concerned about all this inexplicable gray matter I call / a body / this exhale I call / a heart / Maybe Casper had a sister and / plot twist / she’s me / Maybe running in to you on the train is a metaphor / because truly bumble girl / I don’t know what could fuck my day up more / you / or the MTA / Jokes / it’s def the MTA / I’m lying / anyway / I only talked to you then because I was bored / and you were pretty / I can see it still / your carefully sculpted eyebrows / the pigment of your lipstick / But I’m flatlining / This doesn’t even deserve / to be a poem / I guess I’m still bored / I’m not a ghost / I’m just a gay girl / I’m not a ghost / I’m just a femme girl / waiting / to be seen
Walking in New York
The concrete covering all angles of landscape, as if
reflecting the hardness of everything and
here I am again, making poetry
out of traumas. What is it they say
about water being the source of life?
Surely, the tears have the same power
making me a reborn thing. Again
and again and again.
I am so utterly freaked out that it’s June aka like already December at this point if we’re being real. But it’s not in a ‘lol wow time is flying’ kind of way, it’s more like a ‘holy shit all this time has passed and what was I even doing’ kind of way. It’s making me anxious, but I have to admit that much of this year has felt like a waste. Like I wasted so many months and so much energy for nothing. I suppose on paper I have done a lot, but the majority of the past almost 1 year since returning from Spain has been a lot of holding on/pushing through/hanging in there type existing and that is not at all the way I want to feel. Each year in college I did so so much, like an inhuman amount of stuff, then I graduated and moved abroad and traveled to ten countries in ten months, and now, well, I don’t know? I just worked and lost a lot of people, didn’t fully feel like myself, and tried to convince myself I was okay?
I’ve been reflecting on why feeling like I’ve wasted time has felt so significantly like a loss, and I think it’s because I’ve always seen my time as something that was extremely limited. Honestly, I’ve always had a hard time picturing myself living out a whole life.
It’s not that I didn’t see myself having a future in terms of being successful or whatever, more that I honestly just didn’t see myself IN the future. I couldn’t picture myself truly experiencing joy and love and reason or settling into a particular lifestyle or a life in general. I’ve never been able to really see myself past my mid-twenties. Partially because I always had this strange feeling since I was a child that I was going to die young, but I think also because I couldn’t see myself in anyone older than me, not even my parents. Visibility is so deeply important and for some reason I just never really felt like I could see my full self in the people around me or out in the world — gay, survivor, someone who overcame a childhood disease, someone who fought depression, a witness to and victim in abusive familial relationships, etc. I saw bits and pieces of myself but never my whole self and I got to thinking that I’d had too much baggage, too much darkness, too many complications to really live out a life. I still feel this way a lot of the time, but somewhere along the way I took it on as my purpose to be that image for myself that I couldn’t find, even if it took everything I had. (cue MJ’s ‘Man in the Mirror’)
Even today I can’t really yet see myself growing old. I can’t even see myself into middle age let alone waddling my saggy ass around a porch (idk why but I see an inherent relationship between older people and porches). I can’t see it, but what I do know, now, is that I want to get there. I want my ass to sag someday! I want to live. I want to live, and that, in itself, is a great victory, because I know what it’s like to not really want that. I hope I’m not alone in all these weird feelings about the future. I’m not sure I’ve ever really shared this so honestly with anyone.
And I hope that this next year won’t feel like it’s all so damn hard. That I won’t feel so deeply alone. That I can start to imagine myself in the future, to fill in some of the gaps in my decades to come with conjured up images of me living and living well.
I’m starting to picture next year. My next year will be spent (funny enough) living in Boston! Moving back both scares and excites me. I’m nervous and giddy and a little overwhelmed but I’m happy about the decision. I want to get back to myself. I want to take really good care of myself. I want to let in more joy. I want to just live. Maybe that sounds like a crazy plan, but I don’t care. I need something. I need me. And I hope this change will help me get there.