Saturday, March 5, 2011

life has been unfaithful, and it promised so so much

The thing I hate most about the past is that it's always shifting, remembering always dependent upon where you are in the present. The present lies and makes the past "not so bad," when back then you were immobilized by it. You couldn't have known there was a way out a few steps ahead. The present makes light of the past with the knowledge and it's not fair.

Already I walk around school with eyes that see it as the past. In a few months it will be permanently behind me, and I'm already mourning it. the fear and uncertainty of the future makes me view the past few years as safe and simple. It makes me forget the anger and isolation, the barely-here, the loneliness. I spent the entirety of my time here buried in myself. I didn't have the "college experience" of friends and parties. I had plates of lettuce and bags of vomit, hidden boxes of razorblades and stashes of pills.



Year 1


was wasting away, shivering, the pain of bones against wooden chairs in long lectures. Stumbling across campus, hospital bracelet dangling off my wrist while moving into the dorms, my mother doubting I would make it through the year. She was right. But I can't remember anything but standing shivering on a scale each morning; an apple; the size of my jeans. the blur of waiting rooms and barely caught breath, frenzied nights of floating on nothingness, speeding through Nietzsche and rambling essays.

Year 2
was my return after another semester lost. My highest weight, starving but bloated on anti-psychotics. I don't want to leave my dorm, my old body swallowed whole by this stranger in the mirror. I remember nothing but blood and blades and my mental map of bathrooms.

Year 3 is a fog of falling asleep and nearly flunking classes, a haze of seroquel and zyprexa and lithium. My photo self-portrait showing my suffocation in this body, this mask.



Year 4 was only halfway through, no more strength to force smiles and lift myself out of bed. my brain too devoured to read a single textbook page.


Year 5, I'm at the end. It's taken me so long to get here, so many lies and faking and fighting. I didn't plan on making it here. I have no idea what I'm doing.

4 comments:

  1. And it's OK to not know what you're doing. Try not to sabotage yourself based on not having a clue what you're going to do next. Not to sound cheesy, but great things really CAN happen. College was really hard for me to get through (mostly because of severe depression and crippling social anxiety) and I wanted to quit so bad. It was all worth it in the end though. That degree sits very proudly on my bookshelf in my living room and I've gotten great opportunities based on just that. My life is very much in the air right now & I guess I'm feeling a little hopeless. This comment actually reminded me that even in current despair... good things can come out of it.

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  2. Thanks for listening and for the reminder...I know it's easy to let myself get in the way of good things around the corner. it gets so complicated, though, when you're as equally scared of good things as the bad. the bad is sometimes almost a relief/expected, you know? there's a lot of fear of the future and of succeeding and living a real life. But you're right that things can turn around in a heartbeat, for the better, and sometimes the struggles make you realize things that help you in the long-run.

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  3. "I remember nothing but blood and blades and my mental map of bathrooms."

    I relate to this sentence so much.

    On a different note, congratulations on making it to the end. Not an easy feat, and you did it. You should be proud!

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  4. Thanks so much! it's scary to almost be done, but I am proud for not giving up completely.

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