Today I am fuchsia. Appalling and implicit like dried blood. My hopes are theatrical and metaphysical. They rise like wildfire. Spontaneous. Devastating. Essential. Today I spoke of my childhood, about what it means to grow up in a world governed by pathogens. Today I spoke of survival. Of breaths furiously drawn and tenaciously held. Of a life where silence kills. Of a life where silence is the only means of survival. I spoke of a protracted suicide played out meticulously in the bowels of a wounded psyche. Today I found the strength to express my incarnation of the Devil.
*
I have survived, an Ouroboros. Needs unheeded and unmet, I existed at my own expense. Sometimes I wonder if there is anyone left inside of me? But in my heart I know that I am inexhaustible. Tenacious. A weed. Greeting the sun somewhere between concrete and infinity. No man of flesh and blood has ever scared me quite so much as myself. What potentiality nests inside these tainted genes? What demons lie in opposition to my sanity? The quintessential soldier who endures because an ill-timed exhalation is synonymous with treason. I know how to survive. My defenses are honed and well-articulated.
*
Living is imperative. A gift long unopened for fear of termination and now here I sit with a box full of unspoiled minutes uncertain of the worth of my tentative schemes. What does it mean to be alive? To be human? What does it mean to forgive oneself? When that self has grown so accustomed to guilt? I am not strong, these confessions, for which my survival now depends are the means by which I withdraw the venom. Left to fester I would die from within, every hollow exponentially expanding, every teardrop, a vestigial sea intent to swallow.
mindlovemisery 
What an exquisite diary entry. I don’t have a diary, but if I did, it would be full of stuff like, I ate too much peanut butter today. Your entry is profound and beautiful.
I am currently in the process of eating too much candy lol All my diary entries aren’t like this some are utterly nonsensical, My hand writing is atrocious some of them will never be read again by anyone because it would literally be impossible to read them I have been making an effort lately with my diary. I want to have a nice diary but I can’t even make myself write diary entries daily, sometimes I take months or years to get back to it I am not very disciplined.
I felt compelled to be kicked out of the chair from how poeticaly good this is!
Awww thank you =) I am talking about my therapy session yesterday emotionally drained now
Wow, this is a SMOKING good write. The real stuff! Brilliant, kiddo! I so relate to “tainted genes” and silence that both liberates yet is necessary for survival. Been there. And yes, THANK GODDESS, we are tenacious. Whew, you can write, girl!!!!!!
Oh wow thank you Sherry!!! I am so glad that you are in a better place now, your blog is filled with wisdom and compassion =)
I love this piece. It’s powerful, beautifully articulated, and I relate (having seen a psychologist about 10 years ago). The second verse is outstanding.
“I existed at my own expense. Sometimes I wonder if there is anyone left inside of me? But in my heart I know that I am inexhaustible. Tenacious. A weed. Greeting the sun somewhere between concrete and infinity. No man of flesh and blood has ever scared me quite so much as myself. What potentiality nests inside these tainted genes? What demons lie in opposition to my sanity?”
All in all, expertly written and thought out. xoxo
Thank you so much Bianca that means so much to me. Did you find therapy beneficial?
Hugely beneficial, but only because I was ready. I saw a psychologist in high school, but I sat their with a mouth full of teeth and couldn’t breathe a word about what was happening to me. I eventually saw a psychologist in London 10 years ago. Like you say, living in silence is the real killer. I only discussed one issue – the abuse I suffered at the hands of an Uncle for several years in high school and beyond – because it had caused so much damage. I should probably write about it, but I find it difficult to share precious parts of myself with an audience who, for the most part, doesn’t seem to give two hoots. But, yes, it made a massive difference to my life. It also helped that my therapist was an amazing woman. She was maternal, wise, warm and incredibly insightful. The kind of woman that you would choose as a mother. I am very grateful to her, because she helped me liberate that aspect of the past that shackled me and caused me to attempt suicide.
How is your therapy going? xoxo
I understand the hesitation, sometimes I write something and end up erasing a few lines before posting because I just can’t quite bring myself to share that part of myself. I never find it easy but when you are ready you will know. I always sit overnight on all my posts to make sure, as I can sometimes hurt myself by being too impulsive. You can always share those poems with a select few of your trusted friends or just write them for yourself as part of your own healing process. I am available to talk. I am really sorry to hear you were abused but I am very happy to hear that you found a therapist that you felt comfortable with and that you were able to break the silence. Therapy is hard I like to do everything myself. I am very obstinate but she seems very nice. I have told her more than any one before so I can tell I am trying hard, that I want it, but I feel very vulnerable.
I can relate to being obstinate and self-sufficient. I think that that’s a by-product of living in silence for so long. As for feeling vulnerable – it’s perfectly natural. But, if you persevere, I think you will thank yourself in years to come.
It’s weird, your past is so different to mine, but I totally relate and I really feel and connect with your writing and your experiences. I am genuinely honoured to know you. You are very inspirational and encouraging. Thank you. xoxo
We’ve both suffered a lot so perhaps that fosters a compassion/kinship. I am so glad to have found your blog. Awwww thank you so much the same can be said of you. I admire your strength as well.
Wow…that’s incredible…I have no words… 🙂 🙂
Awwww Helen =)
I know how to survive.
My defenses are honed and well-articulated.
At the end of perusing through the 2 paras, I’m happy to note the above.This is a powerful positive note! It creates that feeling of wanting to be in control of our actions. And that is perfect! Great write mlm!
Hank
Thank you Hank!
what does it mean to be alive and human…i think those are great questions…love the first one…when hope breaks out like wildfire….that is very cool….
Thank you so much Brian =)
Leaving me breathless, as always. You are a wordsmith.
Why not make a paper/electronic diary? Print the entries, tape/paste into a blank journal or punch holes and put in a binder or use a whatdoyoucallit that has two “legs” you turn up so that the pages stay in place. (sorry, brain is brian tonight). You could include images, marginal notes, etc.
Just a thought — mostly because my handwriting is getting worse, and I recently began rereading a poetry journal I wrote in between 1976 and 1981. There are two others one before and one after but if I found them among my stuff at my mother’s house, I packed them away in the storage locker as they aren’t here with me. The first (missing?) started life as an address book; each page had a name and address, and then I added things that reminded me of them — pictures, material, leaves, etc. And, then poems and so on.
Here I go again brambling/bambling! Most commenters are clear and concise, I’m sure not!
Ack I wish I had written diaries earlier in life, one of my biggest regrets is that I was so late to start writing creatively. I wish I had been practicing diligently all along haha I think I might have to do it electronically and when I am done just make myself a book lol
A book of your diary entries is a good idea — bringing all your thoughts and experiences together. By the way, I’m very impressed that you are willing to share your diary. That is the kind of writing (not as good as yours) I don’t think I could share. I write as therapy, and for every blog entry I post, there are 30+ I don’t — too personal; to hard/hurtful to finish; not polished or interesting.
Maybe some day I’ll reveal more of my self. All the emotions and admissions I put in my blog only touch on the surface, as raw as they seem, there are darker ones too.
I have created a blog just for my diary now
http://curiousflowers.wordpress.com/
There are poems I can’t finish, poems I dare not share and I am sure there will be diary entries that make me flinch. I am always scaring myself I don’t know any other way to get through my fear
Reblogged this on Curious Flowers.
This is beautiful writing. It is a very intense and expressive piece. Very very nice
Oh wow thank you so much for your beautiful words =)