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poem from caitlin conlon

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SIBYLLE PERETTI.jpg

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eggshell.

my letter to khalil.

i havent spoken to you in months. my choice. i didn't trust you. you reminded me too much of a pain that healed a bit too deep. you wasnt the one that hurt me. you were wonderful. fun even. but i was wearing black shades, and i couldnt even see my own hand. but i remembered your laugh. i laugh like you now. i was scared of how easy it felt to fuck you, but how hard it was to say how my day was.

i left you on read in august.

today is december 14th.

you texted me tonight.

you called.

you're with to someone else.

but you thought of me, and told me all the things you liked about me and how sad he was when i didn't see you for you. you noticed even the little things. but i saw you for my past. it was a blurb. and it's haunting me tonight. bc its true. i get in my own way. we couldve been happy together. it wouldve been cool. but it got treacherous to live outside of my delicate eggshell. one step and the shell will shake, and i dont want that, do i? a fragile shell is better than no shell and all exposure.

i was so innocent. he took advantage of me. not you, wonderful boy. the one who locked me in the eggshell, and took my place in the sunlight. ive been trying to come out of it, but he stalks me like a wolf, making sure his prey never leaves. that part is true. ask my friends. ive been stalked bc i loved him. ive been spied on. ive been lied to and on. hes made the campus i live on vietnam. i cant escape him. no matter how hard i try. and im sorry. mostly sorry to myself, but im sorry i hurt you, too. even if it wasnt that deep because you told me you found somebody new that you like, maybe want to be with. i wish i was you. i wish i could leave my egg shell.

if there was a worldwide telegram i could send to you and all the masses, it would say this:

"i want you all to know how im trying. he was my everything. he was a reflection of my freedom. me smashing my toes in the mud. i was 18. swaying through tall waves of grass and light. the love that felt like the one picture of two souls colliding. it was a diaster. i left him at 20. i only knew him for two years for a lifetime of forgetting and moving on.

im still picking up the pieces. every inch of this city i lay my head on for 6 more months has pieces of his curls everywhere. every inch of me reminds me of us. even though all my bodyhas changed. ive changed. ive had some falls. my scars have healed. ive gotten so much healither. but i still get tired and exhausted. life has turned and the world has too. he took my friends. my friends love him more than me. hes all they talked about. so i cut them off. a lot for them actually. im almost alone now. i realized the people that i thought were there for me never were. so i couldnt trust khalil. because it has been brought to my attention that i cant trust myself. so pls know i am trying. it might be a while. but i wont stop fighting to leave this eggshell. im going to keep trying. he suffocates my mouth and neck like soot blowing in a pipe. i keep telling myself itll be okay. but i said that when we broke up. he stalked me, and the soot tracked on my shoe. so i stopped going there. i cried myself to sleep, "itll all be over once he graduates." he got his friends to do his bidding. as i try not to recoil to the unblock button, the world i see before me is crumbling. choking. boiling. burning. it creates more than a scab. i want to text him. but i dont love him. i want to text him to leave me alone. i want him to know that i see him. and iknow he cant be the only one who feels that tension between us when we swiftly walk past. i know im not the only one, if i was, it would just be my tears and healing beside me, and not another memory of him traumatizing me. i would tell him that i saw what he commented. i would tell him i know what he did. i woudl tell him to give me bakc my tote bag because i know he has it. i would tell him to take down my art, because my – your friend told me its still there. i would tell him i know you miss me, because they showed me a picture and you traced over my strokes. i know you miss me, because had your friends try to corner me.

and its not a good thing. i would tell them if he misses me that much, he needs to heal. i would tell him to leave me alone. i would tell him to stop stealing my joy. God and i are begging you to leave me alone. im begging God to tell me that im not crazy. i want to be free. i want to love. i want to stop blaming myself for your war and its aftermath. of course i still care about him. but i want to care about myself more.

the thought of texting him brings so many ideas to my mind. all of them are subjectively terrorist-like to myself and all ive went through. what if texts back? what if he shared it? what if that conversation is not ours, but ours and his pack of wolves? what if they eat me? what if they get me? what if this was their plan? all of the attacks were stragetic to get me back to him? even if it was to curse his existence to his face: its what he wanted. because at the end of the day, he hurt me because he was hurt too.

but what if he changed? what if hes just confused? could we sit in his car, a coffee shop alone. two chairs, two seats, however you put it. sitting. talking. could humanity be like that

as i wrote this letter to u khalil, i remember that you chose to be human for a second, and take a chance. not for the sake of gaining a romantic connection, but just to see what happened. if i was okay. was it something he did. how bad was it> because khalil, you want to love again. and you know, you tok your shot. it was peaceful. we laghed. we talked about our summer together. and i wonder what that looks like for me. but i started to talk about him. thats how you know it was not you. and while it is me, it is someone elses knife inside me, the pinned you when you embraced me. and im sorry. i hope you love her. i hope you hold her tight. thank you.

take care,

from,

melas.

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Marina Tsvetaeva, from “Poem Of The End”, Bride of Ice

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Teresa Murak: “Third Crop” / “Silencing a Thunderstorm”

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tokyo style by kyoichi tsuzuki

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i was not tender and kind today i did not walk gently i slammed a door and birds scattered my sadness was brimming outside of me it wanted to touch the earth i wasn’t a part of it wanted to be held by something that wouldn’t make a fist around it in my head i’m made of sunlight but in real life i walk into rooms and darken every corner in real life i am every shadow in real life i am evidence of light somewhere far far away

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written by kaveh akbar

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Everything okay?

If you or someone you know is struggling, you are not alone. There are many support services that are here to help. For 24/7 peer support and other resources, message KokoBot on Tumblr.

If you are in the United States, please try:

National Suicide Prevention Lifeline (1-800-273-8255) The Trevor Project (LGBTQ youth, ages 13-24) National Eating Disorders Association (online chat, text) RAINN (National Sexual Assault Hotline)

If you are outside the United States, visit IASP to find resources for your country.

For more resources, please visit our Counseling & Prevention Resources page for a list of services that may be able to help.

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such a cool design

pro-abortion: a concern for one is a concern for all stickers now available (4 inch by 1½ inch, gloss, waterproof)

100% of profit will go to abortion funds (currently the Lilith Fund of Texas, The Reproductive Freedom Fund of New Hampshire, & The Kentucky Health Justice Network). fund suggestions welcome at checkout (notes section)

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Abandoned Places by Larry Tracchini

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12/12

do u know what it’s like to not trust your mind? to not trust the very body you live in? because it’s made that way? have u ever submitted to chaos bc it’s bound to collide with shifty reality? have you been tricked by the brain that made sure you ate your favorite ice cream when you were sad? the brain that said yes to being chosen by your favorite person? my brain made sure i made love to him 20 times that day. im not talking about the one I love. im talking about the one who I randomly called on cheated on my love because my brain said “switch it up!” my body was drained. but my mind didn’t care what rest of me felt like. she wanted blood. have you ever had that same brain tell you you’re better not here? that you should jump. im up all night gossiping with my mind about how im a failure. but the same brain got me through college and tests and hardships. do u know what it’s like to not trust yourself? do u know what it’s like?

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< ? > Emo boy makeup breakdown

< ? > Extra

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39 ¾ Hours to Chicago!/City of San Francisco, 1936. Unknown designer. Poster.

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i plant roots so deeply in the people i love that i always lose a piece of myself when they go.

—Beau Taplin

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i wish to be a lonely tree in an spacious field. i wish to grow tall and wide with my branches far, my leaves dense. i wish my roots deep and large grasping the earth tightly like a greedy hand. i wish to befriend the neighboring grass even when they wither away to flirtatious weather i will stand firm and pray for birthing spring. the clouds will hear my cry and bring forth rain nourishing my soil. the birds will nest in my hair, cows will find shelter under me in raging storms. my leaves will clap to the great music of wind and my branches will waltz. i wish to bear sweet fruit so hungry children will eat my harvest and young lovers will carve their names in hearts on my body like a tattooed witness of their blooming love. i wish to age with grace and elegance. when death comes, arborists will count the rings of all that is left of me. my corpse will form organs of books carrying pieces of my soul on dusty shelves in old libraries. then, where my roots lay, a genesis of new generation will spring up and i will live again.

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what if i was still to be bleeding?

what if years after recovery,

suddenly my heart gushes a red

shade once expelled?

am i weak?

is it valid under healing?

will you all laugh at me,

now that my holes and shattered exterior is exposed?

im a fraud.

when the trauma rushes back when i did all that i can?

what can u do?

should we blame myself together?

what do we do?