Oh, Hai

I'm Donna. I do theatre and I write things sometimes. I love cats and Degrassi and mostly cats.

[andimdrowningslowly]

Another Coming Out Poem

“I’m so old I remember when Donna was a lesbian.”

It was a hilarious joke

And she wasn’t wrong.

It’s a weird thing to grieve -

Being a lesbian.

Which is not to say I was wrong about

Who I was

Just that I hadn’t discovered all the parts of me yet

And I’m sure there are plenty left to find.

I clutched onto my first love so hard

And I think it’s a pretty human thing to do so.

After all,

First love is magic,

Toxic,

Naive,

And wondrous.

For the first time,

Someone touched me

And it made sense.

I’d let myself be touched by boys before,

Ones I didn’t really want to touch me,

But was kind of curious about.

When they actually started to touch me

And I realized I didn’t want it at all,

I felt so guilty for changing my mind

That I decided it would be easier

To just lie there and let it happen

Than to speak up and say no.

This woman -

This wasn’t like that at all.

Within days

I finally felt like I knew myself:

A lesbian,

A gay chick

Who reads poetry about how gay she is

And how much she loves women

At the Palisades Cafe on Writer’s Night

With her first girlfriend at the table.

Remember when I got blue hair dye on your dorm room wall?

Loving you

Was certain.

It was one of the most certain times of my life.

Growing apart

Was uncertain

Because I didn’t want to admit it could be possible

That we couldn’t make it work.

I didn’t want to trust myself.

I don’t know who that girl was.

She feels so far away.

A few weeks before I fell in love with boy,

I was declaring my lesbian pride

With my third girlfriend.

I now fight the voice inside my head

Telling me I was a fraud all along,

That I’ve never known what I’ve wanted

When in fact the beauty of desire

Is that it can change

And grow

And bloom.

My mom asked me,

“So does this mean you only date girls now?”

When I told her about my second girlfriend.

“Yes, Mom,

That is what I meant when I told you I was a lesbian.”

What a beautiful feeling of certainty that was.

Now I am certain that the boxes are made up

And look different to different eyes

And sometimes change when the sunlight hits them just right

And the human experience is anything but ordinary

And never quite predictable

No matter how much your life feels like a sitcom.

Now I am certain

That my existence as it is now

Does not negate my existence as it was then

And my existence as it was then

Does not negate my existence as it is now.

I’m bisexual

By definition -

And I don’t like that label for myself.

I feel much more free

As simply queer.

I’m so old

I remember when I was a lesbian.

And somehow?

Somehow,

I always will be

And never was.

[andimdrowningslowly]

I definitely cried and left you a voicemail last night

But this time

It wasn’t about you.

Still feels like some things never change.

[andimdrowningslowly]

You said I don’t have to give you an out.

I guess it’s for the best

I don’t try to offer any ins.

[andimdrowningslowly]

I’ll be your shiny new toy

Until you move on to the next one

Just let me believe I’m special

No matter how short lived that feeling may be.

I guess we’re not meant to be

Because you don’t care to read my poetry.

[andimdrowningslowly]

The Cure

I’m

Not here to say the fish cured my depression

But tonight

I love that there’s a fish tank in my kitchen

And I feel okay.

[andimdrowningslowly]

Pick Me

You’re allowed to change your mind

I just didn’t think that you would.

I just didn’t think it was all me that felt something,

But apparently I was lacking in depth perception

When I saw that you wanted me.

That desire

Turned out to be much more fleeting

And shallow

Than what I thought I saw from where I was standing.

Why was I so full of hope

Even after all this time?

I couldn’t tell you.

Silly we call ourselves hopeless romantics

When the most hopeless of us all

Are the ones that still hope.

I can’t take it out on you

Because you don’t owe me anything,

So I’ll take it out on myself

Because I don’t know what else to do with this sadness.

I said, “Pick me,”

And you said, “No thanks,”

And though I know that doesn’t mean

There’s not a single good thing about me,

That’s what it feels like.

I woke up to the sounds of cats fighting in the alley behind my apartment.

I woke up and remembered that I’m still alive

In the bad kind of way.

Not to be existential,

But can anybody tell me why we’re here?

[andimdrowningslowly]

Too Much Like Me: Part 2

From a young age

I always felt like I felt too much.

I felt as if the intensity of my emotions pouring out of my very existence

Would always be too much.

I am sometimes mistaken for desirable at a distance

But when you see me up close,

You’ll understand that what you’re looking at

Is not long-term material,

Not worth the trouble,

The pros do not outweigh the cons.

I know I’m just as boring

As everyone who I’ve ever thought was boring

And as off-putting

As every man who ever flirted with me in a strategic way.

The very fact that I think something is wrong with me

Is part of what’s wrong with me.

It would be exhausting for anyone to stick around

Based on how much convincing I need

To believe that I am loved.

I require too much -

So isn’t that me again

Self-sabotaging?

Making myself unlovable

To prove no one will love me?

I wrote a song in sixth grade

About feelings I didn’t even feel yet,

But knew that I would eventually.

About the dreams I had of love

And the nightmares I had of rejection.

I thought I knew what pain was

And I was’t right

But I also wasn’t quite wrong.

It was titled

“Too Much Like Me”

And I still am

And will always be.

[andimdrowningslowly]

I'm Bored of Myself but I Can't Help Myself

Years of blue eyes staring back at me.

I didn’t think I had a type

But apparently this might be it,

Or one of them at least:

Clear,

Pale,

Blue ,

A bit wild,

A bit kind -

But not warm -

Cool

And breezy

And much to smooth

For my jagged breathing

And my bleeding heart.

Did you forget that I know how to write?

Sometimes I do.

Sometimes I feel like I only exist if I get it down on paper,

As if that actually gives anything meaning at all.

I’m bored of my own existentialism,

I mean to say,

Are nothing and everything mutually exclusive?

[andimdrowningslowly]

My Underwear Drawer

Evan thought this underwear was cute.

I can hear his voice moving gently closer to me

Until his hands are on my waist

As I lean with my elbows on his desk plugging my phone in.

I left the blue underwear in Virginia,

In Joel’s bed.

I confessed it to him later

And he admitted he found them,

But didn’t say if he kept them

Which makes me think he probably didn’t

Cause I’m somewhere between close enough to return underwear to

And close enough to keep underwear of,

So it’s easiest

To just not talk about it.

I wore the blue velvet ones the last time Evan touched me

And I stopped wearing that front clasping bra

After Micah fumbled with it in his dorm room.

Told him that I had scars

And what they were from

And he said,

“You didn’t have to tell me that,”

Shortly followed by,

“Congrats on losing your virginity,”

Before he disappeared into the literal night

Like every naive college cliche.

A really pretty girl matched with me on tinder tonight

So maybe I can say it’s just men

And not me that’s the problem,

But I guess that doesn’t work

Since I broke up with Hana on the phone in Chicago after watching my friend play Elle Woods in Legally Blonde at both the matinee and the night show

And I cheated on Sadi

With a boy who would buy me a jean jacket

And fall in love with me

The way kids play pretend,

The way he thought it was fun for a weekend

(fingers laced in Central Park,

kisses on the escalator in H&M),

But not for real life.

Sadi left some of her underwear in my bedroom in Atlanta

That we shared far too early into the relationship

And I never mailed it back to her,

But she stole my best fucking jacket

So I think we’re even -

And I know that’s not true.

I know I hurt her more than she hurt me

Because it turns out I’m nothing but a hypocrite,

Always want what I can’t have -

I see Evan’s face in my head when Nigel fucks me

And that’s never happened to me before.

Is this what love is?

Or is this worsening mental illness?

Female hysteria caused by my promiscuity

Just like the theology teachers warned me?

I’m not saying I don’t believe in my right to be a slut,

I’m just saying maybe I’m broken

Because I don’t think it’s supposed to hurt this much

To prove I’m alive.

[andimdrowningslowly]

Blurry

Ratatouille came out in 2007.

I saw it in Florida

With my estranged father

And my brother Eric

And I forgot my glasses at my estranged grandparents’ place,

So I kind of saw the movie

But everything was blurry.

You didn’t reply to the dirty pictures I sent,

So now they’re collateral,

Now I’m an idiot,

Just another girl who can’t see the whole picture.

The contacts that didn’t account for my astigmatism

Made the lights glare so much

That I couldn’t see at night.

Unfortunately, I don’t need corrective lenses

To see all the places I went wrong.

[andimdrowningslowly]

Make it to Shore

I miss you like I used to miss Michael

But I worry that you miss me

The way I miss Sadi

Which is to say

Not at all,

And I’m back on Tinder after 8 months away

Though it feels both longer and shorter than that,

And I deleted all my old matches

To declutter and start over from scratch again,

And I was sad that I didn’t find Dan -

I would have kept you as a match.

I wonder if you deleted your account before you died

Or if you unmatched with me when I left Tampa

Or if you were just inactive on it and there’s some algorithm that deletes inactive matches

Or if we’ve reached the point of the future where the internet figured out you were dead

And erased you as a potential lover

After you erased yourself.

I’m so lonely

And I know you were too.

I would have jumped into the lake with you

If I had known you were drowning

I would have held your hand and swam with you to shore.

It’s okay

If you never really liked me to begin with,

If I was your manic pixie dream girl

And you were some culmination of my daddy issues.

I wish I could have saved you anyways.

You were worth more anyways.

[andimdrowningslowly]

I was half a person

When I hurt you

And no,

That doesn’t make it okay.

I’m sorry.

I’m happy that I’m better

And I hope you’re better too.

[andimdrowningslowly]

First Come, First Serve

Sometimes I just wanna scream to the world

That I’m first come, first serve,

That I don’t care who holds me tonight -

Just whoever wants to.

Swipe right on me tonight, babe.

Send the first message so I know it’s real.

Comment on the photo of me in the unbuttoned flannel;

The one I put on here to make it clear that I’ll fuck you,

That I’m desperate,

That I find it hard to love myself

If I don’t feel like you love me -

Even though this is so far from love,

I’ll let myself believe it’s close enough,

Or at least as close as I deserve.

I’m first come, first serve, baby,

Who wants to take me home tonight?

[andimdrowningslowly]

If it’s me that’s broken,

That’s not fair

Because I can’t fix it.

If it’s the world that’s broken,

That’s not fair

Because I can’t fix it.

I don’t know which one is worse.

[andimdrowningslowly]

Factory Setting

I thought the poem I sent you was funny

And you thought it was overly emotional.

I will take this as evidence

That it’s not just my ego

Suggesting that my resting emotional state is a few ticks higher

Than the standard factory setting.

[andimdrowningslowly]

I don’t have the words

Or not the right ones

Or I’ll think I do

And then all the wrong ones will come out

And in the very act of trying to make you stay,

I scare you away

Because the way to keep someone around

Isn’t to be so afraid of them one day leaving,

And I know that,

And my mouth opens anyways.

I send the message anyways.

Why am I like this?

Why am I like this?

Why am I like this?

Trying not to make this worse,

But I’m spiraling again,

My brains lying to me again,

If I could stop myself,

I would.

[andimdrowningslowly]

Maybe Don't Lend Your Shit to Girls You're Going to Ghost

I want to give you the benefit of the doubt,

But I’ve always been right before

When I felt in my gut

That someone who had cared about me

Didn’t anymore.

You lent me a book right before leaving

And I think I’ll mail it to you when I’m done

With no return address.