Maia Tries

I write poetry and editorials which put me in a vulnerable position in the hopes that it can help others feel less alone in their own struggles. I want to help others see all it is that they are capable of.

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Accepting You’re Toxic to Someone You Love

Accepting you’ve become toxic to a person you love is one of the most painful things to do. Providing a negative impact on their life is likely due to selfishness, and to properly apologize to that person, you must resist further selfishness. 
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In an attempt to apologize to a long term friend, I made things worse. I wanted to fully explain myself, but it should have simply been "I am genuinely sorry for how I have hurt you". 
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We weren’t really on great terms at the time.  A year or so prior, we’d had a falling out by my own discretion. I was the one to say I needed space. 
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Doing so likely caused some negative association with some really beautiful memories that person had because I was there with them at the time. I don’t doubt I’ve put a huge overcast on a really wonderful day for them. It’s the biggest regret I have. 
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I don’t believe you should live your life with regrets, but I also think it’s humanly impossible to do so. We all make mistakes, but some are so severe that your only choice is to accept it and try not to fuck up again. 
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When you come to terms with your toxicity to someone, you must resist any urge to make it right. A lot of times, a person's downfall in a similar situation is to continue to apologize (and even worse, ask for forgiveness). I believe in a simple rule; apologize once. If you don’t hear back from that person, accept it and allow them to live their life free of your impact.  
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If you truly regret hurting someone, the best way to make it right is to respect their boundaries. A person doesn’t want to be reminded of what you’ve done or how you have affected them. They just want to move on from it. They don’t owe you a response and you should never expect one. 
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So many times I’ve resisted from attempting to again apologize for my already butchered apology. I think about the people in my life who’ve hurt me so severely that I just wanted them to stay away. I am grateful that they apologized and left me the hell alone thereafter. 
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I absolutely hate the idea that I have the potential to hurt someone - anyone, really. Knowing I’ve caused hurt to people I love and that loved and trusted me is a kind of hurt that I have to live with because it is entirely my responsibility. 
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I’m not at all attempting to martyr myself with this thought piece. I genuinely do believe in what I’m saying. I suppose my writing this is an attempt to solidify this ideology in my mind and help those in a similar situation as myself avoid making things worse with a strained relationship. 
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I do believe that it is always great to reconnect and make amends with someone. However, your choice to do so must be with the full consideration of how the other person would interpret it and if it’s even appropriate to go there. 
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Avoid the selfish compulsion to continue to try to make things right. When you truly love and care for another person, you will ensure you provide them with that they need - especially if that means no longer being present in their life. 


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More

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Everybody Wants to be Heard (Nobody Wants to Listen)

Everybody wants to be heard
Nobody wants to listen
Before even uttering a word
I know not an eye will glisten
My way
Or bother to stay
Around, to hear
What I want to say
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It’s so clear
That I am not worthy of attention
I’m not worthy of care
I’m not worthy of retention
-
In one's memory
This is the end of me
Lost alongside my enemy,
Self doubt, yet it's a friend to me
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I doubt myself because others make me believe it
I doubt myself because I know that i can't conceive that
Someone would care what comes from my lips
That someone would care to hear about when my heart rips
In half.
Why I cry
Why I laugh at the stupidest of things
Why sometimes I wish to die
Why I feel so free when I sing

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Why I sense these feelings creeping
Why I lay up at night weeping
Why it’s simply validation I am seeking. 
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Would you listen to the next person
Who comes your way?
Will you care to hear
What happened in their day?
Will you offer genuine empathy and concern?
Or will you be overcame with the fact that it’s now your speaking turn?



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Hopes

The white noise is deafening

Taking every breath of me

This is just a memory

It will be the death of me

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Why didn’t you say something?

I’m crying, heaving, wanting

To hear your lips speak

To see you fall, weak

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Unable to hold your own

Without my arms bearing the weight

Yet

Unable to call this place home

Unless it is you on which I wait

Here, you come through the door

I told you “no more”

You told me you’ll be kinder

I wasn’t any the wiser

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“I’ll be better, love. I promise”

Your right pinky left extended

I silenced Nostradamus,

Let my foolish hopes stay suspended

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Reliant on the girl who’s

Defiant of the world

Tyrant to her mind

Silent all the time.

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So I come right back around

Remind you why I’m good

“I clean, cook and care for you

Better than any other woman would”

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You crumble at my words

Then remember why I’m wrong

We go back and forth

Our fucked up love song

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By the end of it all

I am drunk

You crawl away silent

We both resign

To our dead hopes confinement.

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Questions

My mind wants answers

Will I end up being paid well?

Should I find a new job?

Will we find a place to move in to?

Am I going to have enough to pay off my credit card statement this month?

Should I start another job?

Do I ask for more hours on the night shift?

Do I become a self start and risk it with my own business?

How the hell do I even start?

Should I still see the dietician if it costs so much?

How can I make more money without losing my mind?

What should I sell?

Shouldn’t I be reading more instead of mindlessly checking social media like I hate doing?

Why can’t I write?

Is it because all I can write about is what happened to me?

All I can write about is trauma and otherwise I’ve nothing of worth to say?

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Will I ever be able to make a cent off of what I write?

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Will I ever make it out of this cycle?

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I am happy...but will I be happy when I come to realize I am still working to pay the bills and nothing more?

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When will I ever financially catch up?

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Why did I ever think I have anything special to contribute to this world?

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Why did I ever think I was unique and valuable?

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How the hell will I ever be able to give something more?

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Are we going to get nuked?

Will the political climate in America ever improve?

Will rapists become more normalized than ever?

Will we really have Roe V. Wade overturned in the 21st century?

Who will be our next president?

Can the United States access my phone at any time considering they sent out a presidential alert without me having service or wi-fi connection?

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What will become of me?

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Will I ever have a career?

Will I ever have a writing career?

Will I ever be financially stable without sacrificing creativity or my sanity?

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Why do I ask questions that I know will be answered with time?

Why do I worry about the things which I cannot change this instance?

Why am I the way that I am?

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An open letter to my rapist.

Yesterday, September 21st of 2018, after 6 years of silence, I finally confronted my rapist. I sent them a video of myself reading this. I d

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Why do I dream

why do i dream of you

When i do not want you

When i want to run away

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Clothing

My shirt hugs my tummy

My shorts are too small

They ride up my thighs

Unfortunately, now all

Can see how worthless

I have become

Because my body is large

I deserve none

Of the respect, love

Or decency of humanity

I am a sickness

I am a profanity

I cannot afford new clothes

That are less likely to offend

But please judge me

As soon as I walk in

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Please take your receipt

I feel

.

Sickened

Disgusted

With myself

.

I think of being 14

Hopeless

Scared

Only one person i could ask for help

I had to pay my big sister back

With what allowance I had

.

.

I think of being 18

Wandering a walmart in a different town

I scanned the aisles

Condoms, lube, spermicide, pregnancy tests (Oh god, pregnancy tests)

Nothing nothing nothing.

I walked the same 2 aisles for 20 minutes.

My eyes bulged from my head

Finally having to resort to ask

“Do you have plan B here?”

“No” an air of judgement and disgust slowly crept by.

We were drunk.

He’s my boyfriend.

I wanted to scream I am not a whore.

Why didn’t he come buy it?

Why do I have to be out here, unshowered, tired, hungover, broke and

Completely ashamed

I went to another store.

Dehydrated

Ready to go home

Please take your receipt.

.

Or being 19

This time in my own hometown walmart

At the self checkout

Ashamedly asking

How to use the coupon

As I reflect

On the night previous

Turned away

Assuming one sided pleasures

Met with what was thought to be two

Without my permission

Without my consent

And what do you say?

What the hell do you say?

When you wanted to have sex but then

Then it’s not what you wanted or thought you were both on the same page about?

When you were told how much he preaches about protected sex

When you both had a long conversation about it?

What does that mean he thinks of me?

Am I that much of a whore? Of disposable trash?

Please take your receipt.

.

I think of rape

Being raped

Seeing in his eyes

What had happened to him

And how he couldn’t leave that moment in the past

So he wouldn’t do it to me.

.

The cycle ends with me

And I sit alone

In self disgust

.

I wonder

What would my life have been like

If it never happened to you

Would it have happened to me?

.

.

And I think now

Of all these men

Only one

Ever went and took the receipt himself.

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The Truth.

You raped me.

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I thank Her

I thanked God for everyday with you.

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How lucky was I to have a boy

who cared about me

for more than sex?

Who loved my body

as it was?

To be with someone so much

more than I was?

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I did everything I could to be Good for you.

I was so Good to you.

But

You didn’t want Good.

You wanted more.

You wanted different.

You wanted her.

You wanted now.

You wanted me when it was easy.

You wanted to leave when it was messy.

You always thought I was easy.

I did want you then.

You knew.

You ravaged me.

You spit on my heart

And left me to clean it up.

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Can’t you see the way that

You’ve Hurt Me.

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I can’t say your name depending on who I speak to

I rarely mention our memories

I shudder thinking about

high school sweethearts

Getting married

Having children

That’s what I wanted with you

Even after you left me

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I shudder thinking

That could’ve been my life

Your wife

Mother of your babies

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I thank God that you left me

I thank God that you didn’t want me

I know she’s up there looking out for me

She’s been fucked over too.

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Sometimes I wish to see you again

Just to tell you what you did to me

Just so I can slap you

with my words and

bitter resentment

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Sometimes I wish to see you again

To pretend my pain doesn’t exist

The way I used to do

And hug you tightly

And ask you how you’ve been

And make sure that you’re happy with your life

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Not because I still love you

Not because I still want you

But because I had cared for you

for so long.

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The last thing I ever spoke to you was “I love you”

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It’s fitting.

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That Love

that I had for you was

naive and pure as it was my first.

toxic and destructive as we trauma bonded.

wholesome and sweet as we were best friends.

simple and selfish as we used each other’s bodies.

lonely. We wanted to be understood. Touched. Heard.

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It was multifaceted,

multiple faces

Only one side ever being true.

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I thank God for everyday without you.

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Piece Me Together

Find my mania and depression

Align them like sky hydrogen

Grab my narcissism and self loathing

Let the pseudo companionship begin

Don’t forget my perfectionism and apathy

I love how they make my mind spin

Be sure to take all the pieces

Soak them up in bottled gin

Absorb each ounce of deceit

Your habits, my addiction

You can always be yourself

Just don’t forget your prescription

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I have some close friends who are currently struggling in school. They are trying to determine what the hell it is they want out of it. If the opportunities of a degree is worth the debt. If it’s worth the mental turmoil. They go because everyone else is going, and if they don’t go, then aren’t they falling behind? Aren’t they keeping themselves from their dream job? Won’t mom and dad be upset? Don’t they need to prove to themselves that they’re tough?