nonlinear catharsis

nonlinear thoughts, catharsis not guaranteed

[outdividual]

I don’t know if I want to be in love. maybe someday. sometimes. I want to get nowhere safely. I want to be kissed on the head. I want to have sore cheeks from laughing and I want to be touched by the sun.

[outdividual]

how quickly the bags under my eyes appear after one night out. abstaining but hanging around until last call to drive my friends home safely. the cost of my health a small price to pay

[outdividual]

there is a deep-seated belief in me that I am undeserving.

good things are for other people - I am allotted only trouble or baseline. or myself, which I suppose is both.

I want to love and be loved. doesn’t everyone? but I don’t want to be seen. I don’t want to be known.

[outdividual]

if you’re hoping i’ll be different, so am i

[outdividual]

trying to impress a crush

[outdividual]

biting off more than I can chew and calling it healing from a lifelong eating disorder

[outdividual]

couldn’t have said it any better

[outdividual]

I give him my tuesday, (his first) and I give him my number. I give him my friday and my local movie theater, a confession on my knees from the passenger seat floor of my own car. I give him my saturday, give myself to him three times and lend him 2 records.

on monday I give him my tentative thursday and he gives me a choice between watching or doing, both at the art museum.

tuesday I give him my preference for firm logistics. tuesday again (later) he takes his thursday back for a second and offers up his evening later then, or later now.

I give him my wednesday and immediately regret it - a sniffle that won’t quit. I want him to perceive me as the girl looking up at him.

I give him my friday on offer and immediately regret it. there’s a class at 5:30. I need to move my body for me.

the class is canceled. I give him my entire friday evening anyway.

he gives me a ride. we decide on seeing, then listening. two beers, one each.

he tells me he had a nice time last saturday. I tell him me too, and that I have to correct myself.

“when I said I don’t fuck people I like, what I meant is I don’t fuck my friends. and I don’t think we’re going to be friends.”

he sits quietly for a moment - his usual. “what about boyfriends?” he asks.

[outdividual]

YOU CAN’T HURT ME BECAUSE YOU CAN’T AIM

[outdividual]

a crime of convenience and nobody gets hurt.

except maybe me. maybe the boy i’m sleeping with.

maybe the boy i’m sleeping next to.

but there is no law.

so there is no crime.

[outdividual]

breakfast lunch dinner

two black coffees

a corona with a lime wedge at the oldest bar in town

a pickle and 5 fries from a friend’s plate

two lozenges

five minutes of a 6% zyn

[outdividual]

he asks me what growing up was like.

I tell him it was this: bare feet rinsed in the bathroom sink before dinner, scrubbing with a wet wipe if we were lazy. dad calling every sunday and wednesday night at 6pm without fail. hair washed in the kitchen sink and jumping on the trampoline to dry it off.

I just tell him the parts that look normal.

I tell him when we became the new neighbors I became someone else. someone smaller than I was. someone who stopped going outside because I was busy brooding. no bare feet to wash. nothing waiting for them.

I tell him that when we moved, I tried to kill myself and found myself on the floor of my bedroom.

I don’t tell him that I spend the rest of the night bathed in shame for sharing this. unsettled at the hand of myself.

[outdividual]

friday night.

I have a long shower. I turn the water on and while I wait for it to heat I scroll for porn on my phone. I lose twenty-five minutes and cum twice. the shower is lukewarm so I only shampoo. good enough. I sit on my bed in a towel and cum again. thinking, of course. I buy a ticket to the movies. I wear what I wore yesterday but add an extra layer underneath. I rouge my cheeks and nose and pull on a hat.

before I leave, I pass a blood clot the size of an orange.

[outdividual]

I want and I don’t. I want what doesn’t want me back. I want to want what wants. Or maybe who. I don’t know. I want to be alone forever. I want to be unseen. I want to be pursued but I’m too honest to show up as someone else. I want to experience someone else trying. I want to believe that care is common. I want to know it could happen to me. I want to accept it. I want to accept myself.

and I don’t need anyone.

[outdividual]

still is a command and a constant

[outdividual]

there is ease where urgency used to be. there is recognition. there is… potential?

i tell him i’m not in a hurry because i want to be better.

i need more ribs i need more consistency i need a practice i need myself

[outdividual]

he speaks of worship

but kneels at the foot of another

I was never the altar,

just emergency communion - taken when needed, never more

he confessed and sinned anyway.

what’s the punishment for learning a lesson twice?

at least he believes god is a woman