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People You May Know- Kevin Kantor

When my rapist showed up under the “People You May Know” tab on Facebook, it felt like the closest to a crime scene I’ve ever been. That is, if I don’t count the clockwork murder that I make of my own memory. Every time I drive down Colfax Avenue. Still, I sit in my living room and I sift for clues.

Click

I see myself caught in his teeth. He is dancing with his shirt off in a city I’ve never been to.

Click

He is eating sushi over a few beers with friends and I am under his fingernails.

Click I know that alley.

Click

I killed the memory of that t-shirt.

Click

This is an old photograph. It’s a baby picture. There is also an older man – presumably his father. They are both round and bright and still smiling.

Click

He is shirtless again and I catch my reflection in the weight room mirror. #BeastModeSelfie

I call him the Wolf when I write about him. The Wolf, so as to make him as storybook as possible. The Wolf, when I write about him, which is to say, when my memory escapes the murder, or when the internet suggests it. Facebook informs me that we have 3 mutual friends.

Which is to say, that he is people you may know. Which is to say, that I am people you may know. And there are people that know. And people that don’t know. And people that don’t know, I want to know, I’m afraid to let know. And probably people that know him that know of me that know the word “no”

No.

NO.

The word “no” was flock of sleeping sheep sitting in my mouth and now I know The Wolf’s middle name. And what he listens to on Spotify. And the all too familiar company he keeps and he can no longer be The Wolf. Or the nameless grave I dig for myself on bad days. We have 3 mutual friends on Facebook and now it feels like they are holding the shovel. 64 people “liked” the shirtless gym pic and 4 people have told me that they’d rather I said nothing. 2 police officers told me that I must give his act a name or it didn’t happen. That obviously I could have fought back.

Which is to say, no one comes running for young boys who cry rape.

When I told my brother he also asked me why I didn’t fight back. Adam, I am, right now. I promise.

Every day I write a poem titled “Tomorrow” it is a handwritten list of the people I know that love me. And I make sure to put my own name at the top.

#kevin kantor #writing

I've been thinking about dying a lot lately. I wouldn't consider myself suicidal yet but I think I might be getting close. I feel so frustrated and stuck and for some reason I've always decided the only way out of that is to kill myself. Which is not necessarily correct. I feel very isolated and maybe I did that to myself but it's like everyone I know is moving forward and I'm still here treading water just trying to survive. It's exhausting to feel like this even though I can sleep for twenty hours a day. I want to escape and get away but I don't know how and I don't know where to go. My anxiety isn't all to blame this time because I can feel the depression coming back and that's the part I've always struggled with. I can fight my anxiety but when it comes to depression I'm at a loss. I've lived almost the last decade consumed by some form of mental illness and considering that's about half my life so far it makes sentiments like "it gets better" really hard to swallow. I'm not trying to be negative or insinuate I don't think I can get better. I just feel overwhelmed and I don't want to have to fight this battle again.

myarmscanonlyreachsofar

recovery #04 (vacuum)

today i missed you so much i left the vacuum running for fifteen minutes just to lie beside it and cry

#mitch welling

melisica

#rainy marble

I don’t think about you nearly as much as I used to. That’s not to say I don’t think of you, because I still do. I think about how you were the only person I could wear t-shirts around and I think about your laugh. Your genuine laugh and the way your eyes would squint and your face would turn red. I think the way you used to look at me when you loved me, and your smile when I entered the room. I miss when you used to think about me so often you would call me just to hear my voice. I think about the way you would answer the phone with “Hey beautiful” and nobody had ever called me beautiful before so I never knew what to say. I think about how you knew the exact way to hold my hand so our fingers would fit together, because I could never remember. I think about the look of fear in your eyes and how it was the same the time I fell off the cliff and the time I told you I didn’t want to live anymore. I think about how I never told you about my past until you asked me to go for a drive one night and I realized I was bleeding all over the passenger side seat of your new car. I think about the time you got so angry you cried and I thought you were going to hit me. I think about all the drugs we did. I wish we hadn’t. I think about how we both met each other at bad points in our lives and how differently things could have been if this had all happened a year later. I think about the way you didn’t trust him. And how you said I shouldn’t either. I think about the time you yelled because I had been talking to him and you raised your hand ready to hit me but never did. I think about how I got so scared I ran out of your apartment barefoot and didn’t stop for three miles and how my heart would race with every car that drove past me because I thought it was you. I think about how I never want to see you again, but at the same time I do.

#writing #rainy marble

corporation-cats

#rainy marble #cats #important

I saw your car parked on the street in front of her house. I want to give you the benefit of the doubt but the look my friend gave me as I leaned in the passenger seat to get a better view only confirmed my suspicions. I didn’t want it to be your car. I knew we were in her neighbourhood and I didn’t know where you were but I didn’t expect to find out like this. Time slowed as we drove past and my thoughts turned from “that looks like his car” to “that is his car” when I saw that stupid sticker next to your broken tail light. You said the two of you were done but I guess it’s my fault because you never specified how done. I only feel like I cheated myself by staying with you knowing you’d be unfaithful. I wanted to trust you and I wanted to ignore the way your shirts started to smell like somewhere that wasn’t your home.

It’s 1:49am and it’s been about two hours since I saw your car and two hours since I sent you that text you are ignoring. So I am left on my bathroom floor wanting to unzip my arms and you don’t have the decency to even try and lie to me.

#writing #rainy marble

someguycalledras-deactivated201

#rainy marble

floralls

#flowers #rainy marble

I caNt breAthe

My anxiety has been so bad today. I’m trying hard to not take meds for it but I really don’t know how much longer I can hold off. Fuck. I don’t want to rely on medication I hate this.

Call me.

As I’m moving forward and pointing my life in the right direction everything should be fine. I hate it. I fucking hate my anxiety. Things are so good I should be happy and enjoying my life but here I am riddled with anxiety barely able to make it out of bed. I can’t stop crying.

Call me.

I don’t miss high school. I’m glad I graduated. However I do miss being surrounded by a thousand people who would be there for me if I needed it. I was constantly surrounded by friends and it was easy to maintain those relationships because you saw them every day. Now it’s much easier to cut people off and push people out of my life. I’m excited about my new job but I’m worried because I know it won’t be like my current job where I’m surrounded by people my age that I can make friends with.

Call me.

The first thing I noticed at my new job was there are razor blades and knives everywhere. My therapist would be so pissed if she knew. I know that’s going to be hard. I’m still barely able to handle the box cutters at my current job without going in to a full blown anxiety attack.

Call me.

AND IT’S FUCKING HARD. All I want to do is tear into my own skin but my scars still itch and I don’t want more. This year is supposed to be my year of travelling and concerts. I don’t want to kill myself. I have no intention of killing myself. I don’t want to accidentally kill myself.

Just fucking call me.

#writing #anxiety #rainy marble