still solving for x

[thegoodvybe]

[insomniac-arrest]

you: sugar daddy

me, a millennial intellectual: avocado toast patron

[stillsolvingforx-blog]

actually my life

[iglovequotes]

http://iglovequotes.net/

[stillsolvingforx-blog]

i’m afraid

i’ll constantly

be searching 

for you.

just in case you think i have a “type.”

[stillsolvingforx-blog]

It is perhaps troubling that I am nauseated I feel sick with shame I am disgusted As if it were a fault To fall in love In the first place.

As if love were

a guilty pleasure

a nighttime vice

a whispered defect

Since love as they taught me was a woman's job

We know what they say about women's jobs

How could I have been so weak

How could I have decided to feel safe

How could I have decided to be vulnerable in a world that seldom rewards truth?

But

How dare I judge myself

How dare I shame trust in the process

How dare I shame courage

How dare I shame myself for his failing to meet me in holding up half the sky?

[stillsolvingforx-blog]

the grand empress of mistakes

everything is my fault. all the wrongs - i am the embodiment of wrongs. because i am worthless. and i am not doing enough of anything. i am not enough of anything and all my imperfections are inexcusable. you see them, don't you.

and i need to just not want anything because i don't deserve anything. and ambition, the longing, is the worst part of myself. because never being satisfied means a life of more suffering than complacency would allow. and potentially more joy - but sometimes it would be great to just be a thing be an [INSERT IDENTITY AKA CAREER HERE], period. because us humans, we like our binaries and our bifocals - our strictly this and strictly that -  since complexity is overwhelming and living in white supremacy isn't that bad for me anyway except that it is i'd be complicit in the suffering and oppression of millions which is worse than negligent ignorance (or is it?) and i'd have to remember always i'm lesser, lesser, lesser, maybe nanny status, lesser, always. and if anyone comforts me, it'll make me feel guilty for taking up space. if anyone comforts me, i will be angry because how dare you think that i need comforting. is that the impression i give you? and that is the type of wounded i am right now. because if you ask me "are you okay" i will always answer i am okay i am never not okay until you asked the question. because does it show? my not okay-ness? do you think i'm fragile? i am never not okay. don't you forget that one who is shattered cannot break one who is inanimate cannot be wounded one who is violence cannot be at peace one who is not alive cannot be healed 

[stillsolvingforx-blog]

thank god

If I took all the words and made an elixir that made me irresistible

I would still have trapped myself in the unbearably vast reality in which you are Stranger

If you will not drink it.

If my stage is in the mind and my songs are omnipresent

I am still voiceless and My songs are still muted Worse than Forgotten

If you will not listen.

so

Thank god I don’t care Thank god I don’t love you Thank god I remember the bad Thank god I never have to see you again Thank god logic always prevails

Thank god

Do I look like someone who thanks god?

[stillsolvingforx-blog]

she was sometimes obsessed with fetishizing sadness -- as if pain could be sanctified if beautiful -- but "don't feel sorry for me," she also wanted to say, because sadness was not a state necessitating pity -- it was just a way to pass the time -- so "accuse me of being unhealthy," she dared -- since her third eye was all-seeing -- and some contradictions were simultaneous truths

[stillsolvingforx-blog]

And one night, a beautiful man who could play the leading man in any American “chick-flick” (like Hitch or Best Man)

with a playlist rivaling your own (he and his ex loved jazz - it was a major part of their relationship)

held me in his arms,

and “Feel Like Makin’ Love” was playing softly on repeat as we slept in his room smelling of incense, with three lit candles –

the mood setting was incredible incredibly important to him proving to me that

life must imitate art because this was straight out of a Mills & Boon novel –

and all I could think of was how much I wanted to share that song with you.

[stillsolvingforx-blog]

i want to tell you it’s ok

every time

you utter a word in Spanish

I can tell you’re missing her

but sometimes 

when i kiss other men

your name is in my eyes

and so it goes

[stillsolvingforx-blog]

new version

i want to tell you it's okay

when you use those words, like "corazón means heart" (i know) her face is in your thoughts and her love is what you miss.

but it's okay.

sometimes when i kiss other men, your name is in my eyes and your kiss is in my climax. your shoulders are what i miss.

and so it goes.

[stillsolvingforx-blog]

You are cherished

i never sleep well next to You every second//each second each second//every second every second//each second each second//every second each second with You is precious.

And i inhale to hold on to the way You smell

i need/i need/i need i need/i need/i need i need/i need/i need i need/i need/i need to remain conscious to prolong each meeting of Your scent with my olfactory neurons

my ear on Your heartbeat Your heartbeat//Your heartbeat Your heartbeat//Your heartbeat Your heartbeat//Your heartbeat Your heartbeat//Your heartbeat

the beating of Your heart.

i never sleep well next to You because i never know when i'll see You again

[stillsolvingforx-blog]

some unstructured thoughts

My femme appearance conforms to mainstream society’s beauty standards. My age means I’m not yet invisible. This all equates to social capital.

Damn right I’ll take advantage of it in a system that values my body, my physical appearance, my vagina over my intellect (no matter what them boys say about being sapiosexual -- they’re lying to themselves, faux feminists, able-ist snobs, my intellect is not neatly packaged either for your sexual gratification but it can be for a fee). If I am an object. If I am commodified. I might as well have some control over setting the price. Would be nice to say I don’t have a price but that’s not going to pay the bills. I live in reality, not in feminist ideology.

[stillsolvingforx-blog]

dear higher being i dont believe in

please erase every moment he made me feel special to make this distance feel normal

[stillsolvingforx-blog]

i want to tell you it’s ok

every time

you utter a word in Spanish

I can tell you’re missing her

but sometimes 

when i kiss other men

your name is in my eyes

and so it goes

[stillsolvingforx-blog]

[stillsolvingforx-blog]

Greed

They were silent.

He was silent.

The radio on—to deter conversation—

and the car engine.

His thick reliable hands on the steering wheel.

Those goddamn hands.

 They were silent.

Eyes not meeting.

He was silent.

Except for the crunch of leaves.

And her heels. Chasing, always.

She was (probably problematically) never in as much of a hurry.

 But once in a while, 

Unprompted—

((She waited and she yearned))

He would tell a story.

 And once in a while,

Inebriated—

((She yearned and she waited))

He would share a truth.

 And she collected them in her piggy bank      

like golden coins for the arcade

 And she wondered if her piggy bank

was heavier, fuller, than those of others

 And she held her piggy bank close

As if stories were tokens that only exist in one heart at a time

As if intimacy was a limited resource, an excludable good

 She held her piggy bank close

As if little nothings equalled love

 Even though she remembers people who didn’t believe in piggy banks

Who never held their selves hostage.

 Yet she yearned.

She waited.

[stillsolvingforx-blog]

persistence is a learned habit

if you say, more or less, that everyone in the world is too good for you

because you shouldn’t be close to people

i should take your word for it

because i have a history of choosing men i’m too good for.

...but i have a history of choosing men i’m too good for.