Jukebox Joints

Ali Benjamin, in The Thing About Jellyfish said, “Sometimes you want things to change so badly, you can’t even stand to be in the same room with the way things actually are”

I’ve never kept so silent about something, and mornings are the hardest. You get these 5 seconds of peace, and everything else after that is entirely up to you. Suddenly, the window facing a brick wall was shut, and my blinds are broken so ironically the light gets in no matter what. No one likes to admit that waking up and going to sleep are the hardest parts of their day. It’s all going up in flames because these souls keep setting fire to everything you refuse to let go of.

We say things about how we’re not supposed to miss the individuals that hurt us. But everything we touch acts like a constant reminder. Rather than their being monsters under my bed, there’s a paper bag holding my pride. Something I’m swallowing now in hopes that sleep will come easier. It’s as if wearing your heart on your sleeve is worse than having the tag stick out of your shirt. God forbid someone catches you looking at me the way that you do. Or did.

2016 and I’m not afraid to tell you that my day consisted of me staring at my ceiling, dealing with an emotional hangover. So I ripped off my bed sheets, grabbed a pack of stick notes and stuck parts of this post around my room.

I’m a broken record, I sound repetitive throughout some of these posts and I apologize but things will not change overnight. The idea of “ghosting” is absolutely atrocious because you’re leaving individuals whom were once whole, incomplete because there’s this lack of responsibility you think you have. Because you cannot fathom the idea of someone thinking you’re more than something ordinary. It wasn’t until sitting in silence with a spiked Coca Cola bottle wasn’t enough, and according to the man of his word you no longer were either. The idea that I have to stay silent in order to prove a point worries me because I write what I feel, I can’t let this go unspoken. I’ll always be the more emotional one because that’s who I am. But these pieces of me are slowly being taken, every single time I have to fake two seconds of laughter so they don’t ask questions, and so I can contain myself until I reach the end of the parking lot.

You won’t lose your youth if you hold onto something tightly. But you’re aging when you abruptly let go, and let the other person run ahead. What happens if you can’t catch up? Metaphorically speaking if I dive head first and do something out of character in a club surrounded by pink lighting, again it’s who I am, but you knew that well before anybody else.

There’s still marks left over in the palms of my hands from last night, because I did everything in my power to refrain from reminding you how insane all of this truly is. And when I came to terms with what bottom truly was and felt like, I knew that I had to start fighting like hell for myself. Even if that means staying away from the lessons I’ve already learned time before. Even if that means that you’ll never learn this lesson.



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