MIND: Survival

The last six months have been a unique hell,
but that’s finished and I am fine now.

// Sylvia Plath

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SOL: December

25.12.2013.
last night i loved you.
the house was empty and i invited you over on
fucking christmas eve
because my family was out of town and i wanted to see you.
your face and your cologne and your inept hands still
remind me of being eighteen and in love in the
back of your mom’s jeep as the radio
serenades us with wonderwall and it is all so simple.
i told you i loved you and you waited until i was naked to tell me
you have never really loved me and it was all a mistake.
5 years of longing down the drain.
you’re a fucking liar and you love to fuck me, fuck fuck fuck fuck me
fuck me over, i hate you.
i threw you out of the house and sobbed until
my chest collapsed into itself, until there were no more tears and only
a dank pit of anger and resentment.
you don’t deserve for me to turn this into
poetry.

3AM Thoughts // AKA “It took another five years for us to extricate ourselves from each other’s lives.”

SOL: June

10.06.2014.
the gîte is claustrophobic. it became
unbearably hot in the last week and i’m
insatiably waiting for rain to come and
wash away the dirt on the windows and maybe
i’ll be ridiculous and
stand on the porch in the 3am rain
letting it saturate my pores and attempt to clear
away all the past resentments.
i felt so full of i-don’t-know-what energy that yesterday
i rode the bike into the middle of the forest and sat in
the midst of silence and tinkering animals until the moment was
perfect. then i screamed. from the hollows of my bones and out of my mouth
and my jaw hurt from how wide and bellowing the noise was.
i screamed and yelled like a vengeful medusa because i have
been keeping all my secrets and all their secrets and all his secrets and it
gets too much to bear sometimes.

afterwards i felt better and biked home, with no one but myself and the animals the wiser.

3AM Thoughts // AKA “No one likes to discuss the unbearable aspects of empathy.

SOL: May

29.05.2017.
the summer sun is excruciatingly hot
sweat drips down my skin through
coarse pores and it isn’t even 10am
you told me to wait up for you last night and
like the goddamn fool i am, i sat here like a stone until
i woke up on the roof, covered in the remnants of the
citronella candle the wind blew over.
i smell like lemon. my throat is lined with sand. i burn. i ache.
the worst part of this is
i am still waiting for you.

3AM Thoughts // AKA “History Repeats Itself Until The Chemistry Doesn’t.”

SOL: Irrelevant

she looked at me with
eyes full of wonderment and
hurt, lost in reflection
voice lowering an octave as
her throat tightened
heavy with regret

how many people have
i lost from my life because
i thought they saw me as
inconsequential as
i see myself?

3AM Thoughts // AKA “Everything Feels Temporary in a Tornado.”

SOL: Maturity

I find myself coming back to things
I was given before but
Ignorantly tossed aside:
A book, a lesson, a country, a course, a person.
Perhaps they were always meant
To be mine
But they were given to me at
The wrong point in time.
My past holds me tightly in front of
Mirrors and whispers in my ear
Look at what you could have been.”

3AM Thoughts // AKA “It Feels Worse Than Regret, Tastes Sweeter Than Pain.”

MIND: Serpentine

I once watched a snake shed his skin. Discomfort apparently alternating with relief, he stretched and contracted, stretched and contracted, and slowly, slowly pushed himself out the front end of himself. His skin lay behind him, transparent.

The writing of these notebooks has been like that for me.

// Anne Truitt

MIND: Revulsion

My madness now is: why do people want to use me, my strength, my courage, my devotion? Why? Is it my weakness they immediately exploit?

The moonstorm makes me insane, but my insanity is nothing but revolt, the revolt I never expressed or lived out.

// Anaïs Nin