Scents

I’ve lost so many friends this year. And I wonder, is it my fault? And I don’t want to know the answer to that question. Is it because we were never truly friends in the first place? Is it because nothing is real anymore? People place so much value on their social media accounts and appearances. Nothing is real anymore. Forced. Fake. Fragile. Broken. No one wants to share their broken pieces and let others help them mend them back together. Pride. We are all broken. Lost. Lonely. Scared. I can smell it, the putrid fragrance that develops densely, deep within the bones. The scent pierces my nostrils, envelopes my lungs, sneaks into my pores. It becomes me, and I become it. I take it on. It conforms me.

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Captive

I watched you from afar

though I couldn’t see you,

and I still wonder where you are,

a part of me sees you

gazing under the stars.

 

And dear,

even with all of the friction,

the manipulation and confusion,

even with all of the fear

 

I still hold you near.

There’s a part of me

that will not release you

or am I simply

still your captive my dear?

Vulnerability

What do you do when the anxiety you have for no known reason fills your stomach up to your neck up to your head with an unbearable weight which weighs you down with the sensation of sloth, an inability to move or act and all you can do is just sit there and stare? All you can think about is how anxious you are because that is all you can feel, a mad cycle attached with immense difficulty to escape. Surveillance is a substantial way to be brought out of this. When one is being watched, especially by a superior or boss, one must at least act like they are busy or getting work done. When one is around equals, there is a “fitting in” aspect, a joining of a conversation or activity. Both of these can usually get yourself out of your head full of maddening anxiety. Right now I am sitting at a desk writing about it, which probably looks like I’m working to the naked eye of a passerby. But sometimes writing about it exacerbates the anxiety because you are focusing your mind more in on it, the problem at hand. Yet it does help the understanding of it a little more. “Know thyself.”

Vulnerability scares me. I’m afraid to show people my words. I’m afraid of what they think. Have I put myself on too high of a pedestal? What if I’m not up to par? My words are my vulnerability, a complete expression of me. Maybe I don’t want people to know me. Maybe I like to keep people at a safe distance- not necessarily to keep myself safe from them, but to keep them safe from me.