There’s a sadness that seems to be threatening to crack over everything. Summer has become such a strange season for me. Sometimes it’s beautiful and the balmy heat can be soothing and enrapturing, at other times it turns tumultuous and threatens to swallow me whole. I’m trying to keep my head above water, medicated by copious amounts of caffeine and water.
Hungry men consume women, spit out whatever is left, and then search for their next meal. It happened to me twice after I exited a prolonged period of solitude. At first it was jarring and painful, but now I’ve learned to anticipate the knife. I remember reading a Robert Greene quote that toxic people like to ensnare others in their drama. I gaze at those words in my head and reflect on previous romantic interactions. I’m starting to see the drama, the madness that was generated. The situations were never stable or loving, and threw my body into a cycle of stress.
I’ve been dealing with nausea and migraine issues for the past year from the stress and while it’s significantly abated, it hasn’t quite made its exit. I was under the impression that it was my diet, but when I was last in Guatemala I felt my body relax in a van winding through the farmlands between Antigua and Atitlan. I understood then that my physical issues were a byproduct of anxiety. I feel drawn into everyone’s chaos and spend weekend afternoons trying to calm the frenetic energies vibrating through my body. At some point I overloaded.
There’s a light at the end of the tunnel, I can feel it softly opening up. I want to go home and lay in bed. I want to go home and watch films. I feel like my body has been throbbing with memories of shitty ex boyfriends dragging their chaos into my life. I think about them screaming about not being able to sleep with other women, complaining about the way I dressed, about my armpit hair (I always forget to shave it, I don’t care, I think it’s cute). I think about my ex who paid my rent and had parents that were high profile lawyers. I spent the majority of the relationship shaking in my poverty stricken boots trying to find my way out, terrified they would come after me. I don’t know why love has always been so fucking ugly. I just want decent sex and a good nights sleep.
a soft death 