when i blink my eyes
i imagine a whole world || flashing in the dark
October always hurts the most. This year’s ache has had a later onset than previous years, but it started exponentially ramping in the last few days.
It’s brutal having PTSD associated with Halloween. There are more decorations each day, more questions about what parties I’ll be going to (none) or what I’ll be dressing up as (nothing).
Halloween isn’t like Easter, where I can just say, “I don’t celebrate Easter,” and people say, “Oh, okay.” Halloween is beloved. Halloween is fun. Non-participation means you’re a killjoy. It draws raised eyebrows and questions of, “You don’t like Halloween?! Why not?!” I can’t answer honestly without killing the mood or re-traumatizing myself. I have to engage in calculated dissociation to respond without drawing further scrutiny. I am so fatigued.
How do I explain that no no no, I’m fun I swear? That I love any excuse to dress up? That I adore theme parties? That it’s just that this specific day takes me back in time to places I would rather forget but my body won’t let me?
I am just trying to take it a moment at a time, to remind myself that it’ll pass, to give myself permission to still look for brilliant things to punctuate my days, to ask myself, “what is the next most necessary thing?” and focus only on that.
And right now, as I sit in my office at work hiding during the lunch hour, what feels like the next most necessary thing is to engage in art. To send some piece of myself out into the ether. To say, “I’m hiding because I’m hurting, but I’m here, I swear, I’m here. Please see me.”
I want to remind myself that it’s not all bad, that life is hard, yes, but it’s also breezy and mundane and sad and beautiful and can be everything at once. This haiku set will run that gamut. They’re alphabetical.
a compact mirror
balances on my backpack
in the hotel bar
-
a small yellow bird
just shy of the parking lot
lies dead on the ground
-
bookshelf curation
creating the illusion
of effortlessness
-
clicking and clacking
punctuated by silence
intermittently
-
crystallized berry
catches my eye as i sit
sipping on malt scotch
-
do we need to grieve
loss of language that only
we can understand?
-
feel nervous sharing
as i want to protect you
but that's misguided
-
i am made better
for having crossed paths with you
thank you, and goodbye
-
i was searching for
a spark, a fragment of
electricity
-
if i let myself
i think that the tears would come
but i’ll stay hardened
-
intrusive thought says
ring the bell behind the bar
could be fun, why not?
-
knew what i wanted
my preferences held even
in a blind taste test
-
my head is buzzing
it takes all of my focus
to read each sentence
-
red and pink string lights
weave just below the ceiling
soft glow emitted
-
scent of gochujang
fills my spirit, sitting in
anticipation
-
the dining chair's wood
is starting to discolor
from my sweaty thighs
-
time dulls the edges
of memories that once seemed
unalterable
