( I don’t know what it is about this piece, but it’s been one of the most heart shattering things I’ve ever read for years now. Every so often, usually late at night, I’ll think of the single line from it; ‘We were in the golden room where everyone finally gets what they want.’ I can’t shake it. I feel like it literally lives scripted on every single one of my ribs in the tiniest of letters and reading through it gives me the chills. I don’t even know how I feel altogether when I find it again, but I felt the need to share it, and I’m sure I will share it plenty more times until it exhausts you like it’s exhausted itself into me. It’s destructive and it hurts, it’s haunting but it’s fucking beautiful and there is no ridding of it. Ever. )
Snow and Dirty Rain by Richard Siken
Close your eyes. A lover is standing too close to focus on. Leave me blurry and fall toward me with your entire body. Lie under the covers, pretending to sleep, while I’m in the other room. Imagine my legs crossed, my hair combed, the shine of my boots in the slatted light. I’m thinking My plant, his chair, the ashtray that we bought together. I’m thinking This is where we live. When we were little we made houses out of cardboard boxes. We can do anything. It’s not because our hearts are large, they’re not, it’s what we struggle with. The attempt to say Come over. Bring your friends. It’s a potluck, I’m making pork chops, I’m making those long noodles you love so much. My dragonfly, my black-eyed fire, the knives in the kitchen are singing for blood, but we are the crossroads, my little outlaw, and this is the map of my heart, the landscape after cruelty which is, of course, a garden, which is a tenderness, which is a room, a lover saying Hold me tight, it’s getting cold. We have not touched the stars, nor are we forgiven, which brings us back to the hero’s shoulders and the gentleness that comes, not from the absence of violence, but despite the abundance of it. The lawn drowned, the sky on fire, the gold light falling backward through the glass of every room. I’ll give you my heart to make a place for it to happen, evidence of a love that transcends hunger. Is that too much to expect? That I would name the stars for you? That I would take you there? The splash of my tongue melting you like a sugar cube? We’ve read the back of the book, we know what’s going to happen. The fields burned, the land destroyed, the lovers left broken in the brown dirt. And then’s it’s gone. Makes you sad. All your friends are gone. Goodbye Goodbye. No more tears. I would like to meet you all in Heaven. But there’s a litany of dreams that happens somewhere in the middle. Moonlight spilling on the bathroom floor. A page of the book where we transcend the story of our lives, past the taco stands and record stores. Moonlight making crosses on your body, and me putting my mouth on every one. We have been very brave, we have wanted to know the worst, wanted the curtain to be lifted from our eyes. This dream going on with all of us in it. Penciling in the bighearted slob. Penciling in his outstrechted arms. Our father who art in Heaven. Our father who art buried in the yard. Someone is digging your grave right now. Someone is drawing a bath to wash you clean, he said, so think of the wind, so happy, so warm. It’s a fairy tale, the story underneath the story, sliding down the polished halls, lightning here and gone. We make these ridiculous idols so we can to what’s behind them, but what happens after we get up the ladder? Do we simply stare at what’s horrible and forgive it? Here is the river, and here is the box, and here are the monsters we put in the box to test our strength against. Here is the cake, and here is the fork, and here’s the desire to put it inside us, and then the question behind every question: What happens next? The way you slam your body into mine reminds me I’m alive, but monsters are always hungry, darling, and they’re only a few steps behind you, finding the flaw, the poor weld, the place where we weren’t stitched up quite right, the place they could almost slip right into through if the skin wasn’t trying to keep them out, to keep them here, on the other side of the theater where the curtain keeps rising. I crawled out the window and ran into the woods. I had to make up all the words myself. The way they taste, the wy they sound in the air. I passed through the narrow gate, stumbled in, stumbled around for a while, and stumbled back out. I made this place for you. A place for to love me. If this isn’t a kingdom then I don’t know what is. So how would you catalog it? Dawn in the fields? Snow and dirty rain? Light brought in in buckets? I was trying to describe the kingdom, but the letters kept smudging as I wrote them: the hunter’s heart, the hunter’s mouth, the trees and the trees and the space between the trees, swimming in gold. The words frozen. The creatures frozen. The plum sauce leaking out of the bag. Explaining will get us nowhere. I was away, I don’t know where, lying on the floor, pretending I was dead. I wanted to hurt you but the victory is that I could not stomach it. We have swallowed him up, they said. It’s beautiful. It really is. I had a dream about you. We were in the gold room where everyone finally gets what they want. You said Tell me about your books, your visions made of flesh and light and I said This is the Moon. This is the Sun. Let me name the stars for you. Let me take you there. The splash of my tongue melting you like a sugar cube… We were in the gold room where everyone finally gets what they want, so I said What do you want, sweetheart? and you said Kiss me. Here I am leaving you clues. I am singing now while Rome burns. We are all just trying to be holy. My applejack, my silent night, just mash your lips against me. We are all going forward. None of us are going back.
i know it sounds the most cliche in the world, but i’m real damn good at pushing people away
its like my brain lets me get excited about things, gives me that initial excitement and that giddiness whenever you’re around that person, you know just a cute little taste, and then day by day it just steals away my interest and pushes me into this little shell that doesn’t want to talk, doesn’t want to hang out, just wants to be alone
it’s like some defense mechanism that i don’t fucking know how to control and i’m really starting to wonder how long this is going to keep up
you know some assholes deserve to get pushed out of my life and i’m thankful that i was able to look past them, but there’s some good ones
and there’s a good one right now and god dammit its just happening all over again and its like all i can do is sit and watch, but they don’t believe me. i don’t know how they could.
Wow, really? Way to be a jerk about someone being lonely. Loneliness is usually a very sad and personal thing. How would you feel if someone had that same reaction towards you if you told them something personal? Do you really not see how that was kind of shitty of you?
No, not really. I didn’t respond shitty to them, but it’s fair game for me to have my own opinion. I refuse to get close to people who constantly are vocal about how lonely they are, because I don’t want to be with anyone who doesn’t know how to be alone. It just forms dependent and unhealthy relationships, and I’ve had my fair share of those. I’ve learned what its like to be on my own and be happy with that, and I can’t be with someone who can’t enjoy their own personal space when we’re together. Who can’t sit in the same room with me and consider that company, too.
Especially given that, most of the people I hear it from have given the people around them every reason to leave, probably a lot sooner than they did.
So no, I don’t fit it shitty of me to be cautious getting close to people who outright tell me that they’re lonely. I don’t want someone wanting me because they’re lonely, and when you’re lonely lets face it, you’ll do anything to remedy it. Unfortunate thing is, they’re not realizing that until their own company soothes it, no one else’s will. It’s all just placeholders until they finally realize it.
See thats the thing, I’ve learned and I’m growing, I’m blooming and I would always be there for someone as a friend who is feeling that way, but pursuing them in a relationship? I couldn’t. I wouldn’t want to go back down that road again.
I have my opinions and you have yours, consider it shitty all you want.
I want the beautiful parts of you to touch the ugly parts of me. I think we'd make each other better people. I'd make you so safe. You'd make me so uneasy. Let's build a boat. Let's take it into a stormy sea and leave the life vest on the shore.
Hey Shanny, i need your help please. I think that one of my friends might be suffering from panic/anxiety attacks. I know you mentioned you had them too sometimes so i was wondering if you could tell me, what kind of symptoms/sensations do you experience when you start to feel one coming on? I know it's different for some people but i'm just a little worried so i'm trying to get as much information for him as possible. Thanks so much. Hope all is well.
Aw shucks :( that’s never something I want to hear at all. I mean, ugh I don’t know just thinking about it makes me fidgety and anxious, but everything I experience physically is kind of just a dulled version of the really intense one I had, which was the first, a few years ago. It starts usually (for me) with an intense heat that just swells in my chest (thats pretty much when i know i’m not in control of it), and then my heart will start accelerating and palpitating. I almost always have to be by myself when this happens because idk, literally the sound of someones voice around me makes me have even more anxiety, which doesn’t make sense. The only place I want to be during one is in the hospital because I know if something happened they would be there to help it professionally. The scariest part I guess for me was the fact that my heart would literally skip around at different paces, it would stop a few seconds, then chug really thick, and you just can’t breathe. It’s one of the most terrifying and misunderstood feelings and I wouldn’t wish it on anybody. The paranoia that comes with it too is just idk… darker than I can explain. It’s so hard to dig yourself out of the fact that you feel like you’re going to die, or that your heart is going to stop and give up on you. I remember laying in the hospital bed after the first one I had gotten and I was getting panic attacks/flares of it for nearly 7 hours, and I just looked at my mom feeling like I would rather it just quit so I wouldn’t have to feel it anymore. It’s fucking awful, and I really hope your friend finds the right strengths and ways to cope with it, because its not something that can really just be “cured”.