There are times,
those times when our souls
seem to float away from us,
and our bodies stay behind
to suffer and live the tedious, numbing episodes
of everyday life.
That's where I was,
and that was the time.
I was there for what seemed an eternity,
led there by the loss,
then the betrayal,
of my "first true love."
And well, maybe you can imagine the insanity,
the despair,
the suicidal tendencies
that took over me.
So that I had no choice
but to choose to give up my soul,
and send it away, somewhere far,
where maybe it would be safe,
and I could save myself
from myself.
And soon, during that time,
there I was,
with my eyes clouded
and my stomach clenched,
living a life devoid
of any real, free emotions.
So I was abused.
So I was lied to
and molested
and reduced to nothing.
So?
I had, if you will remember,
let my soul go,
and all that was left
was a body,
flexible and active,
but empty nonetheless.
I have learned the limits a body can be pushed to.
I have learned the power of numbness,
and the easiness of simply nodding your head.
With my soul gone and my living
in this cold, thoughtless oblivion,
they came in,
and made me understand,
thoroughly, completely, without doubt,
the meaning of one special, simple word:
misery.
I wrote this poem back in late 1997 or early 1998, when I was struggling with a deep bout of depression. To be brief, I spent half of 1997 "ending" things with an ex-boyfriend (ok, who am I kidding? THE ex-boyfriend), and the early part of 1998 dealing with the fall-out of that decision.
This poem was written on a night when I was angry at myself for how this situation had shaped and determined the nature of my other relationships with guys I dated after him (I use the term "after" loosely here). Basically, I knew I was in no state to date others; in fact, I was too fucked-up emotionally to even properly rebound. Until I dealt with this one person and all the details of our relationship, I was not able to be functional as a partner.
But the night I wrote this, I was also angry with those other guys (casual dating aside, there were two), because I felt like they knew what state I was in and were taking advantage of it. They knew I would take whatever they dished out, because I didn't have the strength nor desire to fight them. I am not sure if they knew the reasons why, if they knew that they were mere distractions in my battle to move on (which was quite hard, considering my ex was still in the picture), but I really didn't care then, nor do I care now.
I thought this poem expressed so well what I felt, what I still feel in hindsight.
And because lately I have been a little angry at myself for having once made such bad (and I knew at the time they were bad!) choices, I thought it appropriate that I post this up.
