Oh my goodness no this is perfect this makes sense to me. (okay this ended up being a lot longer than I thought it would let me put it under a read more)
does anyone else get angry when you’re in a place that you know isn’t “safe” and your sexuality becomes a weapon that other people can use against you
like even when I’m around people that are otherwise friendly towards me. knowing that the space I’m in isn’t a “safe place” to be gay or to be out. that my identity could become a knife that they could use to cut me out.
It makes me. If not angry. Feel dangerous. As if I’m more potent that any other single person in the room.
No single part of me is made to be a weapon. Nor is the sum of my existence to be a tool to be used by others.
And in the same vein, I am through with weaponizing myself to slice various pieces of me into whatever collage best fits each vista, through with feeling like I carry a harmful secret with me wherever I go.
It’s the difference between going through life being an “other” rather than being a “person.”
This is why I’m ready to move and start fresh. I’m ready to be who I am rather than who I have to be for each person or setting that I’m in.
This isn’t really an angsty or depressive post or really anything with any emotion in it at all. It’s more of just… life. And I wanted to get it out there.
Maybe somebody else will read this and know they’re not the only one.
you know I already said goodnight but I cant get this thought out of my mind
that life isn’t just a nice little neat package of written chapters delivered into your lap where each section has a nice little ending that gives you closure to everything that’s been happening to you
and spring has been really kind the past several years. where in 2010 it began the slide, and in 2011 it kinda wrapped that up before the big fall and then 2012 derek and ellen got married and 2013 I met with my mentor teacher from my student teaching and just feels and
life doesn’t really come in nice little chapters like that every single year
but I can’t help but wonder
what spring has in store this year
This is the collection that caused me to stop writing Speaking of Poetry back stories to my poems. More so even than Breaking nearly did, which I finally wrote what at the time was just over a month after I had finished it. I never did think I would write one for Fallen.
Fallen isn’t just about depression, it’s about being (obsessively) in love.
It’s been bugging me for over a year and a half that I haven’t yet posted a Speaking of Poetry: Fallen. But I haven’t really felt able to dive into that emotional mess until recently, and really I didn’t*want* to go back and reexamine those thoughts and feelings. But before I can do that, I wanted to get this one out of the way—it’s the bridge between the poems where I was on my way to the bottom, and the poems where I was looking towards the sunlight hidden at the end of the tunnel.