Writer, researcher, music lover, cancer survivor with CMMRD ("double" Lynch syndrome)

Author: writersamr (Page 20 of 45)

this is not getting over it

I can’t let go because it isn’t over
I can’t let go of something that is
determined to stick around.
and if it has formed part of my identity
that is nothing to be ashamed of
that is nothing to be concerned about
that is nothing to be fixed or talked out of
that is nothing I should try to change.

this is cemented now
this has driven me demented long
enough now
enough now with the moving on
it moves with me
enough now with staying strong or
breaking down
whatever I will be, I will be

I will not let this go because
this will not let go of me

Title inspired by “This Is Getting Over You” by Alkaline Trio.

My mantra today is “hey, at least I wrote something.”

Forgo

my mouth forgoes feelings
so I can feel everything else
the roof of my mouth goes numb
so I can envelop myself
in self-medication
a vacation
for the senses,
a sensible
meditation,
a softening
of the edges.

Quick Medical Update

Really quick update about how terrible things have been because tonight is the first time all week that I’ve felt a bit more like myself, and I don’t really want to dwell for too long on how terrible things have felt.

Continue reading

five minutes

find a corner
that doesn’t look
too grubby.
s l i d e
down the wall until
you are twice folded –
bottom on the floor, arms
around your knees
try to resist the urge
to rock back and forth
fail
let your head fall forward
close your eyes
shut it out
shut it all out
pull yourself inward
stretch the aching
small of your back
make yourself
small
smaller
smaller
pretend you have
disappeared
just for a few minutes
just give yourself
five minutes
here.

Tumblr reblog

Saw this tweet today and it got me thinking:

Yeah, I guess grief is the price you pay for love but though I’m sure I loved my brother as much as a baby possibly could, I don’t remember it and it’s as if he was never here at all. So I’ve paid the price in terms of grief, sort of, in a way, but I don’t feel like I got the pay off of love.

(Context: my big brother died when I was one year old. He was sixteen. I’m 29 and I’m still trying to figure this stuff out. I need someone to tell me how to grieve.)

come alive

maybe I keep writing about you because
I am looking for that one sentence I could write
to make you come alive for me. 

I realise this would be misguided.
I know I can’t make you come back.
It’s just that for me, it feels like
you were never really here.

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