hands

it’s been a long three months. or whatever.

and every day, i tell myself that i can’t take it anymore, and yet somehow i manage to. and it makes me want to cry, but i guess… there’s a certain kind of power in that too. that you didn’t break. even when you wanted to.

and i miss everything about seeing you. miss dancing around your kitchen like idiots, and finding dumb things to investigate on the internet. and finally understanding what the books meant, when they said i felt infinite. because you made me happy. even if only for a moment.

and i miss your hands. holding onto mine. even when i hated myself. even when i couldn’t stop crying. i miss doing the same for you.

miss not being afraid like this. because at this point, i can’t even remember what normal is. and i’m not totally sure that i want to.

but i do know… that you made me feel safe. in a way i don’t think facetime calls will ever truly replace. and i just… i really fucking miss you.


Ah yes, another lonely social distancing poem. I did not intend to write about this stuff as much as I am, but I guess it’s one of the only ways I honestly know to cope right now. I know I probably shouldn’t be letting myself think about this much, but I’ve been… thinking about the future of late, even if it’s bad for me. About if I’m ever going to go back to even some semblance of normal, or if the world is. I mean, I know, I’m probably just being melodramatic and stuff, but it’s still a scary thought. That this could be my life. And that what’s happening now isn’t going to define me, sure… but I also don’t think I’ll ever forget about it either. You know what I mean? Every time I think about things going back to normal, my brain instantly goes into anxiety mode.

I feel guilty for things that we’re allowed to be doing in  my area–like, even though right now we’re allowed to double the amount of people we’re in contact with, all I can think is that in other places, things are worse, and then I kinda start thinking about “maybe I shouldn’t leave the house at all” and then… yeah, it all goes downhill from there. Schools are reopening in June, and I guess… yeah, that’s a thing. I don’t know how I feel about that, or what I’m going to do. Honestly, I feel like school is going to be stressful as hell, and probably won’t stop reminding us about coronavirus literally ever–it’s just a hunch, but with my experiences with the school system, I would bet money that they’ll be making us write essays about this, and stuff like that–when all I want to do, all I need to do to survive this, is forget about it, until it’s far enough passed that I know how to deal with it.

My current plan is to sort of gradually expose myself to the environment and stuff–my therapist thinks that’s a good idea, anyway. Spend some time on campus, just reading on the field or something, and then maybe walk around before anyone gets there, and then try and catch up with one of my teachers for ten minutes, or something like that–since not maybe people will probably be there, and in that regard, I guess it is a pretty good opportunity to deal with my crippling social anxiety.

Anyhow, I guess what I’m trying to get at here is… things have been really lonely of late. And although I’m trying not to focus on it, sometimes those feelings just sort of peek out, and I guess this poem was my best attempt at processing that.

But I have to believe, for the sake of my sanity, that I will somehow manage to make it through. Just like I always do.

 

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