a walk in the rain

and i can’t remember / the last time the world cracked itself open like this / and my hair got wet / and i splashed in the puddles like a little kid / and tried to pretend i didn’t wish you could see it / and it’s funny / how these days anything outside of my backyard feels / like practically a world away / and some days… i’m okay / and some days / i am a broken mirror / desperately trying to duct tape irreparable mistakes back together / and i don’t know how life / can be this way / heartbreaking / and beautiful / and silly / like one of those movies / that’s so fucking stupid / but here you are / four hours in / still watching anyway / and you say it’s old / and you say it’s bullshit / but at the bottom of your heart / you never really believed it  / and it’s strange / that in this moment / i can miss you like a sinkhole opening up in my chest / taking all the good things with it / and also know / that no matter what happens / we’ll get through it.


I know things are hard right now. And this isn’t to underplay any of that. I guess I’m just at the point in my life right now… where I don’t like this, but I also know that I can’t really change it. And I guess while all of this is happening, I may as well make the best of it. Try to… find some kind of silver lining or whatever, I guess. Which is not to say that things aren’t really shitty right now, but I’m also at a point where I can live with it. I don’t like it, but I can survive it. And it’s a good feeling–to feel strong like that. The closest thing to stable I can be, I guess. I mean, it’s not exactly something I get to feel very often.

Anyhow. I hope you all are hanging in there throughout everything going on right now.

Lots of love,

dragonwritesthings

shiver

trigger warning: hopelessness and self-destructive thoughts


and sometimes, i swear i can hear the wind whisper. you know? when i’m all alone in a silent house, sitting on the couch, and my brain’s just sorta… cold. 

and you could give up. you know. sit here forever, until the permafrost wraps its loving arms around you, and takes you as its own. because you don’t really have to do anything, if you don’t want to. and… it’d be a hell of a lot easier, you know.

to just… give up. and lie in bed all day, scrolling through my phone, watching the autumn leaves be replaced by snow.  walk up the endless flight of spiral stairs, that i’ve always kind of known is there, and never come home.

because i’m basically invisible, right? and i mean, if i left… would anyone honestly even know? and i could go. i could forget that this ever happened, and start again.  but somehow… no matter how empty i feel, in that moment, i don’t know. i just can’t do it.

and isn’t it so fucking ironic? that it’s only when you’ve stranded yourself in the eye of the storm, you finally realize…

you were never meant to be alone. 


So because I actually saw one of my friends for the first time in two months today (where I live, lockdown restrictions are finally starting to loosen and our premier just said that was okay a little while ago) and did not work or check my phone other than for, like, two minutes to play a cursed ad I saw on the internet and quickly post a poem on Instagram. Which is not, like, insane or anything, but felt really good, but also kind of took place at the worst time for me to be taking a break, right before a posting day–when I have a ton of stuff to get done, so if this is completely incoherent it’s because it’s exactly midnight right now, and I honestly just want to sleep. So, very ironically, considering this very depressing poem, I’m actually feeling pretty okay right now.

But however, in general, I guess I’ve just been feeling really… stuck. Of late. Getting work done feels like dragging my feet through this thick quicksand, and there’s this little anxiety voice in the back of my head, telling me–that I need to do this thing, I just kinda… sit there, in this weird, sleep-deprived, trance-like state, quite similar to the one I’m in now, watching YouTube or reading or whatever, just completely transfixed and unable to move, so fucking tired it’s not even funny–but the kind of tired where your dumbass brain can’t even think clearly enough, to, like, I don’t know, get some sleep to maybe help with that lovely exhaustion we have there sir?

And I guess it’s just put me in this really dark place, where… I guess I just kind of want to give up? All the time? Everything just feels so fucking hard, i don’t know. I go between sluggish and unmotivated and frenetic and motivated to the point of it being self-destructive. That’s the feeling I tried to channel in this poem. Also, this draws some strong inspiration from my favourite childhood book of all time, Zoom, which is this picture book with this magic house–that features one scene where Zoom, this cat who goes on adventures with his human friend Maria, goes up her large fancy flight of stairs in search of the north pole, and the whole house is all spooky and cold and covered in snow, which is an image that’s always kinda stuck with me over the years for some reason. So enjoy that random fun fact.

Anyhow, I hope that was an entertaining life update to read, and I am going to sleep now and make my therapist proud, because I see her tomorrow. I hope you’re all still holding up okay. ❤

Lots of love,

dragonwritesthings

the yellow brick road

trigger warning: potentially disturbing imagery.

come on. just do it. just follow the yellow brick road. and smile, and laugh, and pose, as the glitter falls like rain, and the harp music plays. and come on. you can do it. just pretend you don’t notice the pain.

put on your pretty red shoes. adjust your gingham dress. and off you go. just like the stories said. and if you ignore the screams in the distance, or the rot writhing inside each and every magic pumpkin… it’s kind of beautiful. isn’t it?

and the vultures swoop down for what’s left of you. and you bite back a scream. but this happens all the time, you know. because you silly little girl, just do what you’re told. just keep walking. just let it go.

just take deep breaths. and ignore it, when the thoughts come for you, sharp needles piercing your skin. fumble for your thimble, and clean out the wound as best you can.

and it doesn’t matter what makes you comfortable. it matters what’s in right now. so curtsy, and adjust your lipstick, and you’ll figure it out somehow.

psychedelic colours. and maybe it’s a daydream. maybe it’s a nightmare. but this can’t be happening. not now.

or at least that’s what you tell yourself. as the blood dribbles down your knee. and it red stains on your shirts don’t even surprise you anymore.

as you stare at the ticking clock on your computer. watching. as you get older, and older…


This is gonna sound really self-congratulatory, but I’m actually so proud of this piece, I don’t think I’ve ever written anything like it before. And that feels good. Really, really good. I don’t know if I’ve felt this proud about a piece in a while. I don’t really know where it came form, I don’t know

 

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.

 

so i’m a sad thirty year old now, apparently

the stars are out. and i should be asleep. like every single part of my body is telling me. and i can’t handle this, and yet somehow… i can’t stop doing it. because at least there’s one thing i’m good at, despite everything.  

and there’s something so addicting, about whole worlds sprouting out from my fingers. and maybe if my life in the real world is over, i can just… escape. forever. 

and i should be proud. but i don’t know how to be. and all accomplishment brings me these days is this weird moment of empty. and i’ve been working on this for so fucking long, that i’m starting to hate it, honestly. and doing what i love shouldn’t exhaust me.

but at this point i’m just… i’m too tired to care anymore. so whatever. just let it be. let the jewels of my mind drift down to the ocean floor. let the dust settle on the pages.

i don’t want to do this anymore.


I have this long running joke with my friends, about how lockdown is slowly turning me into a sad thirty year old, hence the title of this poem. Basically without having friends or whatever my life has been reduced pretty much work and only work, as I’ve probably mentioned before. Like, when I wake up, I don’t think “oh, I’m going to do this fun thing with my friends!”or whatever (because there is no fun thing I’m doing with my friends). I think “what do I have to do today?” And I do it, with more like these little quick intermissions for my life to happen–FaceTime calls and watching movies and reading books and stuff. I guess I’ve just been raised with this really toxic, horrible culture, that work is everything, work is your worth as a person, and you’re never going to be able to do the things you love, no matter how hard you work–because most of success is just having a rich family with connections mixed with random chance. And although I wish I didn’t believe that… I don’t know, I guess I still can’t help but wonder sometimes.

And these days, it just feels like work is… kind of consuming me, I guess. Ever so slowly. Like, I don’t know what my life is without it–and I don’t want to. Because I know I can do this, and do it pretty okay, considering my age. But I don’t feel the same way… about being a person. Honestly, I don’t have a clue how to do that. So instead, I just bury myself in deadlines and projects and responsibilities, and… I stay there. Because it’s easier like that.