cold. in fact i don’t even want to feel. i want my lips to be painted like the sky and my eyes sealed shut, i want my palm to stop touching people and my nose to not remember people’s smells, would i still be aware of this hole inside of me even then? i don’t want to feel, i want my pulses to stop beating in my ear and flowing from top to bottom. i don’t want to feel.

warm. i feel it sometimes, the warmth that comes with meeting and speaking to people you love, but it’s short lived. can’t i feel that warmth forever? lock it into a jar and keep it inside of me, can’t i? why? why can’t i? why do i have to wonder when it happens again or if it even happens? why can’t we be in that moment forever?

hold me

now that i’m warm. i want to feel your warmth. just a little while, just long enough to let it linger, for me to remember if only a bit before the next one… but you couldn’t

hold me

before i get cold. hold me like this is the end and there’s nothing more that can be done. hold me till there’s warmth, till everything nearly goes into flames… but i couldn’t, i couldn’t even be there.

cold. like the early morning weather, just before the sun kicks in. my hands feel cold, squeezed them so tight i can’t feel blood in them. like my heart was ripped out and thrown in a grinder, i don’t want to feel anything that is not warm, but warmth cannot really be appreciated without cold. hot water can become a block and it turns out both can harm me.

talk to me

like we just met and we’re never meeting again, tell me everything you want to say and everything you have said. tell me the things i know and the ones i don’t know, tell me everything, can you please just…

talk to me

i want to hear your voice again. i want you to say hi again, i want you to scold me and yell at me and type in all caps like you always did when i don’t eat. please talk to me…

warm. i want to feel every part of me, i want that fire to be lit inside of me again like i’m a stove that can just be turned on and off, where the flame can be increased and decreased but i don’t think i’m strong enough to keep the flame high always, sometimes it’s high, sometimes it’s low and right now i don’t even know where it is.

laugh with me

just one more time, like we’re two clowns who just squeezed each other’s rubber noses and we’re laughing hysterically and everyone thinks we’re crazy. can you please…

laugh with me

am i asking for too much? do i even have the right to feel this way? i don’t think i really care that much. i just want to hear you once more… please

cold. i don’t want to hear myself. all he does is think and feel and think about feeling. and remember, oh my it’s exhausting. i wish i knew how to stop it but i don’t know how to do that, i don’t know what to do and every week i feel like whatever is left of me just keeps getting snuffed, there’s always something.

dance with me

like it’s just me and you and the music will last forever. like it’s the most beautiful song we’ve both ever heard and we can’t just stop dancing. take my hand and…

dance with me

while you tell me crazy things that happened that day, while you giggle and tuck your imaginary hair behind your ear and do that pouting thing with your mouth. you loved dancing even though you barely could… but we never met.

cold. i don’t want to feel now that you can’t. it feels unfair and life is unfair but i don’t think it’s alright that things are the way they are. i’m fine but i don’t think i am, i just don’t really believe it yet it doesn’t feel real . it’s cold, really cold and i’m shivering under my blanket but it’s…

warm. i want to remember, so i can close my eyes and feel warm again. i want to rewatch everything and look back at the flames, i want to see it. but i also want to be…

cold. like a block of ice. i don’t want to feel. keeping everything away and holding onto just me. ice is not immortal, ice can shatter when it gets…

warm

this will happen again, won’t it?

it’s warm and it’s cold but it’s just me, isn’t it? avoiding and layering it with different words. but underneath it really is warm+cold

the pattern on my sweater, the back of my book, my crocs, and that polka dot dress my friend loves so much. it’s just everywhere and i didn’t even see it this much when i had the chance to be close to law students, it’s way worse now.

black and white.

the color used in movies to cover up gory scenes so blood doesn’t look like blood and injuries don’t look too horrible, it is right? or is that grey?

black and white

the colors pictures used to be before things got “better” and now people edit their pictures to look black and white cause it’s “vintage” and looks cool.

black and white

soulless

you knew this is where i was coming… or did you not?

it’s like things don’t feel complete without color, yes black and white is not horrible but it’s all i see these days.

everything just feels lifeless and empty like an old movie where the colors are missing and the microphone is falling into the frame.

like the cloudy night sky in the absence of the moon

but

but then i found my colors or they found me? i’m not really sure. it’s like i was being scribbled on and they took control of the brush

not too much, just three

three amazing and bright colors painting over the bleak canvas i call my life

why today?

well today is for yellow.

yellow day

for some reason this color is burned into my mind and i don’t even know if it really is her favorite color or she just jokes with it cause it’s funny.

it was like an inkblot at first, i wasn’t even sure what it was, no one really remembers completely how they met someone that became important to them over the years, you didn’t know they’d become part of your everyday life.

all i remember is this little girl that laughs a lot.

but yellow is really cool, i’ve never really admitted this before. she’s so smol which is cute by the way even though she doesn’t admit it.

she has really pretty eyelashes and her skin is currently glowing inside this path and pharm.

yellow is always there for me and i hope i’ve been able to do the same. she listens and scolds and most of all threatens to kill me. she’s so beautiful and smart and obsessed with perfumes. is that too much praise?

well… yellow

it’s yellow day and i hope the coming years are brighter than the sun and even brighter than the yellow you love so much. i told you the reason our glasses are tinted is so our future doesn’t blind us.

i hope that your smile continues to stay bright, you never have to hide your laughter and that you cry less, you’re a big girl now please.

it’s yellow day, not just any other day because it’s you and you’re not just anybody you’re my yamyamm and so many other nicknames we’ve played with before, it’s so much fun having you as a friend. you get it, a lot even with your sarcastic and stupid comments which are not funny by the way.

when did we start doing everything together? 200 level? i think so, we’ve been through thin and thin mehn so one of us needs to get thick soon. i’m counting on you, and you’re probably thinking “how many am i?” while reading this.

i’m black and white and this was for yellow, have a bright day yam yam.

i love you❤️

not!

it called out to me, i noticed the color creep inside but i wasn’t sure what it was. i knew it was you though, so i put on a shirt and walked to the edge.

and there it was orange and blue. it looked warm and it felt warm, i could feel my eyes instinctively squint because it should be bright but it wasn’t so they widened and i could see you even better. orange and somehow red like flames but it didn’t burn— that much. just a bit.

orange and blue. you and me was all i thought about, how the sky and the clouds and the sun managed to make something so beautiful it could drag me out of my bed. but i wasn’t happy, i was just amazed… it was breathtaking but i couldn’t feel anything other than the warmth, let’s blame frank ocean for those feelings.

it was a bit pink too. like cotton candy on one side, looked like an egg yolk in the middle and was just orange and blue all over.

i just stood there thinking of the other colors that could be formed, the magic that could be made in the sky using us. some of it did happen, i stood there and watched.

orange and blue

sun and me

although i’m not big or wide enough to be the sky, i am blue, so i’ll be that since i am not bright enough to be the sun. that’s you, the light that tears through my clouds and the one people stop to admire.

or maybe it’s gold and i’m colorblind, seeing what i want to see. but it looks orange right now… only i saw that didn’t i?

so it’s just orange and me.

it’s currently 8:00 am and i’m really cold, went for a 7:30 class that got cancelled and i don’t know what to do with my life yet so let’s write

…

apparently it’s bad poetry day

but what even counts as “bad poetry”?

when the words don’t sit pretty together?

when the lines don’t sound the same?

or is it about the letters that end each one?

what even is bad poetry?

when the meaning refuses to come out no matter how hard you read?

when the lines twist and turn and confuse you but sound like they should make sense but they don’t?

or is it when the words and stanzas bleed into each other and draw blood from you as well?

is it about that?

is there such a thing as bad poetry?

if there is i might just be guilty of putting that on here

because my words confuse even me

so what’s to say you guys aren’t confused as well?

i just say stuff and sometimes it’s like the words are in control not me

the metaphors pop in my head

like unexpected notifications and i can’t do anything but write them out lest they cloud my mind

i’m sorry

but i doubt that still makes it bad poetry

i don’t know

bad poetry

grass in the wind

where it’s not supposed to be

sorry they’re cutting grass downstairs and it just invaded my mind

…

rhymes in my head

but they don’t come out like i want them to

bad poetry

that just might be the thing for me

i may be a bad poet

but my words have feelings too

and i don’t think i should call them bad

so maybe just for today

since it’s bad poetry day.

top dog? i doubt i’d be on top if i was even a dog that is, i think this has been on my mind since seeing an ad somewhere about how topdogs always eat mud before finding meat, but that’s not why we’re here and it disgusts me. torpor i think, that should be what i wanted to write about, not knowing why your mind is suddenly going flat. tiredness crept in— scratch that, it barged in because there’s nothing that doesn’t exhaust you

worrisome? i don’t know, it’s probably supposed to be torpor but words will be set down one by one here— i’ve missed this i think. i worry, i worry that i make people worry so i decided to disappear, but i worried that will make people worry even more because i think i would worry in that situation, is that too many worries? well sadly i worry that i do not know what i am doing anymore, if i ever did. like i’m just repeating this sad cycle every single day and pretending it’s fine but it’s not. because what if i think it’ll be fine and believe people that say it’ll be so but it doesn’t become fine? what if i just worry and worry and it keeps me from doing anything? what if i just keep floating around and eventually get swallowed by something i cannot currently name?

i worry and worry so much that i don’t think i can ever fully list all my worries and that too is one of my worries…

torpor? or did i just mean stupor, the state i was in or i think i was in when i wrote everything before this. not asleep but not awake either and struggling to understand the pathology of inflammation. it’s like i’m exhausted, too exhausted to even fall asleep and i didn’t know that was a thing, i just sat there listening to music with my jam partner on the other end.

torpor maybe? or is it just fear? fear that i somehow managed to put on top of everything i should be doing. my hands usually shake and my voice is never how i want it, or how i think it is. it’s always quaky and the words never come out right. i fear i’ll never make it out of this school… alive, i don’t know. fear that all this will swallow me up and i can’t do anything but succumb.

…

i wonder if it’s wonder i want to say? i wonder, i wonder what it’s like to be swallowed by the sea, to sway along with the waves and crash with the water, to move with the sea just because i cannot do anything else but surrender, to swim with the fishes and taste the salt. while i go lower and lower, drinking the lord’s gift more than i should, sinking while the fishes swim and hitting the plant bed.

i wonder what it’s like to trust or like yourself even if only a little, to look in the mirror and say yes, you can do this, to look and not hate what you see on the painted glass. i wonder why the wind blows the trees and why it doesn’t blow me away instead, i wonder why we need to eat three times a day when my account balance looks like the smallest of the three times table. there’s a lot to wonder about…

or is it overthink i’m looking for? it doesn’t even rhyme with torpor, it’s just something that’s in the cage too. i overthink why i overthink and then i think about why i’m thinking about why i overthink. there’s just so much just wonder cannot explain. i’m actively thinking of ways to get to the end of the day while staying sane. thinking about whether i’m a nuisance to the people i enjoy talking to and they just hiss whenever i text. thinking whether to eat or not, to leave my bed or not. like what if i’m not a good enough person as i think i am? what if i keep doing the things i’m doing and end up burning for eternity? what if i keep walking and walking and there’s no end? it gets better they say but at this point i don’t even know.

torpor. lost inside of myself and for some reason i had a burst yesterday, an energy burst. i don’t like when it happens because it makes me do things i normally should do but then all at once. do the dishes, sweep, mop, rearrange, cook, eat, write… because i sure as hell was not going to write or start any of this without that.

i keep saying torpor but what if i’m just tired? from the two weeks of morning till evening classes, the crazy workload that is looming, barely getting any sleep and doing what i can to keep this fragile immune system of mine on the healthy side of things. or is it just empty? from the pieces of myself i constantly let go and the times i shot myself in the chest for other people’s sakes.

maybe it’s just emotions? the ones i keep running from, the cages i refuse to open and the things i have to experience because i am “nice” or just stupid? who knows?

top dog or torpor or whatever it is i want to say, i’m exhausted but at least i can write a bit.

i fell and i honestly didn’t plan it, but this girl mehn, nahh

*screams internally

…

this is all scrapped

…

that was faster than i thought lol, hi guys

i didn’t see anybody oh, i was probably hallucinating, what did you think?

…

when i think of her

it’s like there’s fireworks in my heart

and no it’s not palpitations

i know how that feels like

this is loud and it feels so good

when i think of her

i can hear myself thinking of things i want to say to her even if we just spoke

hearing her voice or just hearing from her is enough

enough to feed the butterflies in my stomach

and i’m only writing this because she’s not online

trust i’ll not be here if she was🧍🏽

when i think of her

my thoughts feel less scrambled

less mine and just hers

like everything is being cooked evenly because there’s just one person in the center.

sometimes i don’t even have words

so i don’t know where this is coming from.

…

scrapped. guess i was in too much of a hurry.

things happen and this is just another one of them, misunderstandings and mixed feelings but i really should put my glasses on, i’m seeing things.

i’ve been seeing too many things that aren’t there these days, or seeing extra stuff around what is there, even though i thought there’d be something clear because i was clear, i guess not.

scrapped, cut short

but i did do it with all of me though and i don’t regret it, infact i’d probably hallucinate again, love fast crash fast? is that how things go now because i just might be an f1 driver.

i’m glad it became clear soon enough though it drew blood so i slapped a patch on lol

second cut in the same spot and you’d think i might take it better but it was even worse this time.

third time’s the charm but after path and pharm please, don’t aim for my heart now abeg i don fence am.

scrapped because i was scared something was off and it was, in a way? just not what i expected, i was me and i know i’m not always clear but i tried to be crystal like that day and the days after. but it was all a fever dream maybe?

scrapped.

i can’t scrap the feelings though, i always knew i was dumb just not this dumb. did everything but what’s not there is just not there, just wish you told me sooner, my dream…

scrapped

you guys shouldn’t be seeing this cause it’s allegedly scrapped but you know, it’s you guys and this is basically my diary. i’ll hold on to the smoke though, learned from the last time, was clearer from the beginning this time, but it just didn’t feel real still.

scrapped and it’s just my heart

beating in your hands, give it back at least. we’ll still be just not that i guess, i could keep a piece with you but give the rest back please.

scrapped from bottom to top i guess, what now?

hii guys

i should be asleep, have classes in like 6 hours and i’m up because of… something. it’s been on my mind for awhile, wait totally unrelated but i am totally excited and happy right now for some reason.

Back to what brought me here… oh i even did something to show it, does anyone ever feel like their mind is a plate of eggs? not raw eggs, those ones are whole and packed in a shell, they’re coherent too. not boiled eggs, even without the shell they take shape, they stick together and stand strong with smooth surfaces and sharp demarcations. i’m– we’re talking about fried eggs, not your sunny side up; that shows more of an imbalance yeah? everything is on one side while the other is just flat. we— well she()said scrambled eggs, i realized it is so true and like how have i never thought of it?

so anyone?

anyone else ever feel like they’re thinking about one thing and then remember another thing which could be totally unrelated so they stop and think of something else. or while doing something you forget what you were doing because you saw something else, you could be washing dishes but then you see dirt on the floor so you stop to sweep then you get back to your room and decide to dress your bed and lay in it, after awhile you remember you are hungry so you go to use dishes but they’re just sitting there. scrambled. every piece may or may not be connected but it’s still your mind.

too busy to finish this but i’m back, currently sitting in class and i remembered, she said it’s not running away but you never know.

anyone ever find it hard thinking of one thing at a time? the egg is never in one piece, there’s always something that gets cut off, something that gets put on another, something that gets buried and everything is just mixed up. could be thinking of drinking water but then i remember i have to get up and lock my door, then i lock the door and lay on my bed forgetting about the water, till God knows when.

sometimes it’s not even one thing over the other, sometimes it’s similar things— options present in different volumes, some are overseasoned– everyone is doing it so you think you should too, some parts are under seasoned but you might enjoy it, no one is there and it’ll be peaceful for you. somehow they all just mix together.

other times i feel like i break the eggs in too fast shells get inside. they prick and crack and they taste like sand. they interrupt the flow but you can’t help it when you’re racing through thoughts.

it’s just exhausting, having to deal with thoughts that never stay constant, that keep getting tossed and turned in a frying pan and seasoned irregularly. scrambled eggs huh?

but we’re filtering them together, the eggs and maybe even some shells.

that’s how it’s spelt right? i’m talking about the thickening of some parts of my palm from lifting buckets in school, but there should be more. i just need to squeeze it out.

hi my name is ace, i felt like i should do an introduction since i don’t know who i am anymore. it’s like everytime i think i know me something happens and i shift to someone else.

i recently realized i get too attached to people, it’s not supposed to be a bad thing but what if they leave? what then? i’ve experienced a lot of lessons and i still get attached, my heart never learns. it still races when i hear the name of people who left, i wonder if i’d survive meeting them again.

hi my name is ace and my heart may be calloused too, or should i say scarred? yeah that sounds better, it’s taken knives and somehow still beats for the hands that stabbed it, sounds stupid right?

i didn’t just realize this, but i was reminded of the fact that i am a friend lover… or i just have so much love to give. i don’t know how to keep it inside me and even when i’m taken for a fool i still love most times. text when there’s little to no replies, again and again because i need to know you’re fine, care with everything in me for some reason.

i hate how much power people have over me, because i’ve fallen ill over people’s actions or emotions, either way it’s really not normal in my opinion.

i miss people too much, like where are you? why aren’t you replying my texts? how was your day?

am i still ace? because i’m no longer home and my mum thinks i think she’s disturbing me. trust me it’s not that, i am just really bad with phone calls, i barely know how to do them, it’s always awkward. i don’t know how to talk about most things and convey my feelings, even face to face… except with kudi sometimes.

that’s like the major reason i started writing, there’s just so much inside of me and i can’t express them properly.

am i still ace? there’s 500 of you and i don’t know how to take that, it feels unreal to me, because most of the time i just be writing what comes to mind, to think people want to read that.

…

calloused legs from i don’t know, running in circles? chasing something that is probably not for me, i should stop, i think i have but we’ll just have to see.

witnessed and heard of people die in the hospital last month. one was right in front of me, doctors are not magicians sadly. and i don’t think most people understand that they’re only humans too, yes they do their best to make sure you get better, but at some point it’s just out of their gloved hands. it’s sad having to watch people die and then seeing their relatives take the news.

emotions are horrible, well maybe just mine cause i can never seem to understand them, it’s not normal to be sad everytime is it? it’s not like i’m sad, i’m just not bothered to feel bubbly or happy most of the time i don’t even feel anything. my mom clocked it so i’ll have to pretend in front of them, either that or i have to open up to them and listen to another lecture on why i should pray more from my dad while my mum probably cries in the corner.

you know for someone with bad memory i sure do remember a lot about people who don’t care about me, what do you mean i can still identify your smell? still know how we met, but if you asked me what i wore yesterday i won’t be able to tell you.

i’m tired. tired of caring but i can’t stop. i don’t know how. tired of falling sick, but i can’t just quit school because i see no other reason i should be going through such a shitty time if not school.

it just takes and takes and gives back crumbs.

callouses callouses

proof of struggle… this much struggle though, there’s no way God thinks i’m this strong. i can’t take much more honestly.

this feels all over the place, but that’s just how my mind is.

i really need to get things in order.

and i was wrong

it’s my fault

you weren’t the one

…

yellow and white

like butter on bread

taste good together

but bread on its own is fine

while i just sit in a container

…

it’s time i left it, no?

i should brush off the crumbs

and smoothen myself out

you don’t have to do anything

don’t pretend to care

…

yellow and white

pretty together

but you glisten even better with jam

yellow and white

i guess this is it?

…

i should stop

stop seeing myself spread across your day

stop imagining the end of our story

i’m melting and i’ll take everything with me

…

just stay back

…

yellow and white

looked pretty in a pattern

but i guess this bread doesn’t like butter

so i take a bag, almost everywhere, i’m trying to stop since i don’t have a really small cross bag yet. big bags are stressful to lug around.

i don’t know where i’m going with this but

…

does anyone else randomly feel like a pocket? not the big ones, not the new ones, not the ones that have a zip or a button or something small to keep them secure, i’m talking about those pockets that your hands can’t even fit into properly, talking about old pockets and the ones that the stitches fray, the fabric feels loose and everything seems to have run their course.

anyone?

well, it’s like there’s only so much i can hold and someone with very big hands is trying to shove everything his hands can hold and the entirety of his hands inside this small pocket, and i fear… it makes me fear that one day the things i try so much to keep will fall out of me without me noticing. that the things i want to keep will just burst through me and leave me torn beyond repair.

anyone ever felt like a pocket? those big ones? the ones that pull pants and clothes down so much people try to avoid using them, or limit the way they use them. anyone? well, they’re so big, they want to hold more, they feel like they can but just as they take on more responsibility everything around them begins to fall apart, they pull down pants and tear off shirts. they were made to hold more but the surroundings, the greater part of them was not, so they can’t.

has anyone ever felt like a pocket? you know, those ones that are sealed shut? there’s these type of pants that have pockets but they’re sewn shut for some reason, yes like that. like you were made to hold things but right now you can’t, right now there’s no way to even open up to anything because the entrance seems to have folded up on itself.

you must think i’m crazy for writing about pockets on a sunday evening but writing is the only way for me.

any other pockets around?

torn pockets? where the seams have come apart, the fabric has worn out and everything just seeps through unplanned, you don’t even notice, you just forget things, you lose them after thinking you held them dear, your heart falls flat on the floor and it’s too late before you notice. your memories paint your path but you don’t have it in you to pick them up, the torn pocket scares me even more.

there’s a special type of pocket, the one that is drawn onto fabric. put there to deceive you into thinking it could hold but you don’t notice till you try to put your money in and it doesn’t go. designed to make you feel you could carry, but made not to carry but to observe. it just watches and watches, from the chest , the thighs or the back, carrying things we never even put in it.

i’m really scared of pockets, what if my phone doesn’t fit and it falls out while i walk? what if my happy memories fall out of me and i don’t notice? what if i need a bag to carry everything i need to carry and i just keep forcing it into myself without knowing?

sigh.

i honestly wish i could stop it.

you wish it’d stop but it doesn’t. it keeps you second guessing every single decision, questioning your worth and capabilities while everyone else sees someone who does really well while you don’t even know how such a horrible person is doing anything at all.

is that really overthinking? you ask

well, let’s say it is.

you’re overthinking something and it looks like the fear of forgetting, you know what it is to be forgotten, you’ve experienced it first hand so you wouldn’t want to do that to someone. every morning you wake up and sort through your memories, making sure the parts that warm your heart are still there, the ones aboit people that care still glitter.

heart…

pieces, it feels like it’s in pieces sometimes, shards which somehow do not draw blood, instead they draw you, clear as day in the back of the television i call a mind.

you’re overthinking something and it tastes like failure, your fear for it is so thick it blocks signals. it’s explainable and understandable but why? you don’t want it, you don’t want to not try because you are afraid of failing. you want to be able to express yourself like you should, not feel like you got stabbed just by thinking of a public speaking or any form of speaking at all.

you know how to speak sometimes and yes they listen, they wring it out of you, but why do you keep them worrying? why can’t you just be fine? isn’t it—

you’re overthinking something and it smells like her perfume, you have it registered to a separate radio station and you play it over and over like it doesn’t hurt. they said it’s fine, kudi said it’ll stop but it seems to be getting worse. she said things get better, she said you should talk and she’s glad you’re just minutes away. yet you fear… fear that somewhere along the line you did this, you caused all of this an nobody can save you.

overthinking something, but apparently you just started doing it. this is only the beginning and it will surely get more demanding.

you think and think and think till your head feels like its going to explode.

overthinking something and it just might be your low self esteem, you wonder when and why you started to believe you were ugly and useless and stupid and no matter how much someone compliments you, you don’t believe it. you wish you could take them but it’s always doubted.

you don’t believe in your relationships too, sometimes you back yourself into a dark corner and turn off the radio so the love can’t reach you, you know they love you of course, but you feel undeserving.

overthinking is a sport and you just might be a gold medalist. you run circles around yourself in your own mind and corner yourself into situations that have 0.1 percent of ever occurring. doesn’t matter to you because anything can happen when you’re useless enough to think you’re useless.

overthinking something and it’s tears, why won’t they come when your heart aches so much? they need to come through… just this once.

overthinking something and it just might be because of the tension between you and what you’re capable of…

what can you even do?

hide, avoid, pretend, run and sometimes seek.

it doesn’t seem to be outside this

you’re…

…

i see the wind in the grass and i want to live
the way the blades move together
not alone
not in pairs
all at once
the blades keep to themselves
but move with each other
sharpening each other
intertwining
each blade has rubbed against another
nothing grows alone

…

i see the wind in the grass and i want to live
in the sun it stands
at night it stands
it sways with the wind
but never really strays from the ground

the insects cling to the blades
to stay safe
to stay grounded
and stick together
do i have insects on me?

…

i see the wind in the grass and i want to live
the animals come to feed off us
sometimes they bite
sometimes they uproot
but blades will be blades
we shouldn’t feel pain but we do
are they supposed to do that?

…

i see the wind in the grass
and i don’t know but
i want to live
see where the wind pushes me
how i rub against other blades
how sharp i can get

…

i see the wind in the grass

and then…

…

it rained

…

a little too heavy for my liking
the water reigns over the blades
taking charge of the sway
commanding our old friend the wind
taking the only thing that gave us rhythm

the insects are washed away
and the blades are turned in ways they shouldn’t
yes it can’t rain forever
the rain doesn’t know that though
and while it does
it’s all i can think about
how scary water can be

…

i see the wind in the grass and i want to live
don’t know how long
don’t even know how
don’t know how long the blades can keep me on their side
don’t know if they still know how to sway the right way
how to move with that rhythm they once did
the one that caught my eye

…

i see the wind in the grass and i want to live
the blades whisper something and i can’t ignore

before

at the beginning it’s like there was a gap
a chasm sitting somewhere inside of me
which i never remember letting you into
i still don’t know how you made your way there

…

before you

the days were really bleak but now i look forward to texts and calls
and to someone calling my name
even if it’s just for something like tie my shoe
or hold my bag
or take my umbrella
it’s better than walking around alone

…

before you

i didn’t used to shiver at the mention of a certain word
i was able to walk around without worrying i’d run into you and have nothing to say
without thinking i will probably see you

“you think so highly of them”

it’s because they did and still do the same for me
checking if i’m fine
making sure i really am
and checking again if i am fine

…

before you

the rainbows had no color and the clouds in my heart were dark
but since you walked in
it’s been the opposite
my heart must be exercising because it races everytime the topic is you or just relates to you
not entirely about you, it’s about them too but yeah some of it

because you guys chased away the dark clouds
and made sure i wasn’t lonely
or empty all the time

…

before you

i could count the number of times i’d thought about speaking to someone
but then i started using the time i spent counting to think about you even more

…

before you guys

i don’t know what i was even doing
cause we do everything together,
how did i do it before?

…

with you

with you guys

everyday is like the best day
it’s like those rainbows have more than colors
like there’s laughter sprinkled on them
maybe because we are always laughing
and bringing each other to happy tears
it’s like the rain clouds just parted and
maybe it’s because i get to see you guys even easier now
few steps and we’re together again

…

with you

was there ever a with you?
i don’t think there was
we could say so but
it was fun for me though
i don’t know what to believe out of the things you told me
i don’t know what is real or not
i don’t know if it was ever alright or i did too much
i overstepped didn’t i?

…

with you

that time
it was really good having your support
texts
your laughter
and every other thing in between
the way you call me (redacted) still loops in my head

…

with you guys

it’s like we’re pillars holding each other together
i don’t know about you but i’ll probably not have made it this far without
i might have collapsed
i don’t have much faith in myself and yes you guys scold me for this but let it slide this once

…

after you

i can’t even say if there’s an after you
because i’m not sure there was a with you
because you’re still here
so i don’t know honestly
but after that
it’s been hard

not texting
not thinking
ignoring
avoiding
pretending it’s been fine

…

after you guys

i don’t want an after you guys
i want a forever if possible
i can’t lose you guys
no matter what
you showed me what real friendship looks like
so i want to keep it

…

you, you, you

i don’t know if it’ll stop
if i can even stop
you’re at my doorstep again
and i will definitely open the door
i wonder what i’ll lose this time
there’s not much left of my heart and mind

…

i breathe about you

it’s like your name covers my lungs
every conversation
i find a way to bring you guys up
because i just can’t not talk about you
like right now

your smell still stays around me when i sniff
how can i forget something i got used to?

it’s like…

…

i eat about you

so i don’t forget what you like
the allergies
and things you still avoid
as if i memorized your body without even meaning to

…

i speak about you

absorbing your vocabulary so fast
i now sound like you
and i didn’t even notice
how can i even write this?

…

i sleep about you

dream of us two laughing
nothing serious
just laughter
and you

…

i wake about you

with things to say
already thinking of you
reaching for my phone
then i remember

…

i need to stop

…

that’s where you guys come in

drowning me in the other kind so i don’t miss this kind as much
it’s something i never knew i needed
you say to stop

…

i can’t stop, i want to

…

but for now it’s always to you, for you, about you and you guys, forever or till i can stop myself from pouring my heart into a cursor.

if i ever become an option

please don’t pick me

i don’t think you’d like that

i’m used to being kept aside anyways

used to being hung on the wall and ignored

catching dust and nesting spiders

if i ever become an object in an antique shop

please don’t pick me

i’d probably be an old rickety rocking chair that has a lost leg

loose screws and makes a squeaky noise when it’s sat on

old and useless

obsolete or maybe hoping to be

if i ever become an option

please don’t pick me

why did we have to get this far for you to consider picking me when i didn’t even think twice when they asked?

so now i’m an option

and then you want me

because compared to the other options right now it has to be me

what happens when you find better options?

please don’t pick me

don’t string me along

don’t. don’t. don’t.

if i ever make it on a poster

it’ll be one of those ones

where they use one product to make another look good

don’t pick me

i can’t take it

why didn’t you do it earlier?

why are we standing across each other and i’m side by side with other options?

if i ever become an option

please leave me to rot on the display

bury me with nothing and just toss me aside.

ii

not yet corpses

but sometimes i…

never mind

it might be too dark

so let’s not go there

not yet corpses

yet we rot

heart blackened

soul non existent in the things we do

the stench is choking

and i think some of it got into my eyes

not yet corpses

yet we rot

the maggots can come now

they’ll bite into my chest and all the love i couldn’t give will suffocate them

then…

they’ll bite my stomach and be welcomed by butterflies

butterflies in (redacted) color

just the right number to spell your name and every other name i gave you

they won’t be able to take it

then they burrow into my eyes and they see

see everything i ever wanted to see

everything i made myself see

till they get to my mind

and the thoughts i kept locked up burst out

not yet corpses

maybe zombies?

feels like blood has pooled at the sides of my belly

and it’s probably where the smell is coming from

do you smell it too?

or is it just me?

not yet corpses

just a bit of a stench no?

waiting for complete degradation

and wishing i was a good person at least

iii

i don’t know if i’m a good person

now that we’re here close to what i thought was farther away

leg kicking and only just within reach of the bucket

i wonder

i don’t know if i’m a good person

because i never got to say gooodbye

i never got to hug everyone i loved one last time

i couldn’t bare to see their faces as i rotted and rotted gradually

not yet a corpse but really close now

i swallowed so much of what i should have said

i was always second guessing

wishing someone else would say it

sometimes they did

they fought for me

they helped me

but i don’t know if i’m a good person

if it’s right to withhold things because my lips won’t part

if it’s normal to right about death when you’re perfectly fine

if it’s normal to give into your emotions because they almost took you out

do good people do all that?

i really don’t know if i’m one of them

my smile is awkward and i don’t really know how to help people

my hands are shaky and i usually need the help

they’re calloused now and i don’t even think i’ve done enough

if i ever become an option

you should look the other way

because i probably already looked at you before you finally looked this way

it’s too late now

i may not yet be a corpse but my eyes are rotting

i don’t want to look at you

…

is that what good people do?

it knows where, it definitely does but i wish it could tell me how, so i could stop worrying and keep my heart where it’s supposed to be and not in the back of my mouth.

something in me knows where i’m going, but i wish the rest of me did too, so my legs can tell me where we need to be before we need to be there, so my arms can do what needs to be done right before it should be done, or so my mind would stop racing around things i cannot and will not be able to fix even if i give every once of myself… alas that’s not possible, so i worry.

i worry i’m not enough, but the doctor told me i’m doing great today, i can check blood pressure even with shitty equipment and count pulse and count respiratory rate and use the pulse oximeter and i can at least pull of clerking but my chest believes something else , it fears theres nothing i can do right so it makes my hand shake around the stethoscope and my voice to crack when i speak.

it’s so loud it’s like i’m the only one not watching football here, my mum asked me why and i don’t know why she wants me to care about it all of a sudden when we never really watched it at home.

i worry that my effort will not show like last time, yes it may show in practice, may show in the things i can say at given times and the words i can preach but what about on paper? what about the scores? why do they almost always come back looking like they hit the chopping block before being thrown back at me? i really don’t want that anymore, supposed to start assessments for this level by end of the month and i still feel like i don’t know what i’m doing, i sleep like three hours at night not because i’m doing anything i try but it rarely works out, so i stay awake trying and trying until i sleep off and then my alarm gets me up 5-ish, i go pray, fetch water, take a bath, eat if i can and go to class from 8-10am, from there i go to the wards, mostly the wards, i help when i can, listen and ask and answer questions if possible, come back whenever and try to feed then i sleep— today was actually the first time i slept after coming back, then i repeat the night again like i’m about to right now and you mean this is just the intro?

i fear that i may never believe in myself as fully as i did… did i even ever? i’ve always doubted everything about myself for as far as i can remember especially concerning my abilities, “i’ve done this before so i should be able to do it again”, really? i tell myself that and feign the confidence when called upon but i’m really scared, is that how it should go? does everyone have it all figured out and i don’t? are they all pretending not to have it together and i really do not have it together? it’s just the intro, you’re not meant to know all of it and it still scares me, what if i still don’t know when i am supposed to know? i’m supposed to be “believing in myself” from now on because my friends threatened to kill me, they think i’m too good for the way i doubt, but what if it’s the doubt that has pushed me this far? what if i have only been able to jump over every hurdle because i doubt myself and rethink every single thing and go back and repeat my prep before trying? but then i only just miss the hurdle, by about a few centimeters— i wish it could be better.

what even am i without doubt?

something in me knows where i’m going and i don’t think the rest of me even wants to know. it’s like this video i watched about two guys, one was told how he’ll die and one was told when he’ll die. one will spend the rest of his days being paranoid, worrying that this or something as small as that will do him in while the other will spend his days doing things that have good consequences maybe, good or bad who knows? but he knows when he will kick the bucket and escape them. my point is, knowing feels heavy. whether you know how you die or when you die, you will be scared either way like what if i don’t do everything i need and want to before then? what if this car just goes off the road and crushes me? in my case? what if it’s never enough? what if i keep rethinking my steps and end up stepping with the wrong foot either way? what if i am walking backwards instead of forwards?

something in me knows where i’m going but i just can’t help being a pessimist. what if where i’m supposed to go is a dark cave where fluid drips from the roof and there’s bat poop as well and sunlight seeps from a crack somewhere, all i have to know that it’s daylight, i don’t know if i’m underground or not, i don’t even know if i’m still on earth and all i can do is just sit chained to the floor.

wait— too much.

i’ve been accused of pulling out when i cut too deep but it hurts so why wouldn’t i?

…

i just can’t help but thinking of the worst case possible and impossible before thinking of the best that’s if i do think about it all, i can’t help it to be honest, it’s a part of me.

i fear writing. that’s why i’ve been away from my notes app, it always put things i want to avoid in perspective, everytime i start typing it’s like i’m stabbing myself in the chest and watching the blood ooze out. it’s scary and it took a lot for me to finally do after a while.

i fear i may have relapsed, that’s the word right? because it’s not drugs but yearning, somehow i’ve stopped myself from texting or reaching out in every way, sometimes i still hover around the thought, but it would make me look like a fool and my friends would probably slap me across the face.

i think i relapsed same time as my friend, and no it’s still not drugs, it’s something stronger, something that makes you stupid without smoke or snuffs or sips, maybe you may have red eyes from crying though. it’s crazy cause why are we having thoughts about people we shouldn’t and she told me right as i was contemplating telling her about mine? i didn’t tell her though.

advise coming from me is crazy sha. i’d say i told her what i wanted to hear but our cases are actually not too similar but they are in a way.

anyways scratch snuffs, or sniffs or whatever, because a smell almost drove me mad last week. how do i remember what you smell like when it’s been over four years? sometimes i wish i couldn’t smell like my mum, at least i wouldn’t remember all this. smells are too strong, i just caught a whiff and i was sniffing around like a dog till i caught myself of course.

it’s like i relapsed on two different drugs that kept me going at different points in my life and i don’t think i can even explain how it happened but trust me it is currently happening.

…

something in me knows where i’m going and maybe that’s why i can’t seem to stop, maybe it’s why the i still walk this path even though my feet are bleeding.

it’s crazy because i never seem to see a lot of things through, i have incomplete hobbies, i have abandoned projects, put off outings, avoided thoughts and a bunch of other things i really could and should do but i don’t, but it’s the one thing that is trying to suck the life out of me i keep doing.

probably because i’m in too deep, or my parents can’t waste supplies on me, either way i can’t stop.

something in me knows where i’m going and i don’t know if i’ll last long enough to make it there, my legs are getting tired and so are my arms but i will at least finish writing this. it knows where i’m going and i want to know it too, but i…

i don’t know what this is, or why i trust it so much when i don’t even trust myself… but something in me knows where i’m going and i might just follow behind

i should…

come come, sit… if you want.

i saw this tweet i think, it said the shape of our brains is really similar to someone curled up on the floor, i could picture it and it was something i’d thought of before. a few scrolls later and i saw a painting of exactly what i pictured.

it looked like a tiny human—a tiny version of ourselves folding into itself, to protect itself and us or it could be out of fear or pain depending on the situation.

it could be just protection, tucking the harmful memories and thoughts deep within itself as it folds and folds. or blocking them out keeping them from reaching inside.

or fear. it helps everywhere feel connected, squeezing your eyes tight and hugging your knees to your chest, it just feels relieving. its like you become one with yourself and blood and every other thing now flows in a circle. it’s my favorite position, folded up like squidward in that one episode.

or out of pain. crying feels easier when i’m like that i don’t know how to explain it. it’s just better, you feel smaller and everything just feels… together. like i’m part of myself again. somehow it is really similar to the way we were in our mothers womb, legs folded, back curled and arms to the chest.

i find that observation poetic? i think.

cause i’ve always seen my mind or brain as a smaller version of me, not as an organ but a little me, if he was able to fit inside my head. we talk to each other and we deliberate but sometimes i feel sad for him, having to face all this together with me, trapped in my head and unable to stretch.

he is curled up there, feeling everything with me and still protects me. i don’t remember a lot because he doesn’t want me to, because it might be harmful so he tucked it away for me to somewhere only he can reach, while he remembers it all.

they say at the beginning the brain is a straight tube that then swells and elongates and folds up on itself. while we’re still curled up in our moms for awhile it’s straight, then it curls up getting ready for us to straighten out and as we grow, it grows too, earning elevations and depressions, crevices to tuck things away, to keep things from us or …for us.

he takes care of everything, emotions, reactions, everything and sometimes he doesn’t tell me why we behave a certain way or why we do something the way we did. i wish he could tell me the parts of my life i can’t remember, i wish he’d whisper to me the reason i need a coping mechanism when i don’t even know what’s wrong with me, i sleep too much and school resumes soon i hope he knows that. i wish he could explain why happiness feels sad, why it feels undeserved, along side love and why sadness feels like home, how long does he think we can take this?

he does, he knows everything and i do not. curled up inside of my head as i’m currently curled up on my bed, two circles making one person.

sometimes just like me he can’t take it too, so he puts his hands over his ears and silently prays and begs for it to stop, and all i can do is shiver out here, pretend my mind isn’t unraveling.

…

he’s connected, there’s a thread that descends from the brain down our back and sends smaller threads to every part of the body, so he can control it all, can keep everything in check, making sure i know what to do.

but sometimes i do and he doesn’t, sometimes he does and i don’t so we avoid each other, the two circles should not be completely separated, there should be an intersection somewhere.

he holds on to a lot, crouches over them and pulls them to his chest, so i can remember my siblings’ smiles, my parents’ care, my friends’ laughter, the love i’ve received, even though some parts are missing— hidden. he turned his back on a lot, avoided wounds as best as he can but you can’t hide forever, they still roll in and i feel the stab in my mind, his shriek is deafening but somehow i can’t reach him, can’t pull him in for a hug.

we’re scared, together this time, scared of what tomorrow holds, so curling up is justified, scared of what we pretend not to remember, not to feel.

circles are complete but even with two i don’t feel that way, it’s like i’m forcing the shape just so i can stay together.

like not the good kind, the kind that sits for too long and barely has the ingredients in accurate proportions. where the flour is less or too much, the eggs are incomplete, some shells are broken in, sugar is brown instead of white or white instead of brown, butter is expired and the milk is chunky. the kind of cake batter that probably can’t be salvaged, it’s just there… staring at you.

sometimes you don’t even know what got into the batter because you don’t know how to put a lid on it, can’t say no, sometimes flies fall in, people pour in, you give out, you never take back and you pour from people’s into yours.

leaving you with a batter having both brown sugar and white sugar, mixed colors and feelings. you end up not knowing what to do or feel because just like your batter you’re confused. there’s a hint of happiness but sadness got whisked in earlier too, you feel lighter but butter just fell in, it’s bitter but there’s sugar somewhere in there, you know there is.

and it hurts, whisking and mixing something you know won’t come out right, but what can you do?

sometimes i feel like cake batter, i honestly don’t know which ingredients are mine anymore and i really want out. what kind of metaphor even is this? i feel jumbled up and something else i can’t quite name because i don’t know what to feel. my cake batter is not mine alone, i take samples from the people i care about and whisk it into mine, so it doesn’t feel good when they get hurt, it aches and i feel it somewhere in my chest, my mood is ruined and something just never feels right. the batter stares at me and blames me but i don’t know how to stop.

it’s confusing, cause there’s so many feelings and ingredients and people in there, and the batter just stares, it doesn’t change even in the oven. just there, pulsating. batter should turn to cake but this one shows no sign of it, i keep taking it out to add things inside and i think my oven is wrecked due to the opening and closing.

sometimes it feels like cake batter, with many incompatible flavors and did i just taste yam? there’s something wrong with this batter and i know it, but i just have to keep living and whisking and mixing because i have no idea how to separate already mixed ingredients, pouring the batter away is not an option either.

i built this. me. brick by brick. knowingly or not so i have to see it through, or at least try.

sometimes it’s like cake batter, i don’t know how to save it. i’m not a high mage, i don’t have some spell to just fix things or separate the ingredients and start all over, i have to sit with it.

…and it just spilled, cake batter i guess. is cake batter supposed to be boiling over? i’m tired guys.

but then i blink and it’s not there

like someone changed the channels while i was still watching

i don’t remember

i can’t

really?

i have a lot to say

but i don’t remember most of it

it’s what i believe

what i’d like to

because i’d rather that than admit i’m running away from it

which i’m definitely not

i have a lot to say

i swear

it’s just that it doesn’t come the way i want it to

the words don’t line up correctly

and my thoughts are in zigzags

i have a lot to write

but when i open my notes app i’m hit with nothing

a blinking yellow line stares at me

and all i end up doing is staring back

i turn on my laptop—

scratch that

because i can’t even use it that much anymore

i have so much to say it hurts my head

they keep pounding and pounding nonstop and i can’t seem to find a way to let them out

the doctor said i should cut my screen time

but even if he didn’t, my eyes hurt too much to stare.

i have a lot to say

some of which i need to hear myself say to believe it’s true

i am distracting myself

i am the biggest distraction i could ever have

my screen looks farther than it really is right now but i will see this through

i did not

i slept off

well

i am the biggest distraction i could ever have

i don’t do things i said i would

and i entertain every little thought

it’s like i’ve become my own yes-man

“check your phone real quick”

“sleep more”

i fear i may yes myself into a corner that only no can solve

the problem is not being able to say no

it’s when,

you want to buy something but you don’t have money so it’s definitely a no

you want to sleep, but there’s work to do

but your bed is right there

can you stop yourself?

i have a lot to say

a lot i’ve realized lately

i can’t speak up

like raise my voice

i do not have loud voice

so it’s like there’s someone strangling me if i even try to raise it

it feels strained

i cannot call out to people from far and expect them to hear me

or maybe i’m limiting it on purpose

i don’t know honestly

i still catch myself stammering

it just suddenly started one day

so maybe that’s why i’m still super conscious of my voice.

i realized my hands don’t shake as much anymore

at least i don’t notice them do it like before

but we’ll see

i have a lot to say and i don’t know how to put it

my imagination is not what it used to be

forgive me

i haven’t written fiction in so long

it feels like it’s calling out to me from inside a bottomless pit and i can’t seem to respond

feels like i’ve been shut out.

but in a way it seems like i’m more aware

that doesn’t change anything

i can identify things doesn’t mean i can fix them

i can write plenty words about my feelings now but it doesn’t fully change them

i have a lot to say

but it’s becoming repetitive, isn’t it?

i write more when i’m not okay

not addressing the problem

well maybe in my journal

but even there

i will most likely still circle the problem

dance around it

drag chalk round it

but never touch it

never address it

because it’s scary

i just write something related but also not related

like this one

i’ve had a migraine for almost a week now and it feels like my head will explode

so i decided to let things out.

feelings are complicated

it’s confusing

and just leaves me wanting to burst into flames or something

because there’s no reason i should be contemplating texting someone

i have a lot to say

i think

although i can’t remember much right now

oh

yes

nothing is interesting anymore

everything tastes bland

like rice without salt

movies just play to keep me busy

i can’t even read books much anymore

music hurts my head right now

what else is there?

hobbies?

hobbies cost money right now

and its exhausting

so i distract myself

this time not the bad kind

the one that lets me remain sane while knowing there are kids in the bush somewhere

which i can do nothing about

the kind that lets me believe nigeria is a real place and that this is not some sort of punishment for past lives

one that allows me to look around and see that things are wrong but act like they’re fine.

sigh

i have a lot to say

i think i miss school

it kept me busy

kept me occupied

but i can’t rely on it forever

after school

it’ll be work

do i just keep filling myself with different purposes to avoid things?

i have a lot to say

so i’m emptying my pockets but turns out it’s really a lot

so i’ll run

for now

i’m done

i have a lot to say,

but if i could say them properly we wouldn’t be here, would we?

“somewhere over the rainbow.”

and i promised myself i’d write a poem,

so this may be a little rough around the edges.

---

somewhere over the rainbow,

not at the end though.

they say leprechauns put you in pots there,

turn you to gold,

so nobody ever gets the treasure.

i don’t want to be another man’s gold.

i’m talking about over.

wayyy over.

where the bluebirds die.

wait, wrong wording...

somewhere a little bit too... high?

---

somewhere over the rainbow,

where the colors are at their peak,

painting your eyes.

where the clouds look like cotton candy,

and breathing is optional.

where the stars are closer,

and gravity is a teensy bit weaker.

---

somewhere over the rainbow,

where i don’t risk going mad if i don’t write this.

where the clouds are real clouds and not smoke clouds.

where there’s no one else but me.

where the horrors would come to wither out.

where the darkness is soothing.

where hope is right around the corner,

but so is that other thing...

right around the corner.

where the darkness begins to bear its teeth.

---

somewhere over the rainbow,

where pixie dust is in the air,

all around.

and fairies come to lay their heads.

it’s just somewhere the dreams stay at bay.

somewhere to ignore the noise of the world below,

and just be you for as long as you can.

where reindeer fly above,

and santa waves hello.

from where the dreamworks kid catches fish...

peter pan, i think.

forgive me,

i get too excited when it comes to magic and fairytales.

---

so somewhere over the rainbow?

my starting line.

the sky can’t be the limit.

i’m past that now.

leapt through the sky,

straight to the top of the rainbow...

and beyond.

do planes even go that high?

or is this just where some things can’t survive?

where bluebirds come to die.

where my dreams take flight.

somewhere i could close my eyes

and think of life.

or where i just might die.

wait, wait...

not that.

at least not yet.

---

somewhere over the rainbow,

where the sun is still the sun,

and the moon is still the moon,

but i’m closer now.

somewhere i don’t need to worry about money.

somewhere i can’t think about her.

i won’t.

where they switched out the y for an l,

so i can do more learning than something else.

something gut-stabbing,

and we don’t have room for that now, do we?

---

somewhere over the rainbow,

or at least over the clouds.

where the air begins to thin out,

and my worries begin to mellow down.

where my heart is pounding faster than i can comprehend.

just the thought of being with the stars is exhilarating.

tears gather in my eyes

at the thought of not seeing a flower again.

but there’s fairies,

and flying fish,

and reindeer,

and sometimes birds come to die here.

---

somewhere over the rainbow,

where the red is sparkling,

and the blue is just right.

where orange looks like the sunset,

and green is just green.

where the trees look like blobs on the floor,

and buildings look like scribbles and blocks.

where everything is meaningless,

yet still holds something.

here, everything is weightless,

but still holds water.

---

and then it took a turn.

the darkness decided to bear its teeth.

i fear i’ve veered too far above the rainbow.

not that i wasn’t trying.

i was just seeing how long i could avoid it.

restrain myself.

so i flap my wings,

but there’s no air this high.

i look around,

and it’s just empty.

i look down,

and i say,

i can’t turn back now.

i look up,

and i see everything i’ve ever dreamed of.

it’s more than i imagined it could be.

---

where bluebirds come to die.

where blue birds come to die.

but i’m not blue,

and i don’t think i can pass for a bird.

but i’d sure like to join them.

---

somewhere above the rainbow,

way higher than you can imagine.

where the oceans still sparkle.

where helium takes you.

where oxygen is limited.

...

where the rainbow isn’t pretty anymore.

every time i hear this phrase it triggers a certain feeling in me. it always comes off really sharp, like something that cuts deep enough to draw blood. emotions i can’t even name rush out, maybe fear, maybe sadness. but i can’t quite put my finger on it. i don’t know why those three words hurt me so much.

“i used to…” and then they show you a video of when they were younger, dancing, and it’s one of the most graceful things you’ve ever seen. you catch a glimpse of them smiling at the video too from the corner of your eyes so you don’t even ask why, because it’ll seem unfair. why dig up parts of them you know nothing about?

“i used to… sing” but then you look at them and remember you clowned them for belting a song wrongly when you guys were just fooling around few weeks ago. you remember they actually have a good voice so you ask why and they tell you it didn’t look like it would be useful or my parents told me to focus on better things. the same old story, it’s exhausting.

“i used to… draw” you once saw them sketch something in the corner of their book, spider-man’s face and his body barely in view making his signature pose. it looked like it came easily to them, but they can’t anymore… life got serious and they had to focus on better things.

“i used to…” and it’s a hobby that kept them sane. i used to read but it doesn’t just work anymore. i used to draw but my hands shiver at the thought of sketching. i used to dance but society taught me shame and shyness not too long ago. i used to sing but i haven’t liked my voice much since it got deeper. i used to write stories but they told me it was no good. i used to paint but… i used to laugh louder but… i used to. i used to. it’s really annoying.

the way it rolls off your tongue like it’s supposed to be an excuse, but it’s not. it’s more like an obituary, an admission that somewhere along the line you abandoned a part of yourself. it doesn’t replace i’m learning again, it doesn’t replace i can still do abit, i used to is a whole different story.

it’s like letting go of parts of you you’ve always wanted, to hold on to parts of you you need to “make” it in life. leaving the parts that always came naturally to pick up parts that became a necessity. maybe that’s why i prefer i’m learning again, it’s like having one foot wedging the door open, waiting for the other foot so you can walk back in again.

we have so many sad adults because of this. responsibilities overshadow the fact that we still need to live, all everyone does these days is stare at screens and work.

“i used to…” there’s so many things people used to do which they stopped, which they dropped because our parents thought it won’t be useful or it couldn’t get them anywhere, sure i get that but not everything has to make you money. i also think where we live makes it worse, you can’t even have fun anymore, everything is being converted into a means of survival, making joy look irresponsible. hobbies are meant to bring joy and relief not two hundred and fifteen whatsapp messages from people who want a painting and a headache because you can’t do all that and manage your full time job. besides you can’t expect someone who’s running a job and three side hustles to have a hobby. “side hustle”, everyone calls it now, but most were once hobbies, the ones that bake, make beads and even some tailors. the man that used to play football but stopped because life got too serious, the woman who used to crochet but materials got expensive, everyone has a little kid inside of them waiting for a chance to complete the sentence “i used to…”

and sometimes it’s not even about hobbies, the version that draws blood the most is about people.

like hearing “i used to know you”, not the kind of knowing where they mean just meeting and introducing yourself, the kind where they probably knew all your favorites and the number of birthmarks on your face. the kind where you could speak to each other with just your eyes… but apparently it’s not the same, it’s all in the past, you changed, they changed, or not. either way, something changed and now you’re both speaking in the past tense. they don’t know the habits you’ve picked up over the years, and the version of you they still remember is one you’ve long outgrown. what’s forgotten by you is preserved by them, and what’s familiar to you is foreign to them.

or hearing i used to see you but it’s not entirely physical, maybe it is, you may have moved houses. but it could also not be, it could just be that they can’t understand you as well as they did anymore, you left them behind. other times it could be i used to like you, but everyone can’t like us so it’s not like we can change that, but coming from someone important might hurt cause you start to think of reasons why.

i used to. i used to. i used to. it’s weight alone is enough to crush me, maybe that’s why those three words hurt so much. they sound so ordinary, but they carry abandoned passions, forgotten versions of ourselves and people we can never know in quite the same way again.

sometimes “i used to” is growth.

sometimes it’s healing.

sometimes it’s just humanity

but sometimes…

sometimes it’s grief pretending to be grammar.