Rise and Rise and Rise Again.

It's been a while.
My freshman year of college has passed; the summer has ended; my sophomore year is close to halfway over.

Here are some of the things that have happened:

I was chosen to be the model for a two photoshoot series. One was about androgyny; the other was a nude photoshoot focusing on body image.

I got the Nexplanon birth control implant in January. Veeeery nice.

I finished the school year with a 3.7 GPA and was nominated by my writing teacher for the biggest writing scholarship in the school; I won a scholarship to attend the Laughing Heart Literary Festival & Writing Conference, which was a three-day event over the summer in Hot Springs, NC. There were a lot of big authors and poets from the Appalachian area. I was chosen to perform a poem I'd written at the closing event on the last day. It was wonderful!

When I was in Savannah over spring break, I got a dotwork band tattoo around my upper arm.

I worked over the summer at Southern Pine & RK Construction, a reclaimed antique lumber and custom design/construction place.

I was mostly in the metal shop using the drill press, angle grinder, band saw, metal grinding wheel, die grinder, welder, wire brush wheel, etc. Pretty easy to take off a finger with most of those. It's also pretty weird to watch hot sparks shower your boots and jeans and gloves and bare arms.

Aside from the metal shop, I was also straining & sanding wood, pulling nails, helping out with the building & installation of pieces in the new Perry Lane Hotel downtown, putting together a work studio, and doing most of the detailing for the antique motorcycle we'd refurbished for a client.

Jake came to visit for a week over the summer, which was wonderful. (He was here for Summer Solstice!) Went to the beach, to feed alligators, to the Wildlife Sanctuary, etc.

We've been together for around a year and two months now; our one year anniversary was fantastic - we went to a nice restaurant and got ice cream and just walked around as the sun set and gave each other their present. (and then fantastic sex).

It's such a wonderful experience to have someone you love who doesn't do things like play mind games, or hack your snapchat account when they accidentally send a message to you instead of the other person they were talking to about you, or starting to date someone else while still in a relationship with you, or ask your friend how you've been doing...two years after you've broken up. So mature.

It's nice to know that Jake don't expect me to be perfect and automatically agree with him - which we certainly don't. But if one of us has a problem or concern, open communication/being honest is important to both of us (especially since we half live together).

I've been taking kickboxing for a while now; one of my proudest moments was when my instructor warned me that hitting anyone with my uppercut would probably break their jaw.

I've also been spending several hours at a time in the little river in the Botanical Gardens looking for river glass, bits of pottery, and interesting rocks. I've had to start being very picky about what I take back with me, as I'm running out of room for it (I have three big jars full, plus several old prescription bottles full of the smallest pieces. SO beautiful in the sunlight!).

Bambi came to visit over fall break! We went shopping, ate pancakes, watched a lot of Total Drama Island, and just got to spend time together - something that I miss being able to do whenever we want.

I was a student volunteer for the Tibetan Monks' sand mandala while they were on campus, and having the last shift of the day, I was the one to follow the special steps for sweeping together and collecting the huge (incredible) mandala created by the students.

My suitemates are nice enough; we're able to keep things clean and well-stocked. It's pretty hilarious when your suitemate tells you about some weird guy they met on Tindr and had been talking for a while before he does a total 180 and says that his two year relationship just became exclusive - and then they show you a picture to see if you know him. Absolutely dying laughing together was a good way to get to know each other! [At least until you find out that your suitemate went on to become really good friends anyways - while also actively choosing to hide it from you so as to spare your feelings [though such a thing is not anyone else's decision to make], until you find out via hearing them loudly talking on the phone until you are shaking too badly to write and end up having a panic attack when you find out that said suitemate talks about you with said old toxic relationship that fucked you up for a long time (and clearly seeing that toxic actions from said person are still the same even after all this time) and you suddenly find yourself actually frightened].

Life continues to happen. The earth turns and time moves forward, whether we want it to or not. We're falling through space, clinging to the skin of this tiny world. We rise and rise and rise again. The best we can do is open our eyes and hold on to each other until the end of the line.

Soothe what you can, fight what you can't; if I can't move heaven, I will raise hell.

You, a lover?

Maybe. It was something tender,

but tender like a bruise.

Every look and

touch

that you threw my way

made me want to give you everything.

For a little while,

my heart beat

in the syllables

of your name; but

the heart is always

the last one

to leave the lost cause.

We define ourselves by the ways in which we orbit around others.

At the time, I hoped that

your fingers fit with mine

like a key in a lock instead of

two bullets in the chamber of a gun.

And the sad thing was that

there were several times when I should not have forgiven you

so easily, should have just walked away. But in those days,

you could have slit my throat and with my last

gasping

breath,

I’d apologize for bleeding on your shirt.

How could I have loved you so much,

I ask myself later,

since it always seemed like

you were expecting not me,

but ⅚ths of a mirror image of yourself.

I guess that’s why

I convinced myself

that you were bettering me,

when all you were doing

was assuming yourself right before anything else;

even when you were laying in bed

with a girl that you no longer

wanted to kiss,

(yet you’d still wear

the heat of her body)

and let her doubt herself

until all her thoughts became

“Maybe this time, maybe next time, maybe, maybe, maybe…”

Back then, I’d take the poison that needs sucking out;

any excuse to get

your lips on me.

So you’d kiss me once, hard,

and call it our bloodletting.

My most profound wish came true and was invalidated in the same breath. (The truth).

But I guess it’s hard to let go, even if what you’re holding

is full of thorns.

Maybe especially then.

For a while, your name was

a bone splinter inside my mouth. 

Forgive my perplexity at the time,

as I no longer knew what to think after you told me

that we should stop seeing each other

            (not once, but three times);

“For our own good.

“Because a relationship between North Carolina and Savannah is too

far,

and too hard for both of us.”

I believed you when you assured me that we were still friends, still just as

close.

I hadn’t assumed that “just friends” still meant

that you could and would fuck me whenever we saw

each other, still ask for those pictures taken in

a darkened bedroom,

still write me those words that sometimes bordered on frightening when I’d look back, after the moments of fervor.

You’re delicate. But I’m not afraid to break you.

I won’t ask what you want anymore, you understand that?

It won’t be cute and it won’t be sweet.

Write it out. You have to beg.

I’d pull your fingers away if I was there

So I could force my cock inside you.

Later on, it was how you told me that

you still wanted me like I wanted you, if only it weren’t for

the distance,

distance,

distance…

Later on, it was how you used Them

always as your excuse, (as though They were

a helpless soul and your duty to shelter).

(As long as I’m reminding myself of things,

I’m a good person,

worthy of love, of respect-

both from myself and others).

You told me not to mourn

a love

that I hadn’t even known was dead.

You told me to move on

after you had peeled yourself away so slowly,

as though you were wearily plucking my eyelashes,

one

            by

                        one.

You only left me a bewildered jumble of uncertainties. 

I suppose that I may have looked like crumbled stone from the outside,

but there’s a cherry-red smolder in my bones, (turn out the lights;

you’ll see).

Back then, one good gust of wind, and

I’d have razed this place to the ground.

-          I could already taste the ashes.

By all means, one day I’ll ferment

the heartache you left me

into nostalgia. Time will do with us

what it wants.

One thing you taught me:

Do not look for healing

at the feet of

those who broke you.

Maybe you thought that you’d absolve yourself

of any impact or mistake

when you asked to explain.

(I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone so charmingly deluded).

But honey,

the joke’s on your meaningless gesture

because I absolved myself

the moment that I didn’t

commit suicide

on my 18th

birthday.

(I fought to live only because

I’m too stubborn to die quietly).

Bullet in my gut, blood staining my teeth, I lived

with my mind as my own hell

for years; (hell is languidly being abandoned by those I love).

I tore myself apart and spat in death’s face

to survive the last year, and somehow

I walked away with a smile.

It’s that they told me later that they hadn’t wanted to go about it like this at all, that they’d wanted to tell me months ago, but were convinced not to.

It’s that this was what I’d been conflicted about earlier, when you convinced me not to tell them, only to tell them later yourself.

It’s that this scenario is what drove a wedge between them and I in the first place, back in the beginning of the end of the summer.

It’s that the whole experience has become a twisted-up pile of torn apart words.

(It’s that we’d promised never to let a stupid thing like a boy come between us).

I wrote a letter, years ago,

And left my words folded up on their pillow;

"About what you said.

I’m not going to wake up and see you.

I’m already awake.

I already see you.

I’m not going anywhere."

(How uneasy, being fraught with the guilt of breaking your own oaths, even more so when they were just as profound for yourself as you made them).

Memory is fickle but some actions cannot be undone. 

For a while,

the thought of you was like spun sugar on my tongue.

And still, part of me feels terribly stupid for

playing that role

of being happy with only

the superficial few layers of love

and never anything deeper.

But I learned from you, and I know better now.

Know better than to change myself

in search of the approval of someone I love;

better than to let someone be

manipulative and condescending

under the guise of “for your own good;”

better than to be with someone who listened to me open up

about my fears and doubts,

never offering anything of their own.

I know that I am iron and sinew, all spitfire and bite. I know myself in the grip of  fighting tape around my knuckles and the snap of a bowstring. I know myself in holding tight the people I love and letting them hold me tight in return.

This is how I want to feel;

not used up,

but well-loved.

            (Some time ago,

I sat by myself, and finished

reading Saga).

Graduation, Tattoo, Car Crash, Ring, Bow & Arrows, and Being Touch-Starved

It's been a long time since I've posted on here, so I'll give the highlights from the last two months.

So I graduated from high school on May 23rd. The ceremony was fairly boring; the choir sang a beautiful song; Mr. Sullivan chugged a can of La Croix right before we walked out; the robes were hot and pretty itchy. But it's done.

Then my college freakout took a turn for the more severe. I wasn't doing well. I started doubting whether I could handle college; whether or not I'd have a breakdown halfway through the first semester and have to leave, wasting a lot of money.
I was questioning whether I should take a year/semester off, or take some classes at the local community college, or do volunteer work instead... I was freaking out.

Then I went to Tulsa for the first week in June to give some help to my aunt who is getting treatment for rectal cancer. (She's doing great, just more tired and in some pain).
I sorted and started clearing out her hellscape of a basement, took care of her 17 year old cat, and went to stuff like an all-female cast of Richard III with her and her boyfriend.
While I was there, I also got a tattoo of my left eye on my ankle, as recognition of the cataract I was born with.
After telling my aunt about my doubts about college, she planned a lunch party with five ladies who are friends of hers, ranging in age from 30 - 80. They all approached me either on their own or in a pair to talk to me about college and depression and personal drive. (I cried a little).
Then later, at the dining table, they all went around and gave me advice and shared personal stories and struggles they've had. It was extremely touching. (I cried then too).

I started working at the Southern Pine Company. I make minimum wage and do literally anything that's needed.
I sometimes answer phones, design possible furniture for manufacture, go through several dozen CDs full of photos (looking for relevant things for clients to see), sorting through pictures (including all the severely corroded ones) and scanning the good ones into the computer, planning some larger projects, and researching and writing letters to potential clients.
Among other things.

I also started TMS therapy for treatment-resistant major depression. I go every weekday for six weeks.

I went to the Embark Orientation for UNCA at the end of June. It actually went alright; I met some really nice people, found out that there's a large population of LGBT people, and got my schedule, which has classes I actually look forward to. Of course, the dorms we stayed in were incredibly uncomfortable (very loud, squeaky beds, etc) and it felt like a lot of the people were determined to be more politically correct than the next person, like everyone was trying to out-liberal each other. But I felt better about it.

On the way back from Asheville, I was driving while we were on the interstate, when I lost control of the car; it spun out and crashed into a pole on the median. It was weird; just before, the music suddenly got very loud, right before I lost control. It was like watching a movie of someone on a roller coaster.
I was in shock for a while; I started having a panic attack on the side of the highway while my dad made some calls. I had to call Bambi to talk to me in order to calm me down.
Then the state trooper showed up to make the report; he decided that no one was at fault, before he had to leave to chase down a truck whose back wheel had caught fire and was spewing smoke without the driver noticing.
I was really in shock for a while. My dad and I went to Shoney's; I lost any filter and started saying any thought I had, including my depression and the last time I self-harmed, among other things. Around midnight, I really stopped making sense, and started saying disconnected sentences as they half-formed in my mind.
The car is drivable, but has been declared totaled. It'll be collected this Monday. Dad got a nice used pickup truck, but I have a lot of weird feelings about it all.
Everything feels so out of control.

I was walking through this more suburban neighborhood with my friend, and I saw a tiny edge of something shiny buried in the dirt. I dug it up, and it turned out to be a U.S. Naval Academy ring from the class of 1965.
It was gold with an aquamarine gemstone and a name engraved on the inside. I couldn’t find any notices about lost class rings with any of those characteristics, so I posted a ‘found’ notice on the Savannah craigslist page. 

A few days later, I got an email from the USNA Administration, letting me know that they had notified the likely owner and he should be contacting me soon. Sure enough, I almost immediately got an email from the person whose name was inscribed on the inside, telling me about little details on the ring and his phone number. 

We set up a place and time, (the parking lot of a local seafood restaurant), and were able to meet each other.
His name is Leland and he’s at least 75 years old. The ring was stolen from his home in 1974, just about two streets away from where I found it. He thinks it’s been there the entire time. 

We talked for about an hour and a half about tons of stuff; what was stolen from his house, his time in the Navy, the trial and error of choosing his career, his kids and grandkids, book recommendations, places he’d lived, and a lot more; I found out that my homeroom teacher that I’d had for four years is one of his next door neighbors. 

He was almost in tears when I gave the ring to him; it was incredibly touching. I guess it was just a moment of serendipity. 

I just got back from New Mexico. We got in Thursday night and stayed until late the next Monday. We were there for my parents 25th wedding anniversary for them to renew renew vows. 

We stayed at friend’s houses in Albuquerque and Santa Fe for two nights, and at an Air BnB for two nights.
The ceremony was fairly short, only about 30 minutes. Twenty of so of their old friends attended. I read a short speech that I’d written. (the chaplain said it was the first time she’d heard someone say the word ‘asshole’ in a wedding ceremony in a church).
Afterwards, everyone went to our Air BnB for the after party. There was a LOT of champagne drunk by everyone. I made the playlist of music, and it was a big hit. A few people came up to me to tell me that they hadn’t heard the song playing in decades, and got a bit emotional. 

(I also got decently drunk, but my genes that give me a predisposition for alcoholism made it so I just get rather dizzy and uncoordinated rather than lowered inhibition).

While we were in Albuquerque, I went to an archery shop. for my 18th birthday/graduation gift, I found a beautiful recurve bow that fits me perfectly, with an excellent draw weight and length. It's 62 inches unstrung, with a 20 pound minimum draw weight. (stringing it is the hardest part, since its the most you'll ever physically bend it back; it has to pulled from bending forwards and straight to bending back with a pretty good curve. It's a lot of force). 

I got everything I needed; the bow, six arrows, an arm guard, a finger guard, and a stringer. It all got shipped to my house last week. I also later bought a quiver and a decently large target.

I'm excited.

I also got to go to the House of Eternal Return exhibit at the Meow Wolf museum in Santa Fe. It was INCREDIBLE. It was all inside the building, which is an old bowling alley, so it doesn’t seem very big.
You walk through the doors past the entrance desk, and somehow you’re in front of the porch of an old Victorian house at twilight. 

You walk inside, and you’re in a normal old-fashioned house with a normal kitchen and bedrooms and a living room and bathroom and everything. But there’s subtle clues about an odd circumstance found everywhere; in the mailbox, the code to the safe in the datebook on the coffee table; photographs on the walls; letters left pinned in closets. 

But then you realize that if you duck through the fireplace or climb into the refrigerator or into the washing machine, you will end up in a surreal dream world. 

There's an enormous tree, a huge yeti that moves, a futuristic teleportation depot, where you select which world you want to go to, and a different door will open and lead you somewhere different. There's an odd chinatown, a kitchen that's painted to look like the inside of an old cartoon, a room that makes you feel like you're in an aquarium, a cave with a giant dinosaur skeleton upon which you can play music on the ribs, an entire working antique arcade, a room with tiny houses on the cliffs on the walls, creepy half-broken animatronic hands that you can control, a room where every wall and ceiling are mirrors, lit only by tiny lights that look like stars, and an actual space capsule. 

It was amazing.

It's been roughly three and a half months since I've had any REAL physical human contact. All I've had is quick, uncomfortable hugs with people older than me and handshakes.

I'm a tactile person. It's an important thing to me. Without contact, especially for a long time, everything feels separated and lonely and like my skin doesn't fit right.

Apparently the clinical term is 'touch-starved.'

It wasn't until this weekend, when I went to Bambi's house and explained things to her. She immediately agreed to hold me and run her fingers through my hair while I cried. 

Words can't describe how much I needed that. She's such an amazing person and I love her so much.

So there you go.

Senior Trip + My Eyebrow

Last Friday, we left for our senior class trip to Orlando.

A long bus ride later, we were at Daytona Beach. Later that night, we spent some time at downtown Disney, (where no one bought anything because it was so insanely expensive).

The next day we went to a water park, (where my friend with Strep throat had to be taken to the first aid building.) I also got to have a conversation with my homeroom teacher in his bathing suit, when I'd only ever seen him in a suit and tie and talked to him maybe four times in four years. It was surreal.

That night was Grad Bash, where Universal Studios is open only to High School seniors from 7 pm to 2 am. I was fantastic. We met some stereotypical kids from rural Alabama, rode tons of roller coasters, hung out in Harry Potter World,
As it got late, I started getting too tired. I convinced my friend Alishe to slap me across the face, hard, to wake myself up. We heard a horrified "Ooooooh" from the people walking past. At least it worked for a while.

When it was approaching 2 am, I began falling asleep every time we sat down for a moment. One of my friends, a guy who's over six feet tall, gave me a piggyback ride to the meeting place while I slept, I woke up just long enough to hear someone ask, "Is that a boy or a girl that he's carrying?" For some reason, I found this absolutely hilarious.

~

About a week after I got back from the senior trip, I took a razor blade and sliced a cut above my eyebrow.
I just couldn't get the thought of it out of my mind. I finally did it because I found a little butterfly bandage. It seemed like a reason to do it.
No idea why. It just made me feel...interesting. Like people noticed me. I felt awake for a little while. It healed in about five days, and I forgot pretty quickly.

The Sensory Deprivation Tank

Today, I spent an hour in a sensory deprivation tank.

I was prepared to get in, completely naked but for the defiant look I was wearing on my face.

Climbing in was incredibly intimidating, because you're stepping into nothing. A dark void. And then you close the door and you realize that you're already floating without even noticing, because the water is so salty. You can't sink. So you lie back and relax into the warm water like you would a bed.

I could have easily fallen asleep in minutes. But I didn't let myself; I wanted to experience nothingness.

I found that I was most comfortable with my arms bent at the elbow so that each hand was parallel to each shoulder. It was how I felt best. However, this didn't give me much room on either side. If I moved, I'd end up slowly floating off center, and my finger occasionally brushed the wall. But I didn't let this break the state I was in.

I could hear my heartbeat, feel the minuscule movement in the water. The ceiling seemed to expand to a great distance.
As my eyes relaxed, I could see ribbons of color snaking across the ceiling, almost imperceptible from the darkness. Sometimes there'd be a pinpoint of light, which would glimmer for a moment before fading away. Sometimes there'd be a little burst of blue lights, widening and narrowing in a circle.
As time went on, the blackness above me seemed to change to a blue, somehow even darker than black. I'd see columns of black move slowly through the blue.
Once, I saw the silhouette of a hand right above my face.
The color of the darkness momentarily shifted to orange, still darker than black, before going back to blue.

At the same time, I was listening. The room was totally soundproofed and I had earplugs in, but I could hear things. My heartbeat. Food digesting. Every twitch of my muscles. And every few seconds, a low rumble, like someone pulling a wooden chair along the ground on the other side of the house.
The rumble would last for a few seconds, sometimes longer. A few times, as the rumble stopped, I'd hear a low voice murmuring for just a moment.

To let you know that your time was up, they'd play music. Softly at first, slowly going louder, allowing you to become aware of it through the water and earplugs.
I was quite confused for a moment, distantly wondering if that was my signal to get out or if I was imagining the music.
As soon as I became aware, the vast ceiling seemed to violently collapse down until it was almost touching me.

I slowly got up and cracked open the door. It was bright. Moving felt wrong. Having weight felt wrong. I clambered out and into the shower in my room.

Once I rinsed all the salt off, I got dressed and went back to the lounge area. The lady who'd explained everything to me before I went in gave me a cup of tea. We chatted and pet her dog until my dad came to pick me up.

~

Prom was on April 8th. I went with my friend Russell after several dates didn't work out.
It was alright, prom itself was almost identical to last year, but with slightly better music. Although they did actually have two slow dances.

We left and stopped by Waffle House before going to the beach and hanging out. We found college students filming the ocean under red lights and some people smoking weed in a life guard tower. We left around midnight, only to discover that no where is open. So we sat in the Target parking lot, clicking the 'surprise me' button on wikihow articles.

It went alright.

I'm Doing Better....?

Well, for that week or so before my 18th birthday, things got bad. Very bad. It was the worst I can remember ever getting.
I almost checked myself into the hospital.

And then it was my birthday.
I took my dad to work so I could have his car for the day.
I went to the beach and reread The Book Thief for a while. Then I went home and sat on the porch for a few more hours, still reading.
Then I drove out and got my dad and Alex from downtown. Alex and I got lunch and went makeup shopping, as I am completely incompetent with makeup. We hung out at home for a while, then I took them back.
My parents took me out to a nice restaurant and gave me an album of pictures from my whole childhood, which was nice. Afterwards, we went to a gas station and I bought a lottery ticket. (Didn't win anything, but it was still fun).
My parents got me a large squid plushie, a kanken backpack, and a BUNCH of great antique photographs, mostly from the early 1900s. The best one was a silver exposure portrait from around the late 1800s.

I wouldn't say that I'm better. Not by long shot. But I don't think I'll do that anytime soon.

I don't know what to do

There is no room for me at The Mountain this summer.
I was too late. Or they didn't want me.
The two people there who are most important to me both got chosen to be counselors. Not surprising. But I won't be there.
Funny how some of the CIT's caught with drugs last year are getting to be counselors this year.

I could have applied to be a garden intern. But the pay is sooooo little. It's basically volunteering. I need to make money this summer. Somehow.

This will be the first time in seven years that I haven't spent the summer there. I won't be able to be at my Home, where I feel like I belong.

It's what kept me going all year.

~

Someone came to visit. A surprise.We had dinner. They stayed for maybe two hours. What they said, when they left, I don't know.
I had a really hard time.

~

We went to New York over spring break. It was fine, I guess.
I got to hang out with my awesome cousin and her boyfriend. Got pretty buzzed with them.
I got to walk around on my own, just looking at stuff and getting mildly lost. It was nice.
We went to A LOT of art galleries and museums. I liked The Mett the best, seeing all the old Egyptian and Greek and Medieval stuff.
We got to see Cirque du Soleil.
Mom and I went to the giant Macy's. Got a bunch of stuff on sale. A new purse. New jeans. New shoes.
And... a prom dress. I didn't even know if I wanted to go. Especially now that I didn't have a date. And my second date can't make it. And my third date bailed for someone else. It looks like I am. Maybe with another person, maybe not. We'll see.

Thing is, while I was trying on my favorite dress, I had a breakdown in the changing room. I'm not so skinny anymore. I've always been The Skinny Person. Now I needed a size 5. I realized I had stretch marks on my hips. I realized that I have a good deal of acne on my back, not to mention my face. The dress is mostly backless.

It didn't help things.

~

I'm about to turn 18.
It's funny.
For as long as I can remember, I've always just assumed that I wouldn't make it to 18 years old. I knew I'd die before then, somehow. If not in some accident, then I'd just kill myself. It was simple; it was a fact. I didn't want to be an adult. I still don't. I'm not ready.
And now it looks like I will turn 18. Otherwise, it's getting down to the wire. Not much time left to decide.
I don't think I would. But I've just been having a really hard time. With that. With my future. With everything.
I realized after that Halloween party where literally two people came that I don't have many friends. I have plenty of acquaintances, but very few friends.
It seems like I'm drifting away from everyone.
Of course, everyone will go on about how they'll always be there to talk. Always be there when you need them. But they're not.

I'm alone.