I am scared of miscommunication
taking away the elation
of utopic conversation.

I'm not afraid of emancipation,
not on my toes for equality.
I'm horrified by overcompensation.

Our youth hardwires us into some basic
identity, from then on we may choose.

it has been over two years and i am proud of my growth. my main focus this year is to finish my grieving so that i may continue my life in an efficient manner.
the process of grieving is commonly known as, but not limited to:

denial
anger
bargaining
depression
acceptance

my denial proces:
many times the easiest way to get over trauma is to repress it. i was 15 when i was ra ped. legal age of consent is 16. he was 18. i was naive, and could not imagine the man i loved doing that to me. i believed that it was an accident and neither of us knew what was right or wrong. I had assumed that because i had previously given him my body, he was able to ignore my pleads to stop this time. i blamed myself more than i blamed him, and he blamed me. i had been so infatuated with him that i had pushed away the people who cared most about me. when i told them about being ***** our bond was already so far gone that they could not feel anything more than pitty. i was terrified of losing him, so i convinced us both it was an accident. ra pe is no accident.

through denial became anger:
i became genuinely angry for the first time in my life. i was angry at him for being somebody that i had trusted and loved. angry that i had let this happen to myself. angry that i had no strength nor respect to stand up for myself. if i had told him to stop one more time he would have. i understand now that i should not have had to say no more than once. i was angry because i let myself down, but I’m more angry that i could not blame him. being angry was the easiest part of grieving. it is okay to he angry.

bargaining is a toxic healing method:
i became really good at bargaining with myself. after he was gone i had begun to understand my emotions, but i could not control them. my fear of more being taken from me fed my overcompensation. i began to give my body away, so that it could not be taken. it was an unhealthy coping mechanism. my body is not meant to be given nor taken.

depression hit hard:
i began to reflect on all of the points in my life that had lead me to this one. i became close to restarting the grieving process. i spent a long portion of the depression stage in denial. then i was angry that i had backtracked to the beginning. i had more meaningless se x that i now regret more than anything. i saw how good his life had been going and how poorly mine was. it was obvious that i needed help.

acceptance:
this entire passage was my process to acceptance. i reached out to my therapist. i made new friends. i stopped wallowing in self pity and i began to recover. i stopped begging to forget my flaws and began to forgive them.

pain is too many exclamation points -
some kind of overcompensation for the sober realization that we need to be happy,
but aren't

pain is burnt toast, but not in the good way;
like the way that it sits on your tongue
Makes your mouth taste like metal,
makes your words feel like crumbs
waiting to be swept away

today, I laughed too much, so by 3 o' clock I had no smiles left in me
They have gone like I have gone to sleep
waiting for some alarm to sing
to ring with something like hope
something to cut the rope, the knots
my stomach ties when I don't notice
Pain is knowing that you know this
will hurt
and knowing is half the battle.

But knowing is...half the battle
The rest of the war is dealing with more
exclamation points than you wanted
more mornings without alarms

more meals
of only crumbs.

This week has been very long so far                                              
Maybe because I mashed my head on Saturday,                        
But Joe turned up to surprise his Ma,                                            
Would have bin rude not to share the MDMA.

But what goes up has to come down,
We had our fun, our chats, our tunes.
On Sunday he was Nottingham bound
Monday  a pin-pricked balloon.

Overcompensation followed
I Frontlined the pets, took the cat to the vets, did the weekly shop, used the hoover and mop.......watched "The Waltons"........I made pies and mash, grieved for spent cash, looked for a job, tried not to open my gob..........watched "The Waltons"......I sorted the cupboards, mixed up my words, misheard repeatedly, had great thoughts ...fleetingly........watched "The Waltons"

Finally Friday beckons invitedly, a time of unwinding.
I can't believe that in the past I would have bin planning  
More pill taking excitedly.More fun and lights blinding
But thank god I'm too old to be young .....       Must be  soon Spring.

overcompensation
Wasted
For the others
To hide in
Tight-fit basements
Some are vacant
Some are shrewd
But both take advantage of the smallest in the room

integrity must've been a four-letter word
seeing how you can only see syllables
as you stole every last bit of sense
that anyone around you ever heard of
just to make some sense of your own
honing the skill set for nothing in life
but the simplicity of generalities
overcompensation for the lack of love
and loving the compensation all give
unknowingly, robbed blind; now blinded
shouting every four letter word
they count for the actual lettering.

I am trapped
between worlds where I am nothing and I am everything
I am in pieces
cornered by spirits I never knew existed
in the sunny days of childhood
Where I draw graves and fear the sound of a gun
Where I do as I should but am told I am not enough
Where the salt in my tears became a familiar taste
Where I wish that my grades measured my worth
because I had prefect grades but a flawed personality
I am floating
on a high of self appreciation
but have I gone too far?
have I turned into him?
my empathy feels like overcompensation
sincerity engulfs my actions
have I turned into him?

I fell in love with glimpses,
of images,
of what you were...
and what we could be.
Glimpses that blinded me.

I found myself looking behind,
to try to find that one time,
where I saw who you are.
Without the mask, and costume,
you’re convinced that you need to wear.
Convinced by your beautiful soul, smile and hair.
That they are not, and never would be enough.

Overcompensation is your image.

The reflection of perfection, in a flawed mirror.

But those glimpses of purity, were purely and surely
who you really are.
But if you don’t know it, how could I?
How could I see,
and feel,
and experience,
the you that "you" run away from.
So often, that it has to be bad for you,
and tire you out.
Why else would you run?
Have you become so accustomed to feeling numb,
that feeling anything else is feeling dumb?
and weird?
to seek out the flaws that make you unique?

Flaws is the harshest word you’ve ever heard
But the beauty I see in it,
and you,
are what keep me afloat during the stormier times.
Times from stories we don’t tell to anyone,
but remember as we lay awake at night.
Left wondering which secret story it was,
that sealed the deal.

Like a brand new prescription,
these glimpses of you give me hope,
that this time will be different.
I will pace myself, with this new addiction.
Far from a joke, but who am I kidding?
I’m the only one laughing,
manic and panicked.
Standing defeated, from believing I had it.
The comfort in pain just waiting for you to shine on through;
proves that if I’m not chasing her, and if I’m not chasing you,
I’m running in place, in a race that I’ll lose.
But losing you is not a loss,
thats just our love and what it cost.

February
i woke up on an island at 5:30 am, 15 minutes of sleep
an infected lip piercing, a bottle of cisco and a tin cup
the acre was covered in sleepy studded bodies slumped over in tents and on the floor inside and
i watched the sun rise
i ran into someone i hadn’t seen in 4 years
we hadn’t heard from him after his rehab stunt and assumed he’d OD’d after he left
we stayed up together and he caught the first bus back into the city
walking along dirt roads with his fingers hooked in his belt loops
December
your band played my friend’s show but i didn’t see you
i was outside smoking and flirting away beers from lonely fathers
it was friday and i had worked my first 10 hour shift
i felt untouchable
the next night we met at the bonfire
you introduced yourself to me and my friend while we talked about her court case by the sink
it’s hazy in my head from the wine and the pills
a few months later i wished i could remember it more clearly
when i left the party you pulled the choke chain around my neck
told me i shouldn’t let myself be owned by someone else
then kissed my mouth
i was with you the night james was put away for ****** possession 5 months later
you swerved the van away 3 feet from the bridge railing
i wasn’t wearing a seatbelt
the taste of malt liquor turns my stomach
March
i met a man at a drum circle and thought i was in charge
until we left his apartment to meet my friends after a week and i was already 2 shots and 2 pills down at 11 am
i thought i was over intimidation tactics but i can’t remember 8 solid hours hours of my life
i know we ended up at overlook because that’s what they told me later
liquor had me feeling so good i forgot xanax was a drug
xanax had me feeling so good i forgot oxycontin was an ******
6 weeks later he was arrested for insurance fraud
he has a nice cottage with pink trimmed windows in santa ana and a steel rod in his spine
with how much time i have spent in rooms labeled as ‘calming’
you would think pavlov would have something to say about low warm lighting and
overstuffed couches and the effect they have now
some people say that when you watch someone die
you can see their soul float out of their body
i’ve never seen it
but maybe that’s just more proof
i don’t like to say overcompensation
but i don’t know what other umbrella term to use
for every time i have ever said “i love you”
to anyone