written 08 november 2009.
things that i’ll never say; post therapy musings. an old poem i’m quite fond of.
“tell me a little about yourself.”
i burn myself on the heated board at
work every time i make a mistake.
it’s become a game to see how many
seconds i can last before i move my
hand. (i put it back a minute later)
sometimes i pick up cups of coffee
and hot soup even though people
warn me that it’s too hot. i just want
to know what it’s like to feel warm.
“what did you do today?”
i stared at my fish for two hours
today. as i watched him swim around
in his little bowl i was envious of his
life. spending all day swimming in circles,
rediscovering his plant every time he
passes it. (sometimes i wish we could
today i wore a tank top and shorts
because i’m already cold, and
walking around in the cool autumn
night makes me feel less numb (it’s
weird, but i have to do it)
“do you want to talk about it?”
i want to yell and scream and raise
my voice but when i try to speak
all that comes out is this tiny, timid
thing that is nothing more than a
little whisper. (talking is becoming