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slugs in my belly

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I’ve been listening to my dreams
And taking the subconscious advice
(Despite it being occasionally awful and oftentimes abstract to the point of confusion).

But every moment I spend awake
I think I feel a large lump in my throat,
Though I’m not too sure it’s from the sadness.
It might be the fried chicken I pretty much inhaled,
Trying to distract myself from your voice echoing in my head.

Tears sit and pool on my lower eyelids
Because I won’t let them go any further.
I’ve also a chest full of fear
And a legs that feel like containers full of bees
(I’ve been sitting cross-legged too long
Listening to that record you bought me
To soothe the pain that came after looking at my credit card statements
After I impulse-bought that “authentic vintage” record player).

Yeah, I’ve made many mistakes!
I keep putting myself in debt.

I owe myself a new heart.



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There’s a space in this relationship but I cannot determine if it’s a black hole or just respectful space. I constantly try to deconstruct it.
I’m unsure if we are to be forever. It’s a thought that plagues me. Healthy relationships don’t focus on maybes! But telling one to live in the moment is an easy idea to shout- practice is a pain.
Maybe in twenty years I’ll be speaking to another man, trying in vain to remember this one’s name, and all the while my head only echoes, “Ivan.”
Maybe he I will fully lose myself if I do not leave. Maybe he is a plague, maybe a leech that latches on to me because I know no better. Maybe he is short and is pulling me down. Maybe we are yanking the potential from each other like it’s no more than string coming from our chests.

He says he does not force me to do it or not, yet though he does not say “stop”. He says “I don’t want to,” and it is always easy to get into technicalities & make oneself devoid of responsibility. He does not say “do not go” but he says “I don’t care if you do or don’t.”
Maybe he wants me to take charge, pull the reins (though he bucks reluctantly). Maybe I am to whip him into shape. Maybe it is a test – my subconscious has thrown me into this reality out of boredom, or to improve my ability to rely on only myself. Maybe it is not real. Maybe it doesn’t matter – it will all be over soon anyway.
God only knows why I love him. Why I daydream, why I cry, why I devote my time. There is no point to this feeling. It comes, however. It stays and pervades my dreams. It brings me fear.
I love [Ivan].

Note to Gabriel

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I haven’t stopped thinking about you.

Not in a pathetic way. I hope. I don’t want to be with you again. And I don’t only think about you, so don’t flatter yourself!

I just have this strange feeling that you’re watching me, or you’ve assigned someone to do it.

I know closure doesn’t exist but I sure wish it did!

Why did you go back to your wife, Gabriel? You made me think you despised her. Maybe you protested a little too much, but what was up with that?

Why did you lie to me? To protect me? Did you ever really want me?

I offered to leave. Several times. I told you that I would go. And you told me to stay, you goddamn bastard! You said you wanted me back.

I am insecure. I am broken. I was when I met you. As corny as it sounds, you were my drug. My absolute angel! I wanted to forgive you so many times. That was a different Angelica. Cliché, again, but this letter is not for you, it is for me.

Were you always thinking of taking her back?

How disgusting, that I still think I deserve to speak to you. This letter is practically masturbatory. I hope you’re in a better place, no more fights & your family is happy & safe & you’re happy with your life & work.

You shook me to the core. I have never found my place with you.


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My heart has been broken so many times.

I have my heart under a microscope & I’m trying to figure out what makes it tick. Where thr cracks are.

It’s not completely their fault. Not completely. But what does it mean when I still think about them?

We won’t be together. Ever again. I won’t do that to myself or them. But I love to think about it.

Is that dangerous? How do I distract myself?

Is this a cry for help?

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I’ve changed almost completely. The human adventure is full of peril, because you can lose yourself at any given moment. You fall into a ravine with only your wits to pull you back out.

Depression is something so prevalent, & I believe we all make light of it because it is so normal.

Two days ago I was driving home drunk & wanted to drive off the bridge.

I am in this void. Hopelessness seems to be the only rational solution. Why waste my energy? So I nap in the ravine & wait for the end of my days.

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This job is kicking my ass.

I have no time for myself, no time for others.

My savings are almost depleted, my bills are rising.

Better it happens now, however, than when I’m old and in terrible health.

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There’s a stillness here.

Maybe I should be taking advantage of this time to get ready.

But I’m afraid to go back into that room with you.

What will you think?

If I tell you what I’m feeling, will you sigh in disgust?

I’m sorry to be another girl with emotions. I’m sorry I’m not a supermodel with a blank stare.

Should I leave you before you leave me? Should I call you names?

This missor makes me look pretty.

Yesterday, when we were in the store together, I caught a glimpse of myself & almost wanted to cry.

Is this enough for you? Or are you so desparate for love that you’ll take anything?

Have you seen the true me? The glimpse of myself that shows in my eye when I forget myself?

Tell me that you’re in love with her. Show me, because I’m too afraid to ask you if you are. Kiss her. I may be bold but I’m too shy to wrap my arms around you.

Here’s to another heartbreak.

I’m sorry I wasn’t enough

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I didn’t laugh when I was supposed to

and I cried a lot.

By the time I figured out you loved me,

you’d already figured I wanted nothing to do with you.

It was a lot.

There was a lot.

I had no time, and when I did I couldn’t figure out how to love you.

I practiced, rehearsed it.

And maybe it was kind of me to practice kindness to you,

but now it feels fake.

Or was there more of it, because I cared so much?

You’re gone now, another memory.

Maybe you weren’t that big to me. Maybe you weren’t supposed to have a central role. Or maybe you were supposed to be a central role.

Are you here again?

How much meaning am I allowed to assign to this moment?

Please forgive me.

I never thought myself good enough for you.


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I really want to throw up.

He’s cute but I don’t make eye contact.

“Why not?”

“I dunno, I don’t wanna seem intimidating. What if he isn’t into me, and I’m just some ugly girl checking him out?”

“You’re ridiculous.”

Another cute guy has escaped me. “I’ll never find love,” I think, and let out a big sigh.

My head is spinning and my eyes hurt and my body is cold. The ugly old man across the street locks eyes with me, grins and waves.