The Isolate

My back hurts
My head hurts
My pride hurts
My soul hurts

I can’t have the ones I want
I can’t trust the ones that say they want me
I can’t keep anyone in my life for very long
Either I chase them away or they were never really here

Men are weird
Women are weirder
I don’t know how to have any of you in my life
Unless I fuck you well, turn you on, entertain you, reassure you
Amuse you like a temporary visitor
Make you smile as you close the door and say “She’s a funny guest”

I’m nobody’s friend
I’m your jester
Your lover
Your mirror
You put away
You see when you feel like looking

But behind the looking glass
Is someone who was never taught how to stand up straight
Never touched and held by the ones who mattered most
Never given makeup tips and a tea party or had her hair brushed softly
Never told “You’re perfect as you are”
Never told that kissing boys could wait
Left to her own devices inside an ever-thickening clear protective shell

Wonderland, alright

The most nurturing women I’ve known in the last 20 years were ones I paid. The real pros. The ones wearing interesting jewelry sitting in wingback chairs in small one-person offices.
Mother/sister figures on the clock.
I’m a case file baby
I wouldn’t be here now without them.
And they’re no more real than any of the revolving door people I’ve encountered.

Nothing is permanent
No one stays
No one gets too close
Neither do I

All the penitence and amends and steps will never change this
Vulnerability just gets me vulnerable
Something is in me/on me
Like a repellant
Like a bad reflection
Makes you turn away and leave
Rather than see
Makes you put away that mirror
Makes you shut the door
Keeps me wondering if I’ll ever not be lonely
Keeps me wandering the earth like the ugly duckling “Are you my mother?”

Forced self reliance is not independence
It is not a way of seeing yourself in the world
It is how you survive
Nothing more

I am not strong
I am not fierce
I am wounded and fighting for my life
I am terrified because professed saviors left me infected

I am human and aching for comfort and kindness and gentle words
Like everyone else
But it’s harder for me to know it when it’s offered or what it might look like
Harder to see/feel/hear/touch/taste
Harder to accept a gesture
From inside this cracked world lens

Most of the attention
looks like inevitable disappointment or insincere pity
So I stay here
Waving and smiling toothily
If I seem alright
You can just keep moving
I won’t let you have feelings for me

I’m nobody’s friend
I’m your jester
Your lover
Your mirror
You’ll take me out again when you want to feel pretty


3 thoughts on “The Isolate

  1. No honey, you are so much more than parts that others take for their own use. I’m sorry if you’ve lacked the nurture you needed growing up to feel whole. I hope you find your way. I can relate. 💙

    Liked by 1 person

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