Winter Congress 2018


Happy Holidays

Everyone talks about the holidays as if they’re the best time of the year; there are songs about how wonderful it all is. It’s a time to spend time with family and loved ones, and reunite with pets, and give gifts, and spread joy, and be merry, and lock yourself in your room because your family is terrible and it’s better to be alone than to be surrounded by constant fighting and resentment. Continue reading “Happy Holidays”

Of an Emotional Night Years Ago

That’s an awful long time.
Love never lasts forever.
After a while it’s routine and comfort that holds you.

What happens when the routine is broken by simple mistakes?
When those simple mistakes create a world of heartache?
Or is it really heartache?

How do you break an empty heart?
Sweetheart, your best friend beat you to it.
Long before you, this heart was touched.

He was the beacon of light on miserable school mornings.
He was the pest abruptly interrupting quiet afternoons.
He was long nights and sing-alongs when my father thought me to be asleep.

Did I love him? Surely, I must have.
One could never be sure after a lifetime of feeling unwanted.
We fell out; miscommunication can break people.

You brought me a new kind of love.
I was unstoppable with you on my mind.
My friends watched me smile more than I have since your best friend left me crumbling.

You swore you’d do so much and more for me.
At night, you’d send sweet messages.
The first time you disappeared, I had hope.

You reappeared, and those pictures came up.
Social media can destroy one’s mentality.
Your dry words broke me down further, yet I got back up.

The second time, my mother warned me.
Too little, too late, and I should’ve listened.
I knew something was wrong.

Your best friend appeared in my life again.

Calls between the two of us became a regular thing.
He has endless friends; he chose to find me.
We reminisced our days together and created new ones to look upon in the future.
Everyone who knew us knew we were together again.
You could see it in my smile, in my annoyed glances and in my screams filled with laughter.

You came back.
You left again, and this time it was three weeks.
I learned to live without you; I lived with your best friend.

Skype calls.
Text messages.
He never let me out of his sight for me than the few hours of sleep I got at 3am when he finally gave into his own need for rest.

You came back again.
I saw you online, but we never talked.
He hadn’t talked to me since you got back.

I’m not sure which hurt worse.

I messaged you on a Saturday night, a moment of weakness.
It’s been two days and you haven’t answered.
I’m sure it’ll soon turn into a week then a month then I’ll forget you altogether.

I logged off. A desperate need for isolation itched away at my chest.
He talked to me again, asked me to wish him luck on his exam.
I’m sure he did great.

I hope you’re happy with her, if the situation is what i think it is.
You could’ve at least told me.
This always happens to me, I’m just that type of girl.

Maybe I should’ve said yes to him, that night we met, and avoided all of this.
Do I regret taking your hand?
No, I’d do it all again.

There’s nothing I do better than make mistakes.

What I’m trying to say is…
It’s 2am and you can go screw yourself.

Bottled Up Emotion

I’m terrified you’ll spill the secrets I confessed those late nights. I’m terrified you’ll leave me for someone better. I’m terrified you’ll grow tired of me. I’m terrified you don’t take me seriously. I’m terrified you’ll think I’m pushing you away. I’m terrified you’ll think I’m overbearing. I’m terrified you’re only being nice. I’m terrified I’m not as special as you’re making me feel. I’m terrified you treat someone else like this and give me empty promises. I’m terrified I’ll get attach again. I’m terrified love is pointless. I’m terrified of the novels being wrong. I’m terrified of best friends not lasting forever. I’m terrified you’ll realize how messed up I’ve become. I’m terrified you’ll never want someone who is always so terrified. I’m terrified because my worst fears always come true.

An Introvert’s Worst Nightmare, Catharsis, and Therapy

***Captions tell a story.***