elegy × 2

ELEGY I / elegy × 2 / ἐλεγείᾱ

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2023.03.23.23:32{seriously}

usameriKKKan individualism.

all i wanted was for people to be baseline kind. to not lie, & to communicate.

other people haven't felt real to me in years.

all i wanted was for people to be baseline kind. to not lie, & to communicate.

but no. even when i was 21, & people told me my writing saved their lives. & i tried never to tell anybody my age, bc i knew they'd treat me differently. they’d treat my writing differently, if they knew how young i was.

i've been watching this silly internalized-ableist show. & i get so emotional over the characters, even though none of the characters seem to understand consent or boundaries. everybody is cheating on each other. it isn't meant to be a trashy drama. it's a family show.

today, the bitchy white mum character i hate said:

"they say the best care-takers are those who weren't cared for themselves."

& i thought about it. all the saneism. people always thinking i'm too emotional, too impulsive, i seem immature. uncommitted. i know how to save lives. it's bullshit to call me self-destructive. nobody is saving *my* life. nobody can even keep a single promise.

the people who always judged my actions are also the cruellest people i've ever known. the ones who come back, begging for forgiveness, later.

saneists.

but i had to pause the show. bc how could anybody think i'm irresponsible or self-destructive, when i've been able to save money in freakish ways, hallucinate in 5{?} different non-english speaking countries, & still manage to be in one piece?

bc it isn't me who needs to keep myself safe. it's the world. & the world doesn't want to keep me safe. the world never did.

i wish i could make people understand just how hard it has been to survive being me. the ways i've had to survive. the reason i remember dates & times so well, but i can't actually believe that most of my memories are real. but i'm scared. bc it seems like people lash out at me bc they're jealous of me. which is *so* fucking strange. *i* wouldn't be jealous of me.

{neuro-atypical masking} makes me suicidal.

i don't like existing around other people.

i know you don't care about me. it's fine.

months ago, i texted somebody, scared. i text somebody, scared, about this, every day. the somebody i texted that day didn't have a good answer. i asked how i could ever meet anybody as brave as me one day, to fall in love with. i text somebody, scared, about this, every day. all i want is to fall in love. & i know i can do anything. i can keep fighting. i can never-give-up. i can manage to succeed at trying not to kill myself every day. i can try try try & try & try & try again, to make new friends. i can accomplish my work dreams, by myself even; i mean, i've always launched while homeless & with no real social support, bc that's been the *majority* of my life. as the beautiful fog in my brain lifts sometimes, catastrophically, i realize how horrifically powerful it is that i've done all this work while barely surviving. &, most importantly, *without love*.

cops have always tried to get rid of whomever seems different. whomever challenges the social order just a bit {too much}. that is the role of cops. to maintain imperialistic conformity.

anyway. i cry about this, every day. i know i can do anything. i can create, i can make friends, i can continue with my very non-"traditional", non-hierarchical healing work. i can try to accomplish anything i work hard at. but i can't guarantee that you will love me.

i found some poems i wrote before my 2018 very-{mentally-}unconscious-ER visit. one was titled: "Nobody wants to love a schizophrenic"

then:

"Nobody wants to date a sad girl"

the first few lines of the 1st one:

"y’all wanna love the manic pdg when y’all don’t know what manic means
manic means psychosis
manic means wanting to kill yourself"

one of my biggest fears as a child is that i would find myself psychotic, or "mentally ill", one day. one of my biggest fears was that i would find myself "mentally ill" one day. i already was. i hate this world. the beautiful world inside my head is so much better. i want to show it to you. there, i dream of a world without abuse. & all systemic oppression is just systemized abuse.

one misdiagnosis by a middle-aged cishet chinese man who talked to me. while i was quiet & oppressed. for 5 minutes & told me to go back to my parents {chinese mental "health""care" professionals always seem to love telling me this, right after i tell them that my parents are abusive. the cognitive dissonance is astounding, it's like most people don't even know what the word "abuse" *means* [ *whispers: they don't. we're all speaking different languages out here, at this point. weaponizing words we don't understand, against other people, to make other people feel bad. /end whisper* ]} after one white boy broke his promise to me &, not exactly resultantly, called the cops. ruined my life for almost/over 7 years. one misdiagnosis around my birthday.

my 2017-2019 therapist told me she didn't think i was schizophrenic. she told me she didn't even think i had "bipolar "disorder"", which was that chinese man's misdiagnosis of me.

she said she thought i had trauma, that manifested in bipolar-like symptoms. & i agreed, but i didn't actually believe her, even though some selves in me knew she was right. i knew she was right. but it was easier to think of myself as fixable. that way, i could be safe. from random whites calling the cops on me, & my friends always abandoning me like the cowards they are instead of defending me against injustice. it was easier to think of myself as fixable, bc that way, you could stop breaking my heart.

i know you don't care about me.

it's fine.

every day, i feel scared that nobody will ever be able to love somebody like me. bc it's not just the ""neuro""atypicality"" or disabilities or whatever. it's not even just saneism.{.. i think?}

every day, i feel scared that nobody will ever love me.

in the darkness
i will meet
my creators

& they will all agree
i'm a
suffocator

i've cried unplannedly, unexpectedly, & uncontrollably, in the state of texas three times: 2012, 2014, & 2015. i haven't been back since. texas, tattoo, trans. in that order. but i blocked those memories out. & now i'm scared to make new memories, bc i am terrified of how fragile human bodies are.

"ableists (not [necessarily/just] people with capitalism-approved bodyminds) deny reality:
all of our {bodies & minds = bodyminds} are finite & fragile."

i said to somebody today.

get beat up enough as a kid, you’ll never forget that. i never take that for granted, or, at least, i will lie & claim that i do {i do never, i mean}.

usameriKKKan individualism.

all i wanted was for people to be baseline kind. to not lie, & to communicate.

i know you don't care about me.

& that's fine.

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ELEGY I / elegy × 2 / ἐλεγείᾱ

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