Kind of Like That

Self-Portrait
I will write myself into these pages.
I do not want my body, scratched so
it resembles more of a screen than
of a true skin. I will cover myself in an animals pelt:
the caged bird, that is me.
Drape me into your words, let them wash over me and
in the same breath, let them leave me far behind.
Let them leave me but you, you, I cannot live without because
I have always been this way: what the world wants I do not.
I will be the first to declare myself as weak and the only true thing you will ever need to know about me is that I skip through the sad parts of movies.

I do not want this body. I can not continue
to be chewed up and spit right back out, so long
as I don't recognize how crunching can be such an easy thing to do.
So long, as has left me wanting but what the world wants,
I do not and the only true thing you will ever need to know about me is that
I skip through the sad parts of movies.
I do.

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I am back into this cycle of writing poems, in this, one of the greatest transition periods of my life, when I am in-between happy and sad, anxious and calm, in-between home and not, in-between my parents and in-between America and the rest.

I have never been so far away from my home, from everyone I love and while I am still confused as to exactly how I should feel, I can't help but wanting to constantly embrace every new thing, person, aspect, that my life now contains. After a semester of the exact same depression and the constant battle against it, I cannot help but feel relieved that I am away. That I have left my shell so far behind and that that life no longer contains me. It was so easy for me to give up, last semester, last year. It seemed like the only thing to do, the only thing I really could do. Now, I just feel relieved to not have to make the choice any more.

And I am still so tired, so bone-tired of existing and living with this sadness that will just never go away. That's the thing about grief though, it doesn't ever go away, it just changes. And all fall and winter, I was waiting for it to change, to finally be okay. I should have known it would never change just like that, that I would have to learn how to peacefully co-exist with this grief, with this soul-sucking feeling of helplessness and loss.

I remembered one of the trips we went on, a few days ago, and I couldn't help but smile at how funny the memory was, how we'd slept in the same bed and how much she'd made me laugh before my very first FIS race ever, when the fog was unrelenting and I was so scared. It was the first time I was able to not cry when I thought about her. And so many of my memories of her are so good, that I have been filled with such sadness when realizing every memory of her will now be so forever tainted.

I cannot continue to let her memories be tainted because it just does not feel right. She was sunshine and so are the memories I have of her. I will live with them and let them be funny, let them be sad and great and will let that be okay. I have to learn to live with this grief, to let it change and become a part of myself that does not make me feel ashamed. And I am still learning how to do that, still having moments where I am not dealing at all (see: the episode in which we watch the movie Lion and I full on bawl in a room full of people), but I will no longer be so hard on myself. I was not fully equipped to deal with such grief at this point in my very short life. I am doing the only thing I know how to. I am doing the only thing I can think of to.
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"If you're travelling, to the North Country Fair,
where the winds hit heavy, on the borderline."