i am an ocean that nothing floats on.
her mother always told her that each part of her body was capable of becoming something hard and cold, something that a military man could arm himself with and leave a trail of destruction. There was an anchor in the pit of her stomach, resting on the bottom of a black and white ocean, carelessly tossed in by a reckless boy with matching eyes. it leads her to somewhere she has never been. It sinks her to ocean floor and leaves her waiting for the waves to stir her back to the surface.she learned about space, and the gaps that leave people feeling empty and lonely, and throughout the years of her youth, everything related back to the ocean residing inside her chest cavity which on the coldest and emptiest nights she could feel thrash and peak and cause her to choke and spit it up in violent convulsions. she learned that her stomach acids were responsible for the curve of her bones and the shapes of the shadows they made in sunlight. as her years ticked upwards the shadows grew longer and summer skin become winter flesh and the soft grew callosed and the light turned dark and she knew that his emptiness was much worse than her own, but he would never show such weakness as to admit loneliness in his solidarity.
she learned the pains of womanly, of her insides being carved out by the gods, burning reds falling into water and leaving her feeling used and hollowed out. she learned of the collisions of men and her own delicate bones with disregard for anything but their own right of passage. of developed manliness pushed inside her young womanhood and how he left her even more empty than the gods did after spooning her insides out with disregard. she would spend nights curled in a cotton embrace with pain striking below bellybutton and leaving her fetus curled with her knees tucked beneath her chin. she told her mother that she wanted her insides back, and she wants her precious to stop aching. mother simply told her that she's in mans hands now, and they will do as they please.
her body grew and warped and swelled to twice its natural where her heart lied. they protruded from her chest, and made her spine curve and made her body change into something with hips and more ways for him to use her. she knew these mountains to be rotten things, but decided to think of them as padding, protecting the one part of her that would never become anything short of far too delicate and easily frightened. but as rough hands cupped them and tongues grazed them she feared that something would sink to the depth of her cavity and leave dirty fingerprints on the one part of her being that wasn't stained with the dirtiness of man, and their sandpaper anatomy. her insides were carved at each turn of the moon the pain never ceased, and his manliness never stopped stealing away so much more than just membranes.
as seasons changed she learned her skin was the weakest part of her with its transparency people could see right through to her steel bones and pick her apart with precision. her ribcage was protruding and it had two extra ribs that she always loathed but her mother told her were to hold her extra large heart. however, large is never a good word, and she realised that it just meant it had a larger capacity to hold burdens and regrets. it weighed her down like thick black clouds, hanging above her threatening to unleash the greatest flood of the century right on top of her, but they never do. Her extra large heart held all the sorrow that her eyes couldn't without spilling over and leaking down her cheeks, which he told her made her ugly and would slap colour back into her sodden face.
her milky shoulders were scattered with droplets from the oceans that were around the world that was placed upon her and she secretly prayed for some semblance of world war three the bombs would drop on the un expecting soil below and the tremor of the aftershock would rattle her bones dusty. her anatomy wasn't hardening like mother always told her, they were barely strong enough to handle the strength of his words or the stomach curling pain that was brewing in the depths of her womanhood. night wrapped her no longer youthful skin, and left it dimpled as it continued to warp and change for the second time, mountains reaching higher, and valleys growing deeper.
she grew wiser and the lines in her skin were etched in harder, far too heavy for her gossamer skin. but she grew older and the pains of womanly were never quite as torturous as she remembered from her youth. the gods grew kinder and the storm behind her belly button grew quieter, and less monstrous. her bones were no longer carved out of what felt like styro foam, they grew darker and stronger and she learned that the ocean isn't always for drowning in, and that salt water is the cure all, sweat tears and the rolling ocean.
she learnt of loss, and how people aren't permanent fixtures in our lives and sometimes they crumble away and you miss them. they leave prints inside you, little maps of the travels and the journeys that you took together, or the ones that never happened and when something happens they hang on the walls of your hearts and leave it so heavy that every single beat leaves you whispering and worrying that your bones cannot handle this. you can feel the heels of your feet being grabbed at by someone you no longer recognise, or something you fear but you just can't shake them no matter how much you jerk and twitch in your sleep, or how loud you scream when you awake. she learned of unrequited loves and how you cannot force something to love you, and that maybe our hearts are like puzzle pieces and you can jam them and force them to fit but they won't ever be the right one, and you will always know this. then they become someone you lost and the cycle of heartbreak and loneliness is a vicious and seemingly never ending cycle.
she learned of cures and remedies and how sometimes, just sometimes her mother was right, and good warm hearted cup of tea can sooth more than just a sore throat. it can seep into your core and warm you from the inside out, as bad things and horrible feelings simply cannot live in anything less than rainy, miserable, and greygreygrey. that we all have a little bucket inside us, and
she learned of mistakes, and of how sometimes all the decisions you makes will just seem wrong, letting someone go will never seen right in that moment, but someday it might, and you just have to hope that it will work out like that. she learnt of blind faith and having no idea where this stupid life seems to be carrying you but hoping that the pain and the heaviness of your heart will lead you to somewhere of someone that will make it better, even if just temporarily. she learned that all the plans you make are tiny prayers to father time, asking him for some kindness, five minutes more or in some cases to have it all stop and go away. sometimes it just feels like your whole life is some kind of joke, it doesn't matter which step you take, something will go wrong and it will all blow up in your fucking face. just like it did every other single time before hand.
that some people get desperate and wish for unspeakable things because someone is the sky hasn't been kind to them and their bones are grey and it all hurts too much for them to stand any more. some you can help. but some are too far sunken into the darkness and the shadows to see you, locked behind a door that will never open again. sometimes there aren't second chances and sometimes the end is just that, the end. no encore, so sequels or chance to relive it and do it all again. its made of 'should've's and 'could've's and hopeless wishes to someone that you start to think simply isn't listening. its missing someone so much your bones ache, and you think that if you sleep too long they'll turn to dust from the immense pressure being forced upon them from all the black and darkness that seems to be attracted to you, like a gigantic sad magnet, attracting more sadness and darkness until you think that your insides are just shadows and nothing can actually help you anymore. some people slam all the door behind them, jamming, jarring them so that no-one can ever reach them again, and they can't even hear us all on the other side screaming their names begging them to open the doors and let us all back in. sometimes ships sail, and tides roll in directions that differ to our own and we can try and brave the cold, stiff waves to get to wherever they are, wherever their heading, but the human body is weak and the fickle and we would more than likely get tired half way and give in to the mountains of waterwalls. we all learn about fighting losing battles and breaking your own heart as you try to capture someone else's and of nights spent curled up cradling a blackened and burnt heart. she learnt of never wanting to fall in love again. vowing that she was done its not worth it anymore.
she leant the hollowness and the lack of breath that you can never put into words. the cold when you walk into a room that it stuffed to the rafters with memories that should warm you, but leave you icy to the core and your lips quivering so subtly to everyone around you, but to you feels like a earthquake erupting across them. each crack, dip, chasm in the pink is just another tremor that shook you breathless. our bodies are maps that stain and dent and leaves a trail for you to trace years to come and remember how your bones are the weakest fucking things ever and you really shouldn't trust them. we certainly shouldn't entrust them with our whole entire being.
its stupid when you stop and think about it. she learnt of wood limbed boxes and leaving part of yourself with them underneath the soft earth. its throwing yourself to the ground and wishing that something anything could bring them back for three more breaths so you could say those things that you never got to say inbetween the useless day to day conversations that fill up the time we spend with everyone cause no-one ever wants to think about death or decay or that one day we'll have to bury our favourite people and that's the final goodbye, that nothing can ever come back from. its almost drowing yourself in tears to the point that your eyes are red and swollen and you can barely see through the salt water thats stinging your eyes. its having waterfall eyes and desert mouth and twig limbs and being hollowed out inside and feeling like your not even slightly human but at the same time way too human and wishing that you were something anything else. surely nothing else has to feel this kind of doubled over on yourself searing blind pain. that leaves you shaking like a leaf
and about as strong as one. one good gust of wind and your bones are reduced to powdery ash, just like they are when they're carried away to that one building in the furthest corner hidden behind the oldest and saddest headstones.
she learned that sometimes the whole world seems to revolve around that one person. they are stuck in your head and no matter how you try, you can't ever dislodge them. never. everything seems to be a great big long letter to them, despite the facts that they may [or more like will] never read it, or even know about it for that matter. you can feel yourself being stretched between where you are, and where they are even if it's just around the corner it still feels like they're half way around the world, they might as well be for the chance of ever seeing them and spilling out your heart at their feet and hoping they don't shoot you down.
she learned that when they shoot you down, you want to shoot yourself, and that it's not nice to think about your heart slowing and you start to sink into this pit, and sometimes you think you're stuck and you can't crawl out. you don't have the strength to fight anything anymore and the thought of having to stand up and pretend you still have a spine just isn't worth it. wallowing in self pity is a common pastime for most normal self loathing humans, even if most never admit it.
she learnt the taste of death, and how it feels to have a whole bottle of little white pills resting in the pit of your stomach like a thousand lead anchors, feeling your heart slow and your vision blur and finally the feeling of gravity overwhelm you and you falling to the ground helplessly with the most sickening thud. its knowing that you just might escape whatever you're running from and knowing you might just outrun it and collapse into deaths arms like a welcome friend rather than something that you know you should fear.
she learned that some people are more than you can ever handle, that they're 50 degrees hotter than your very core, and you find yourself burning up whenever they're near. but this is in the best way possible. that some people leave your stomach feeling seasick and your vision wonky and with a sense that your heart is far too excited over something that your brain isn't able to process entirely. its not exactly logical. some people leave us with our throats dry despite the rivers and oceans and seas of words we want them to hear, telling them how they make our chemicals go haywire and bubble over and constrict blood flow to some areas, and rush, flood, pool straight to others. some people leave us ungraceful and undignified and nothing more than animal instincts and excessive heavy breathing. some people just make us sweat. some people are just fucking beautiful in more ways than you can begin to list, or understand and they just leave you with your tongue parched and fumbling for words that don't even begin to start to touch what they are to you. what they do to you.
when she ticked past her single digits, she learned that her body was a weapon like her mother once told her, she was a compilation of parts, stitched and joined together, mountains and valleys, kind of like a house. some parts are kept clean and presentable, other parts are hidden deep inside never seen by the light, and there are ghosts that you can't ever quite shake, heels being grabbed at, and hearts being squeezed by unseen hands. the ocean she called her own that swirled in her stomach was aching for something other than her own air, the anchor had been dissolved or swallowed by something inside her and she needed to float on to somewhere else, someone else.
wanderlust they called it, and she was instantly drawn to this both in form and meaning. she felt it in her very core, a calling to something that was far from wherever she was, her bones were filed with saltwater, but they longed for the dry deserts of the far east. her eyes were the most mundane of blues and she ached to fall for a man with exotic green or something more than the average things she was so used to. she wanted to walk down streets that she'd never seen before and sit in a cafe surrounded by people she's never met before, and may never see again. she wanted to free fall into new water and feel the bubbles hit her feet as thrashes and spins and makes waves that make mountains around her skin. she wants to see the contrast of her ashen skin against the farthest ocean during a storm, walking in with nothing weighing her down, knowing that she may not walk out of this. she wants to know that she is fragile and she is weak but she in so strong. the strongest thing ever created on this god damned earth. she is more than just skin and bones and pathetic emotions that complicate every single fucking thing. she wants to feel the air leave her lungs as everything rushes past and she wants to collapse on the ground and watch her life flick by her eyes like a slide show full of the places she's travelled and the men she's traversed.
she learnt of how sometimes you can cling on to something with all you have, and it will still just slip through the cracks while you're looking the other way. sometimes people change and you don't change with them and suddenly you've woken up in a bed next to someone you don't even know anymore. sometimes time rushes past so quickly you didn't notice them slip away from you into something or someone else and you've just been standing in the same place the entire time. and you start to wonder what else have you missed while your head was up in those big old fluffy white clouds. that you've strung together word and belted out the bitter songs and cried a mother fucking ocean like so many have told you to do, and you still don't feel any better. it still hurts and they're still gone and they're still not coming back. sometimes it's just better to leave and move on. pieces won't always be put nicely back into place, and life isn't a sitcom, not everything is nicely packaged up
she learned about crying, and how it can solve everything.
she learned of how sometimes people are just cruel, and sometimes even if you spill your heart on the floor to someone who you know was chasing it for so long, they won't accept it and shrug it off, like it never even mattered. sometimes people get caught up in their own little selfishness that they don't care if someone else in about to choke in the middle of a self made ocean of bluegh. sometimes the only words you can speak aren't really words at all, just syllables thrown together in a rough way to try and convey something that English just cannot.
his heart was the biggest and emptiest part of him, his father always telling him that his job wasn't to love, or nurture simply 'spread his genes' for the future generations. find a woman with wide hips and curved bones, hearts simply don't play a part in any of this. emotions are for the weak. There was a sea in his stomach that left his bones grey and bleak and he wondered if he was meant to feel like this. it his sex was his sentence for something he didn't recall doing, something from yesteryear or the father of his father or something ridiculous hidden behind the guise of 'tradition'. reckless hearted girls with large deer eyes made him into the man his father told him he'd become. he felt like a monster with tar fingers and filthy words, wanting to expose flesh and run hands along and manhood inside to the tippy top of womanhoods.
he would learn the guilt of manly, of hair sprouting and throats become filled with gravel, making boyhood voices harsh and easier to get their own way by scaring lighthearted girls. he learned of soft flesh and delicate bones and the way she would squirm under him and how powerful he could be and hold her down with large hands over easily restrained wrists. carving the inside of her with developed manliness, like a god making her insides burn red and white, leaving her fetus curled and whimpering like child. he asked his father if he was monster, devil, demon - father said that you are a weapon and woman is war, you are to take her and create something from her before she sinks into madness and destroys herself. you are soldier and you must do your duty.
his body continued to warp bulging and tightening, transforming from something small and innocent into something he didn't recognise as himself. but father told him that he was never allowed to show weakness, then woman would take advantage and strike and attack and bring the world down upon him. as she carries world on her shoulders, and life inside her and is more powerful than you will ever notice. his fingers longed to graze gently, not to grope as drag her supple flesh. but such things are not to be heard of and he pushed such thoughts out his head, as his head was meant to be hollow, and think only with below the waist.
when he finally escaped the town for a single afternoon, after reaching an age where his skin finally thickened enough to no longer fear his father, and the sting of his heart simply became too much to bare.
She felt madnesses grip when the winters came of her 20th birthday, the oceans tides had changed and moved and left her bones brittle in some places, like her fingers that couldn't hold the weight of any words she wished to spin. However, her hip bones and her ribcage were reinforced with thick white coating and she knew she wouldn't be able to break her heart any more, even she had wished too.