Of Tigers and Feathers – Day 84

There was a line of girls waiting for the elevator when I got back to the dorms this evening. The elevator doors closed on me as I walked in. The resulting red mark has yet to fade.

No one said anything. Not sorry for not holding the elevator doors. Not a single query of are you okay? Not a single sound.

It seems oddly symbolic, very apropos for everything that’s happened.

Invisible and yet still despised.

The danger of being whisper-thin glass is that when I hold on too tightly, the broken shards shred the softest parts of me.
The burgeoning scream coils in my throat and echoes in my ears, every beat of my heart a silent cry.

Why do I fall in love with unavailable people? What are these experiences meant to teach me? What am I meant to learn from these repetitions?

Being single has been especially hard these last few weeks. I feel like there’s no place to hide, no place to crawl into, and my skin isn’t large enough to contain all the grief and frenzied anxiety. I feel like I’m no one’s priority and I’ve had to remind myself to take a deep breath and remember that being in a relationship doesn’t guarantee that I’m anyone’s priority.

You come into this world alone. In the end, you will leave this world alone. In your travels through the world, perhaps you will meet those of like minds and travel together for a while and perhaps you’ll meet bandits who take you for all you’re worth and then some.

Jack asked me yesterday how I was doing.

I thought it was a bit of a silly question as I’d just unloaded on him all the various ways in which my life was falling apart: my professor calling me out on the carpet in front of the entire class, the sea of red ink that was my mid-term, the comment “knowing this would be useful” on the section I’d left blank because I had no idea how to answer, a person I thought to call friend telling me they had nothing for me in my time of need, that same person essentially calling me fat and no wonder considering how I ate, classmates turning cool because I’m too intense, too weird, too too, still sick, still not breathing well, still stressed, my edits stalling because of the drunken landscape I find myself in, drowning in work, drowning in inadequacy, drowning drowning drowning. So near the edge that I’ve repeatedly thought about turning in a request to take the year off.

Instead of re-capping the endless pity party, I said that Maslow’s very basest level was getting met and nothing else.

But rather than that being another prompt for a pity party, I’m going to treat it as the pyramid base it is.
I’m safe, even if I don’t feel it. There’s no immediate danger.
I’m fed. Well fed. I have fuel to burn.
I’m clothed.
I’ve ways of getting around to the places I need to go.
I’m housed. Very nicely, in fact, so I can hide if I need to.
I technically have the means to do what I wish, to build upon what I have.

It is the waning moon.
I banish the small evils that prey upon my mind.
I release those who do not love me.
I reverse the wounds I carry into wellsprings of insight.

I banish the petty evils that lurk in my soul.
I release wishes for what I cannot have.
I reverse the negativity placed at my door into mirrors of deepest obsidian.

I banish the sad evils that bedevil my spirit.
I release hopes into the wind to hope some more.
I reverse the burdens on my shoulders into blessings from without.

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