The struggle is real

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The Struggle is Real (Go Fuck Yourself)

Kate Fletcher

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Table of Contents:

Fuck you, Sanity__________________________________________ 3 What We’ve Become______________________________________ 4 Behind Closed Eyes _______________________________________ 5 Why____________________________________________________ 6 Ode to a Loaf of Bread_____________________________________ 7 Hiding Behind ____________________________________________ 8 This Holiday _____________________________________________ 9 Twitter Poem _____________________________________________ 10 I’m Surviving It __________________________________________ 12 Server’s Lament __________________________________________ 14 I won’t. I can’t. ___________________________________________ 15 It Is I ___________________________________________________ 16 Ode to Love ______________________________________________ 17 It’s Too Late ______________________________________________ 18 Last Farewell _____________________________________________ 20 Yep. You’re Gone __________________________________________ 21

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Fuck you, Sanity I’m afraid my sanity has vanished. It’s been weeks, no months, no years since I’ve seen him, and I would not be surprised if he’s sitting in the squalor of some dingy bar, drinking a pint, and laughing as he watches my attempts of pulling together the remaining fragments of my life. I’m sprawled out, face-down here on the kitchen floor, contemplating what my life has become as I try not to allow myself to become hysterical while laughing at its shambled state, but yet there you are. It’s fine. I suppose I’ve made It this far without your help; I’m sure I can continue doing so.

Fuck you, sanity. Enjoy your beer.

I’ll do this alone.

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What We’ve Become candy corn sunrise illuminating landscapes beats blank stares at screens

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Behind Closed Eyes ‘Close your eyes’, you said Appreciate the stillness, the silence, The beauty in nothingness.

But that’s something I’ve lost the ability to do.

It’s like when I try to sleep at night, But my brain forgets how to shut down And is instantly filled with a flash flood Of every mistake I’ve ever made.

That’s what I was expecting when I closed my eyes, But it was a little different this time.

You came back through my head today.

It had been so long, I thought you were gone for good.

It’s funny. I really can’t even picture you anymore.

It’s only the feeling of your presence now.

How you kissed me by the river.

The way your family took me as their own.

And every cliché we convinced ourselves was love.

All the things I’ve spent so long forgetting Came pouring back into my mind.

But, something’s changed.

It’s as though I’m watching a movie, And I just happen to hold the leading role.

Nothing about these memories seems real to me, But, somewhere, buried in the crevices of my mind, I know our past was there; that I lived it.

I don’t want to go back; I don’t want to remember.

Life was easier when this was long forgotten.

I can’t handle the memory of you.

As soon as I open my eyes, I will no longer have to; until next time.

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Why Why do we fight?

Why do we scream?

Why do they cut?

Why do they bleed?

How can we watch as they get pushed to the ground?

How can we see this and not make a sound?

Do we think they won’t break?

Do we think they won’t cry?

Don’t we know we make the difference?

Who’s to blame when they take their own lives?

Can’t we all stand together and figure this out?

Can’t we realize love is what we’re all about?

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Ode to a Loaf of Bread You were once a full loaf of bread But I have devoured you Taking away parts of you That you needed to be complete.

I must take and use you to live But in doing so, You must disappear.

So, you are no longer This loaf of bread I once had.

And I must find another In order to keep myself alive.

I’m so sorry.

I realize what I’ve done.

I left you sitting there on top of my fridge.

Until I decide I want you, and then I just take.

And once you’re gone, You must be replaced.

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Hiding Behind

I’ve always had that thing that I could hide behind.

It started as books and pages, but has developed over time.

I still read and write and let my soul bleed from my pen.

It’s just so different now.

I’m afraid of what’s within.

I preface most my stories with a tale of wine or weed.

It’s the only way I can admit, the only way I’ll let you read.

If I let you know I wasn’t sober if I fake a laugh or smile, you’ll never know the reality behind this entertaining lifestyle.

So, I’ll keep on hiding and you’ll keep on laughing.

All the while, I’m the only one who knows what’s really happening.

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This Holiday It’s like my childhood.

Like coming home at the end of a long winters’ day.

It’s finding that sweet distraction while parents fight over money… and too many presents… and decorations.

Really, they just fight about whatever they can, but something about these months makes it worse.

It’s me, sitting in my room, trying to pull out any remaining flavor, trying to find contentment from my life in any way I can.

Why do I hate this season, this holiday?

Because, it’s me searching for a reason to be happy.

Blocking out the screaming, the yelling, the breaking glass.

It’s easy to hide behind the lies; You’re supposed to love this holiday season.

“Of course. Yes, I do” But, I don’t. I can’t.

Just fake a laugh, a wink, a grin, and they’ll never know how you dread this time of year.

It’s like my childhood all wrapped up in a bow, forcing itself into my head, begging to be forgotten, but forced to be remembered.

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Twitter Poem

Who did I think I was?

As I scan back through that old page, my heart aches; my brain pounds.

Don’t try to go find it now.

I’ve since erased all those memories.

I can’t believe I shared them in the first place.

Was I fake then?

Am I fake now?

Or did I just grow up?

I don’t know the answer to those, but I like to think it’s the latter.

I spent all my time forcing myself into a life I didn't want. but do I want my life now?

There really isn’t much of a difference.

I’m just not vocal about the same things, and I’ve traded out a few others.

Vodka became gin. beer and wine easier to consume.

Clothes and lips turned red instead of pink.

Alcohol took the place of shopping.

It still hides the pain.

I can’t believe I watched that show.

I can’t believe I was that person.

That typical girl you always hear of.

That was me then. I was liked more then.

But, I think I’m happier now.

My vices became exactly that.

Once they were the things which made my life seem fun and exciting.

Now, They are what I do when the day is rough, and I can’t take it.

Did I really change? or is this just who that person destined me to be?

Am I who I am because of who I was?

Probably.

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I don’t want to go back.

I want to forget that girl existed.

And, I had. but there will always be reminders.

She’s someone I can never shake.

I was her; she is me.

I can run from her, but I know that she’ll eventually catch up.

I want to hide her from the world, but I can’t keep her hidden from myself.

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I’m Surviving It I ate three entire meals today.

While that may not seem like much of an accomplishment to you, it is to me.

I ate three whole meals today without counting calories without calculating how many crunches I might have to do at the end of the day in order to make up for what my mind tries to convince myself is just a lack of self-control as I sit here, consuming every last crumb on my plate.

There was no looking in the mirror eyeing my supposedly nonexistent fat while I twist and contort my body in order to hide from myself what my eyes see in my reflection.

There was no looking back at old pictures, and reminiscing on the prominence of my ribs, wondering what I had to do to once again have that body I once hated.. that I once thought was overweight.

I may have avoided these recurring thoughts today, but that doesn’t mean they won’t come back, be it today, tomorrow, a year from now.

Just because I’m stronger today doesn’t mean I’m fixed.

It just means I’m getting better.

And when I say I’m fat, or when I say I want to lose weight, I’m not searching for attention I’m not asking for your solutions. especially when you laugh and say, “just don’t eat; that’s the fastest way to lose weight”. trust me: I know the ‘fastest ways’, and I know what not eating does to the body I’ve seen it.

I’ve lived it.

I’m surviving it.

So, don’t jokingly tell me what you know nothing of.

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Anorexia is not a fucking punchline.

It’s the way your mind distorts what your eyes see in the mirror.

It’s knowing you will never be good enough.

Not for others, but for yourself.

It’s perfecting the lie of, “I already ate”, but being terrified they will hear the sounds of your stomach contradicting those words.

Looking at myself, I know I’ve gained weight in the last few years, but I’ll be honest, it’s impossible for me to know whether that’s good or bad.

I’ll never know when the fat is real, and I’ll never know what it feels like to look in the mirror, content with the reflection staring back at me.

All I can hope is that I keep getting better, and one day I won’t have the need to be filled with such pride as I say, “I ate three meals today”.

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Server’s Lament

“Hi. How are we doing…”

“Water with lemon” Okay. That’s cool. Be an asshole, Oh, and while we’re on the topic….

Let me get a few other things off my chest.

No. I cannot give you free shit, not even if we happen to be out of the pasta you want, bitch.

No. I cannot use your expired coupon.

No. You do not “need” more breadsticks or salad.

Yes. if you bitch enough to my manager, she’ll do whatever you want.

No. that doesn’t make it okay.

No. I do not want to tell you my goddamn life story.

I want to serve you your damn food, and go on about my life.

Yes, old man, I am an English major.

NO. That doesn’t mean I’m just going to be a stripper, nor does it solicit a chuckle or your judgement.

And NO, you cannot be my sugar daddy.

Yes. you are supposed to tip.

Yes, I can tell whether or not you will when you sit down.

Yes, the level of your service will depend on how much of a Fucking asshole you are.

No. This is not my “career”.

So, quit acting like you’re better than me.

“Thank you so much for coming in! Have a nice day!”

Go fuck yourself.

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I won’t. I can’t I want a normal childhood.

I want to fall in love.

I want to be understood.

I want to be enough.

I want to cry less.

I want to smile more.

I want to fix my mess.

I want to walk out that door.

I want to fix my mistakes.

I want to run away.

I want to not be fake.

I want to want to stay.

But I won’t.

I can’t.

I’m far too dissolved.

I’m far too tired.

I’m far too unresolved.

I’m far too uninspired.

I just don’t care anymore.

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It Is I I creep through your window late at night and dance with the demons in your head.

You can run, but you’ll never escape me.

I’ll delve into the crevices, and fill you with dread.

As you lie awake, it is I who controls your mind.

Once I have overpowered you, then you will find how I can fill you with despair, and remove your light.

It doesn’t have to be with images dark and chilling It can be the anxieties tormenting your soul, Your brain, your life, your once merry views.

I pluck apart the pieces that once made you whole.

I’ll alter every thought. Your mind becomes my game.

You lose sight of you as I fill the crevices of your brain.

I want you to forget who you are, to lose all feeling.

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Ode to Love

Love, you used to be so prevalent, but no one knows you anymore.

We’ve forgotten who you are.

We’ve associated you with other things Sex, drugs, music, booze, but you used to mean so much more.

You once were what we said to people, to that special someone.

But now we can only think of ourselves.

Will we ever find you again?

Or are we cursed to walk this earth only feeling that strongly about those fleeting moments that are really only excuses.

We use those to rid ourselves of the pain, but if we could just find you again, Maybe we’d be alright again.

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It’s Too Late

As I walk through the door of my one-bedroom apartment, I cannot help but to hear the nothingness that encircles me.

I begin ripping up floor tiles and secret compartments where I’ve hidden several stashes of cash, often forgotten due to their lack of necessity.

I make my way into my bedroom, glancing into my closet at the countless tags still hanging from sleeves of unworn designer clothes I was once convinced I needed.

Yanking them from their hangers, I throw blouses, skirts, blazers, and anything else I am able to snatch in my hand and onto my California King sized bed.

The one no one had ever shared with me.

The one I would spend my remaining nights alone in, as I had all my others.

Forcing my body to walk out of my room, I make my way into the kitchen where I stare blankly at my cherry oak China cabinet, filled with porcelain white and blue dishes, gathering dust, seeing as I had never had enough company to bring using them into consideration.

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As I look at everything in this damn apartment, I sink into a ball here on the kitchen tile, eyes welling with tears for the first time in years.

I have spent all of my life making money, gathering anything I ever wanted, and I forgot to love anyone or anything‌. not even myself.

And, now it’s too late.

I suppose I could beat cancer, but what’s the point?

No one will care regardless, and someone will be happy to receive everything I spent my life working towards.

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Last Farewell As tears stream down my face, I think back on when we first met.

I never thought we would come to this, That you would be someone I’d regret.

You told me you had always loved me, So why am I the one in pain?

A six-year friendship, And now the thought of you fills me with disdain.

I guess the problem is that I just can’t understand.

You seemed to be so certain The day you took my hand.

If I had an answer, I think I’d be alright.

But you left without a single word.

You didn’t try to pick a fight.

If I saw you right now, I don’t even know what I’d say.

Even with an apology, I think you’d be too late.

I try to remember fondly.

But sometimes it just feels fake.

I let myself love you.

This was one farewell I never thought I’d make.

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Yep, You’re Gone I get distracted easily by shiny things Look! a butterfly