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This is me talking about it.

I saw someone die last night.

I was meeting a former professor in Manhattan, and took the M train in from Brooklyn. I was early and engrossed in a book, so I decided to sit down on a bench by the platform rather than brave the cold only to sit barside for another half an hour. Two trains came. The second was a J. 

A woman had just missed it. She ran up the stairs and onto the platform, only nearly just missing the doors closing. She banged on the doors, pissed. A cop was on the platform, rushing towards her, saying, “Ma’am, please.” I looked up from where I was sitting to see the commotion. The train started to leave.

She whipped around, and either momentum got to her or she lost her balance, but she fell. 

I saw everything. 

It all happened so fast. 

She fell. Another cop came out of nowhere as well as another gentleman, and they rushed towards her, arms outstretched, trying to get to her. Her leg got pulled between the train car and the platform. I saw her face.

I saw everything

And then it was over. 

I was up by then, pulling at my jacket, scratching at skin, hyperventilating, hysterical, screaming, screaming, screaming until I tried to move and realized I was fainting and collapsed onto a wall, screaming, screaming, screaming until I realized I wasn’t making a sound at all. I never was. I was only just sobbing. 

It was like nobody else saw it except for myself and the cops and the gentleman who tried. There were still people meandering on the platform, 100 feet away, unbothered. A family with a small child tried coming over to stand on that side of the platform and the cops yelled, “HAVE SOME RESPECT, A WOMAN LOST HER LIFE,” and that confirmed that whatever hope I was holding out for was stupid. A woman saw me on the ground and asked me if I was okay and then shot a look over at the tracks. She ran. 

I ran out of the station hysterical. I called my boyfriend, hysterical. I took a cab home, numb. 

I spent so much time that night crying, thinking about her. I remember what she was wearing. I remember everything. I think about her family, where she was going, what she means to a crowd of people who love her. Who loved her. 

I tried to get my mind off it, watch a movie, change the conversation, talk about anything else, stall going to bed, but as soon as it was just me and my thoughts, I became undone. I had 3 nightmares that night, and every time I woke up, I checked to see if my boyfriend was still breathing. 

I don’t know how to wipe clean these images. I’m trying, but I can’t. I just keep thinking about her. I keep screaming.

I stared at the crack between the subway car and the platform multiple times today. My brain is stuck on replay.

People keep telling me to talk to someone. I don’t know who. I don’t know how to get over this. I don’t know if I’ll ever. 

I watched someone die last night. Their last moments, I saw it. Her face, her eyes, the entire thing. I saw it. I want to unsee it. I want so desperately to stop screaming.

i’ll get over it, eventually.

Mreeuh told me last year while reading my birth chart that I was addicted to sadness. We were at the West 4th Street stop, and I stopped walking when she said it. I felt so exposed I almost slapped her. We spent a good 20 minutes after that with me ricocheted into silence, staring blankly into a perfect summer sunset while she told me she bet all writers, all artists probably had the same affliction. Half serious, half cajoling me out of my own head. 

I couldn’t help but think of Rainer Marie Rilke’s words in Letters To A Young Poet, in which he advised not to write about love, because there are plenty of people who already do it and do it better than you ever could. He said to write about something new, something unique. 

I found my niche in writing, I suppose. I found my uniqueness. 

What comes first, the chicken or the egg?

What comes first, the sadness or the story? 

a prayer for my former selves & the men who loved them


may your autonomy come first, may you forgive those who have misled you, may you cherish those who tell you the truth about yourself, may you never know the lonely bed of wasted time, may your personality never attempt suicide by lowering its standards, may you never succumb to the death wish of vapid companionship, may you find your future self in every lover, may you always remain ready to leave, may your improvement and self-mastery come before all else, may you never obligate yourself to another’s validation, may you never worship your partner, may your love and your religion never betray each other, may you take pride in your company, may you remain willing to put your pride aside for your company, may your connections be a result of your pre-existing fulfillment and not a source, may your company and solitude enrich each other, may each lover introduce you to new methods of creation, may you recognize when you are being groomed for abuse, may you remember to provide everything you seek, may you never be seduced by politicians who seek your validation before considering your emotional welfare, may you never breach respectful distances before allowing another to make an informed decision, may your experiences improve your language and vice versa, may you never take it personally when another person’s requirements do not involve you, may you never apologize for your distances, may you seek gratification in the rarity of a person and not in the title they assign us, may you transcend the need for reciprocity, may you forge invincibility by effectively communicating your pain, may you nurture yourself through nurturing others who know what they have when they have you, may you commit yourself to the magic of union by granting your lover’s wishes, may you remain free from shame by embracing the truth in all experiences, may your freedom set your lovers free, may your love for each person make them special and unique, may your lovers never retrospectively resemble each other in their patterns of disappointment, may you submit yourself to the paradoxical spontaneity of contradictory feelings, may you find liberation in complete submission, may you always choose wisely and find a teacher and friend in every lover, may you never overdraft your emotional account to fall for poetic advertisements for ego-stroking, may you go all out for the sake of romance and let the chip fall where they may, may you never expire for unrequited love, may nothing ever be too good to be true, may your truth be best possible thing, may you never compromise your vulnerabilities to protect another’s guilt, may you never insult your own intelligence with meaningless and convenient sex, may you embrace your urges as a divine jolt of the senses, may you never be demonized for your arousal, may you never apply masks lest you attract more masks, may your connections be evidence of your revolutionary drive for self-autonomy, may your heart be the compass, may you find comfort and thrill in both home and vacation, may you never know a place where love is not, may you never know a place where love is not, may you never know a place where love is not…

9:30 freewrite


her spine curved like a question next to his body, still warm and sticky sweet, while her eyes shot holes in the night sky. behind her, isolated to peripheral vision, he counted vertebrae and dreamed about tracing the soft curve of her belly, and after a few moments, whispered softly, quietly, like a secret, 

“darling, those pursed lips of yours, don’t they ache from all the strain?”

and somehow, those words, they cascaded through her hair, tickled her outline, untangled her limbs, bit at her body until she recoiled into him, suddenly, urgently, with a short, staccato breath 

and for a moment, there they were, paired knees like quotations of the same phrase until she slowly, finally, turned and let the moonlight study her back.