talitha cumi

dear,

I keep scrolling through the photos and posts people are putting on your remembrance group. I thought it’d be easier now, but maybe I should have muted it.

Keep reading

I wake up and it’s still night. I close my eyes and it’s still night. My ears are ringing the endless drone of sounds I cannot identify.

I think about the fact I used to dream with wide eyed wonder at what I do now. The dreamy greys, the clarity of my glasses stained a pink hue. I used to watch them juggle lines and bags and needles and numbers and think - I want to be that smart one day. 

I want to help bring that lifeless body to life again.

I did not know I would feel like I’m exchanging mine for theirs. I did not know that playing God would feel so very much like trying to keep time engraved into the palms of these hands. I was not prepared for the level of selfishness and self preservation that I feel. That I have felt. That I have not let go of since.

I don’t feel in the same ways that I used to. There is a sense of nothingness that I’ve shut myself out to while the hallways stretch long, while knocking on the closed doors. The drop in my gut does not stop me from bracing myself as they call the colors overhead, and bodies shove me aside to save one.

This heart of mine beats, but it’s pumping a blue that I’m unfamiliar with.

The 8 o’clock throne is the one inside of my frozen car, as my stare drills a hole through the windshield, hoping for the frigidness to find fear in the midst of whatever is coming. Instead, I find that the ice melts outside but the tears are still frozen in the corners of my eyes, the heart still being pumped by two hands on a bed, ribs cracking, voices calling out, air being breathed into lungs that are too cold to expand.

This body doesn’t know how to cry out anymore but it cries in the embrace of “I am with you through this valley too.” Some days, the hues are not just the swirling navy of night but the light breaking at dawn.

And other days, the hues are as endless as the obsidian eyes that meet mine as they thrash and kick and spit. It cries out to the echo of a voice unfamiliar, the voice of a million bodies and a million hands, the chest sinking into the deepness of nothingness, and the hands that grab at it feel nothing at all.

ttaechi:

same tae same 

aidashakur:

Is anyone else in a weird state of mind right now ? Like everything is fine but everything’s not fine

(via conasawa)