I was in an emotionally abusive relationship,

but all of my friends don’t understand the extent.

I’d even agree I have minor culpability

for using the stock reply provided me by toxic masculinity:

“Oh dude, she’s crazy.”

Which means typically,

“She didn’t let me party and got mad she ditched her on Thanksgiving.”

But here reads,

“I’m not sure exactly, but something vaguely cluster B that left me feeling worthless with little self-esteem, and the realization I hadn’t actually dealt with anything emotionally which caused me to further sequester and was quite isolating, and there was also the time she threatened to use my nudes, but I don’t remember exactly what the hell I had to do to deserve the threat even as a ruse. Scarier part is sometimes I still think I deserve it. Even after she cheated at least two times, possibly more, but not like I’m trying to keep score.”

And probably, I don’t want to be seen as vulnerable or something

or maybe typing this out once was tiring enough and I don’t want to remember all of the stuff.

The weakness, the guilt, the shame.

I’m still embarrassed, and I didn’t do anything wrong. I still feel like I deserved it.


Count your blessings

Worst part about church weddings is the church part.

While listening to a celibate give advice about the holy institution of matrimony,

I find an old familiar feeling as I count the light and note their focus.

I sat for years counting the triangles on the ceiling of St. Jean Vianney

Twice a week until 15, Sunday and Wednesday

Once a week until 18, Sunday

There were over 400.

I still remember the pattern.

I remember the feeling

of counting

my personal rosary.

Moral Superposition

I read the other day

92% of people think

they’re much more moral

than most other people.

Do you think they just gloss over

all their minor transgressions

and minor suggestions

they received on how to be nicer?

All I know is I can’t monitor my tone,

and I should probably get better

at picking up the phone,

and I should definitely roll my eyes less.

So many little lessons

I’m so bad at implementation,

but at least now nightly water glasses

don’t crowd either of our nightstands.

I think I started this poem

as some form of self-validation

like thinking I’m worse

somehow makes me better.

At least I remember what

superposition is

and how it relates

to my conscience.

92% of the time,

I think I’m much worse than I am,

but I really can’t tell

if that puts me with 8% of people.

Accept exceptions except the exceptions to the accepting exceptions injunction

I need to write more


at least I think so

sometimes it’s hard to tell if this thing is helping me or focusing all my self

depricating tendencies

My new therepist says I’m passive

But I’m pretty sure he’s a moron who probably thinks I’m some sort of wimp

But I’m not


I actually hate most things; I guess that includes me if you make a whole list


But it’s okay, I guess

I just want someone to yell at

Someone who has to listen

Someone I pay to take it all in

I pay to absolve my own guilt

Maybe 700 last year wasn’t quite enough

Enough is always a short hand for more than you have

But I think I have what I need

Except I need to accept it.

Except needing to accept it,

I have what I need.

I need to accept that I have it and accept it’s glad to have me.

I guess I don’t have enough then

Classic human condition

Maybe I’ll laugh a little and then go to sleep