- Clarice Lispector, from The Complete Short Stories; “Obsession,”
(via violentwavesofemotion)

- Virginia Woolf, from “The Voyage Out,” (via violentwavesofemotion)

I have ripped my wrists apart trying to find the solution, some way of peace, of stillness, of silence, but they didn’t bleed while I breathed. They didn’t bleed, but I breathed, and stitches don’t hold in oxygen, but they mean that there’s something in you still worth saving.

my dreams are the last place left where i think i still love you.

Ma tells me that priests are God’s representatives here on earth,

that if I believe in God, I must believe in those He chose to serve him.

I must trust His power. I must trust the faith and our Church.

I must trust Fathers, because Fathers are God’s helpers. Fathers are here to help us.

Ma tells me that mass is important, and being volunteered to lend Father a hand

is a blessing. It’s an opportunity. It means having a better chance at

reaching Heaven. She smiles when Father bends down to give me a hug after mass.

He pats my head when he tells Ma that I am always welcome to help him again.

Ma tells me that she’s lucky to have me. The kids in my neighborhood are always

getting into trouble. She hears their parents complaining all the time. She

kisses me on the forehead and tells me that she hopes I’m behaved around Father.

I know I am. He always places a hand on my knee whenever he tells me.

Ma tells me that I’m getting quiet. She laughs and asks if being in Church

all the time has taught me the gift of silence. She says that praying with Father thrice

a week must be a relaxing experience. I don’t tell her I don’t really think it is,

but Father always asks me not to make a sound, so she must be right.

Ma tells me that next time, I shouldn’t come home so late. She says that

it’s not safe for me to walk home alone in the dark. I tell her that I’m fine, but she

says she still worries. I don’t know how I can tell Father this. He says that the

longer I stay with him, the less time I will need to suffer in Purgatory.

Ma tells me that I shouldn’t be staying up so late. She says that she can see the light

shining under my door when she goes to the bathroom in the middle of the night.

She says it’s why I always look so tired and pale. I tell her I’m sorry and I’ll try better.

I can’t tell her that I can’t fall asleep without a light on anymore.

Ma tells me that I should save water and take quicker showers. She says that

I need to remember to save money, but she’s happy she doesn’t

need to remind me to stay clean like most kids. Father tells me that I’m clean

because his touch is cleansing, but I always feel dirtier whenever he’s finished.

Ma tells me that I’m losing weight. Father has been allowing me to go home earlier,

but she’s still worrying about me. Father told me that our secret is penance, and if I

tell anyone, I could burn in Hell. I know this, but I still don’t feel worthy

for Heaven. I don’t know how to tell Ma. I don’t want to burn in Hell.

i. how did it feel to come alive and know that you were only derived? that every time he looked at you, he could only ever see his own bones, his own flesh? how did it feel to know you were made to be a reflection of someone else?

ii. did he ever really love you? did he ever love you more than the way you loved him back? or did he only really love the idea of you? that you were made just for him—made for him to love? could you ever bring yourself to ask him if he still would have loved you if you weren’t the only two people in the world? were you afraid to ask because you felt like all he’d ever say was “you were made to be perfect for me”? as if that answered everything. as if you were the answer to everything. you love him, but you don’t know how much of this love is from having no one else to give it to, or because you were created for it.

iii. did you ever wonder why you couldn’t be as content as he was? did you ever resent him for being the first created? did you ever imagine what it would have been like if you had been the only one? if you had been made before him? do you think you would have given in to the loneliness the way he did?

iv. you never asked for any of it, but you were forced to bear the consequences as if you had. you never asked to be made, but you were expected to be grateful. you apologized for the apple, but all you ever wanted to be was equal. all you ever wanted were for the questions to stop. you’d never told anyone that you doubted long before you took the bite. did it hurt to be blamed? did you cry when you were locked out of the gates? you may have been second to be made, but you were the first to be human.

v. you bore the weight of committing the first mistake. you bore the weight of committing a mistake that anyone in your place could have made. did you ever lie awake and wonder if you had been set up for pain? if it was all a part of the plan, a part of your role to be the first mother, then you may as well have been.

vi. did you ever want to forget the garden? forget that you were faulted for doing what you didn’t know you had been destined to do? were you angry? did it hurt to feel that kind of fire burning inside of you for the first time? did it hurt to know that your children were to be born sinners because you could not be forgiven the way father will expect them to? did you hope they’d someday understand that it wasn’t all your fault?

vii. it was not your fault, and i have not forgotten this.

viii. most don’t remember and more will forget, but i have not forgotten this.

ix. you are more than just his wife. you are more than just a conversation with a liar. you are more than just a single bite.

x. i have not forgotten you.

-

Fortesa Latifi -

iPhone

from We Were Young available here

(via madgirlf)

madgirlf:

madgirlf:

happy world poetry day, friends! if you want to celebrate, grab a copy of my books from Amazon. We Were Young & No Matter the Time are available now <3

happy poetry month 😍📚😘