GIRL SPEAKS: selective mutism

i can pin point when it all started, when i just stopped talking, opting to bottle every emotion i had and letting the heaviness (the burden of carrying this weight) rot me from the insides. it was memorial day weekend of 2019, my return home after graduating from college and learning to navigate (or at least trying to) a long-distance relationship with my boyfriend after living with him for months.

i hate change. maybe thats obvious at this point. too much change, and i crack completely (orchid children or whatever they call it, the fragile ones prone to breaking).

i hated living in houston for pretty much the entire time that i was there for college, retreating back to my hometown the second i finished my last in-person final, spirit flights purchased on impulse out of the need to be home.

you changed that. my last year in houston was by far my favorite, and its all thanks to you. i owe you for that, for making the best year of my houston/college experience, for being part of my story; i cherish those days when things between us were just easy, light and i just really fucking loved you.

i was happy. maybe the happiest id ever been.

i dont even know if im capable of that happiness anymore.

and on my final year, i found myself struggling to let go of that dirty, old houston apartment, even though the apartment has smelled like cat piss since we moved in and no amount of baking soda or professional cleaners and products had been able to successfully eliminate the atrocious scent. but that apartments important, monumental; because thats where we began, thats where our story started.

sometimes i wonder if those days are gone for good, that our lives together will ever feel as pivotal as it was back then and all i needed was you. and i wonder if we hold on to these memories too tightly, and were just lying to ourselves to try to make “us” work.

what changed between us? did we already reach our peak, and all thats destined is the inevitable fall?

i need clarity, so fucking badly (ive even reached out to my psychic, since all her predictions have come to pass and the universe refuses to offer me a sign).

and i cant stop thinking about when things went south with us, why i cant stop snapping at you lately, what happened between us to make conversations more scarce to the point of just pure silence. i cant stop being a bitch to you and i know im going to push you away, and maybe i already have.

i miss “us,” the old “us,” and i mourn that loss everyday as i continue to give you the silent treatment, plotting my escape to my parents house just for the sake of running away.

im shutting you out – i know i am. i just cant help it, imagining the worst case scenarios, that youll leave me because i dont think i make you happy.

maybe theres still a part of me that resents you for putting me through a long-distance relationship in the first place (through no fault of your own). youre here now; physically, i guess i am too but mentally, ive been checked out, engulfed in my own world, consuming thoughts.

you werent there when i needed you the most and maybe theres a part of me thats unable to forgive you for that. you werent there that night my 16 year-old maltese passed away, when i received that frenzied phone call from my parents while out to dinner with our friends. they said he wasnt able to hold his head up, and doesnt seem to be lucid, that were losing him.

you werent there when my mom told me my nanny/my third grandmother died due to surgery complications when i was in my last semester of college. my parents never fucking told me when it happened. conveniently my mom had to tell me this immediately after my dogs passing (great timing, mother).

it signaled an end of an era – the end of college, the end of childhood itself with the combined losses of my dog and my nanny, someone i had gone to visit each time i returned. the last time i saw her, i had a breakdown. maybe even then, i knew i would never see her again.

too much change, too many endings – so i stopped talking. i shut the world off, closing the blinds and surrounding myself with my thoughts. i kept (keep) everyone at a distance, and the shift was palpable.

these days it seems like anger is my primary reaction to everything, and i cant seem to find a balance in any aspect of my life; not with my boyfriend, not with my friends, not within myself.

“im gonna tell you how it is, dont give a shit about how you feel.”

im trying to find my voice again, to have the ownership and power of my own words. i need to be in control of my life again.

“look me right inside my eyes and you tell me the truth.”

what exactly do you even see anymore?

emptiness and sadness built on resentment, selective mutism, and the refusal to forgive, but maybe a slight glimmer of hope (the light at the end of the tunnel). thats what youll see.

GFY, fleur

GIRL SPEAKS: mememe (do i sound like a joke when im talking to you?)

i hate forced positivity. its so toxic and fake, plastering on a smile for the sake of someone elses wellbeing even though your silent wounds ache.

its always about everyone else, isnt it? everyone else – anyone else but me. each day since entering 27, i just seem to get more transparent. ill eventually become one with the background, vanishing into nothing. im trapped in a soundproof glass box thats my life, and i need an escape.

phantom pain – going unspoken about, untended to. were all hurting and no one gives a damn (especially if they dont know).

theres a part of me that stays silent because i dont believe that others deserve to know what im thinking at the core, how i feel about them, whether theyve done something to bother me to the point of these happenings living rentfree.

if i said all the things i want to say, id probably be left by everyone (and maybe its time to make my peace with that).

words bite – both mine and theirs. and “forgiveness” isnt an emotional attribute that im capable of, foreign to my vocabulary completely. if i dont forget, i cannot forgive.

but silence and unknowing – that might be worse to receive versus a confrontation. forever a guessing game, and whether one rude comment would push me over the edge and the silence that follows, thats up to their own interpretation.

so ill leave apology texts unread, issues unresolved for weeks while i simmer in my anger, boiling into hatred. silent pain on both parties, but at least im in control.

theres another part of me that holds everything in my heart because i truly believe they wouldnt give a fuck, that no one gives a rats ass about me and my fragile emotions.

ive befriended my pain, my misery. its a part of me, my secret to hold, my comfort to keep. ive learned to rely on it (the misery, and no one else). maybe once youve had enough practice – years, even – of playing the role of “ok,” you become the expert of hiding behind that mask.

i guess its such an easy game.

theres a weight, a heaviness that i cant get rid of because my mind keeps whispering to me that no one cares.

mememe – i cant help but wanting to make more conversations revolve around me. and i expect everyone around me to be psychic, dancing around my expectations and creating a me-centric world.

i thrive off attention.

the third part of me knows i have a delayed reaction to anger (and most other emotions) and i cant tell if my anger and dissatisfaction is justified or all in my head.

i dont really know me (in that case). whats real, whats fake – it all blends together and love immediately transforms into hate and sometimes back again, an endless cycle depending on how much they hear me.

maybe no one really knew me to begin with.

maybe youll never know anything about me.

GFY, fleur

GIRL SPEAKS: dark blue

does anyone else ever feel like a second class citizen in their own universe? as if those you chose to be your friends are always superior to you and you just exist in their realm for the sake of it.

ive always been the girl with a consistent friend group and a girl i call my twin that i met on tumblr who lives across the country; but ive also been the girl with the occasional new (and inconsistent) “best friend” popping into the picture, usually someone i just met and barely know but the we-must-must-must-hang-out somehow leads to something that vaguely resembles a friendship.

the foundations of these friendships (these temporary best friends) are built on loneliness and convenience. they usually end when i realize that i never intended for them to be my best friend in the first place, that i dont want to be like them or i just completely fucking hate their personality (after all, i already have a best friend, my twin).

these friendships, they never end well.

as for these unfortunate souls that sit in the “non-permanent” category, its usually infatuation on their part. the only reason id know that is because i know myself (and they dont know me) – i refuse to reach out, initiate or anything. at the same time i wouldnt say im shy; i guess some of us are just built more fragile (like porcelain dolls) and we just cant handle rejection, too arrogant to come off as desperate.

i keep these miserable people around even though i know are temporary (and that ill eventually reach a breaking point with them) all to soothe my injured ego, to make me feel superior in having a minion.

maybe im power hungry (or maybe im just a bitch).

maybe i dont get enough of that in my current friendships – the power-trip of having someone willing to bend backwards to please you, someone you can look down on and keep to make yourself feel better. the temporary friendships are never real, doomed to fail from the start.

its fucked up. im fucked up.

in the words of jacks mannequin, “have you ever been alone in a crowded room?”

its like everyones in on an inside joke that you just dont get, like i dont belong here (not in this friend group and not on this planet) and im just here for the convenience. and i think about whether theres too much history and mutual friends and acquaintances to just cut me out completely, as if im not worthy. i just exist among them, neither here nor there, a side character even in my own movie. existing but not participating, invisibility cloak and all with the “mute” button constantly on.

im ok – im always just ok.

“what could you possibly expect under this condition?”

at least when im here with you, the whole town feels less lonely, the water subsiding and im able to breathe; the chirps of my friends, conversations im not a part of, fading into the background and none of it fucking matters anyways.

“if youve ever been alone, youll know.”

and you do know – you know me better than i know myself and id be so completely lost without you. youve felt the same way in our universe, unheard and unseen.

so you know – and you see me, thats all that should matter.

GFY, fleur

GIRL SPEAKS: bitch is being a bitch

sometimes i wonder if i actively choose to make my life complicated or if im just complicated and i cant help it – its a part of me.

it seems like i cant stop aggravating people lately; whether intentional or not, i cant stop snipping at people, pulling away from the physical touch and acts of affection. maybe im too stubborn to admit that im not always right.

i guess you can call me a hypocrite – someone who constantly bitches, goes off for no reason in particular but cant handle being spoken to in a harsher tone of voice or yelled at (i retaliate or i crumble – fight or flight taking action).

i crumbled today.

my boyfriend takes the short end of the stick with my parents as a close second when it comes to my emotional outburts, my constant lashing out and fussiness, unwillingness to forgive and forget because i feel wronged (remember, im always the victim, at least in my eyes).

everyone keeps saying im too emotional.

what does it even mean to control your emotions?

i truly believe that im incapable of controlling my emotions (physically or emotionally) even with therapy, with benzos, with support and love.

sometimes i think my parents have started to love me less in the past few years because im a pain in the ass. even my boyfriend tells me that im wearing on him, with my constant chaos, explosive anger and uncompromising temperament. sometimes i feel like theyre obligated to love me, as if i were some chore on the list that needs to be dealt with.

my parents say their love is unconditional – but is it? theyll leave me one day and im terrified for that day.

and im scared my boyfriends going to get fed up and leave me, once he realizes im not worth the trouble – and i cant handle being alone. is it time to find other options in case he leaves me?

i dont think he can love me forever (people always leave).

when im mad, im fucking livid. and i want justice – for all the things wronged, things taken.

im toxic and i know it. i just cant help it.

i dont want to lose my relationship with my parents, but being scolded for having a voice, yelled at to “listen,” i cant handle it. i just left my parents home, still reeling, still angry despite all the shit theyre going through with my evil, deluded aunts (we can call them “thing 1” and “thing 2”; for what was supposed to be a relaxing staycation and an escape from my life as it is (i need to gain some clarity), it was a fucking disaster.

and im sorry to my parents, that i cant learn to shut the fuck up and i feel the need to interrupt because im tired of always listening, that theyre under a lot of stress unrelated to me but im selfish enough to just walk out anyway to prove that they can lose me if this trend continues.

and im sorry to my boyfriend, who i put down more than i want and i wear the passive aggression and use it against him. and when he snapped last weekend after bitch (me) was being a bitch, all i wanted was to escape to my parents home, a retreat to all thats familiar. i was so excited for this weekend.

but look how well that worked out? jokes on me.

and i wonder whether love can ever actually be unconditional, as i grind peoples gears and continually poke the bear to get some form of reaction.

i dont think anyone can love me unconditionally at this point. damaged goods and too many emotions and breakdowns – who wants trash?

GFY, fleur