Trigger warning: The following work explores trauma through themes of violence, sexual content, self-harm, and other potentially triggering topics. Proceed with care.
You went to a retreat to get well
You went seeking
We were all under the same roof
Nowhere to hide
Your memories were scattered around the meadow
Little wooden puzzle pieces that strangers could grasp
Upon holding them, they could see and feel, and hear your memories
Perched on the top of a hill was a dollhouse for humans
A structure open and exposed
No walls or barriers to keep anyone out or in
The whole house was a doorway into your world
The house held the depths of your soul
The dark corners that you’ve kept locked away
Boxes labeled “take this one to the grave”
Moments that not even a fourth step has seen
But the house was not a house
All your vulnerabilities laid out for any to see
Their eyes widened as they noticed it sitting on the hilltop
They rushed to it like zombies to flesh
They ripped open the boxes and ripped open your insides
Guts exposed, doused in lemon juice and gasoline
Strike the match and throw it inside
Burns are less painful than this
Your ankles are tied by long waves of grass
You cannot stop them
They are eating you alive
One by one they sort through your memories, your heartbreak, your pain
They read them aloud and put them on a projector screen like a cult classic playing at the park theater
They offer feedback, criticisms, opinions, and words
You cannot defend yourself
You cannot argue
You cannot say a word
They tell you about yourself as if you know nothing
They gawk and they laugh
The TikTok stripper finds a dead flower
She holds it up for everyone to see
They gasp
She says, “you know what this means?”
You stare blankly
Your lips will not move
Sound gets trapped in your throat
Thoughts stuck in your head
A straight jacket of anxiety
“This means that you won’t marry him”
They all laugh
Finally a cry is let out
A whimper of pain
They roll their eyes
“She’ll do anything for attention”, your partner says
They laugh again
“Oh wait, that’s wrong. It’s the other way around. You see this thorn right here?” Says the girl with brain damage
She’s pointing at the dead flower’s stalk
“This means HE won’t marry you. It’s time to leave. It’s time to walk away. You’re nothing. You were never good enough anyway.”
Agony overcomes you
You scream “NO NO NO NO NO”
They all laugh
You are overtaken
Feeling drunk with cortisol
Heart about to explode
Shrouded in shadows
Everything goes dark
You come to at the doll house
When they notice the light return to your eyes, they ask you what you think about their insight
You stare at them perplexed
You cannot remember anything
It didn’t happen
You blacked out
“She probably got drunk again” says the girl with brain damage
“But I don’t remember drinking?
Did I?
How could I?”, you think.
You search for your partner
You need him to remind me of who you are
You need him to hold up the mirror like he always does
You need him to engulf you with his love
And squeeze you back to life
You peer out a dirty window
He is on an outdoor couch
Sandwiched between two women, both with your name
The TikTok Stripper on one side
The Modern Day Kahlo on the other
Both more beautiful than you
Both more talented than you
Both more interesting than you
Both better than you
“I knew it” you think
You are nothing
He has his arms around both
Grasping their hips
Laughing at their jokes
You look around the room
Everyone else is in the living room
All the couches are taken and you are stuck on the floor
Not even a blanket to keep you warm
Not even a pillow to soften the blow
Just you and the solid ground
But nothing feels solid about it
It feels like it could swallow you whole
Like your feet are hovering over a whirlpool about to be sucked in or spit out
They are all your friends
They were your friends
Your childhood best friend
Your sober sister
Your partner
Your acquaintance that shares your name and you admire from afar
Your friend from theater class
Your old colleague
Your rock band buddy
Your fifth grade friend’s brother
Your flighty tenant
They treat you either like you’re invisible or like they would rather gouge their eyes out than be in your presence
Indifference and distain
Disinterested and disgust
Bored and repulsed
There is no gray area
There is no kindness
Nothing is polite
This is your hell
Ignored
Ostracized
Spat on
And stoned
Not even your dog is happy to see you
You go to the bathroom to cry
When you emerge you are naked
Everyone turns and laughs
Your partner looks at you with pity
The artist says “No wonder you want me and not her”
The stripper snickers and quips “yeah with a body like that, no wonder the flower died”
They all laugh
You put on some clothes and emerge again
People are starting to get ready for bed
There’s a pile of sleeping bags in the spot that you’re supposed to sleep
Your childhood best friend and the stripper are laughing and enjoying themselves in your spot
They begin to make out and everyone watches with hungry eyes
They are so beautiful
You are not
They smile and moan
They love the taste of each other’s tongues
You sit down next to them and say “that looks fun”
They turn and look at you with downturned eyebrows and smirk
The stripper pushes you down and holds your head back
Your childhood friend perches herself behind you and hangs her head above yours
“That looks fun to you does it? You want to join in don’t you?”
Everyone laughs
She forces your mouth open and sticks her whole tongue in your mouth
Her mouth is barren, dry, sticky
Like a desert on an August day
You try to protest but she keeps choking it in further
You try to squirm away but the stripper is holding you down
You try to scream
You try to claw
You try to leave
You try to run away
But you can’t
The only option is to wake up
So that’s what you do
Good morning to you, too
by Thalia Graves
Purple Vanilla World, 2023
Purple Vanilla World 