Collection 3 | Sydney Savage

Seems Small

In a world so big

I feel like a small dot

Going my way

That could be stepped on

at any moment;

Like a bug no one can see.

Do the bugs feel as big as us?

And we’re just giants creeping on them?

I’ve never thought about that perspective before

Until I identified who the giants were above me.

I think everyone has different giants.

Mine are losing people I love,

Dwelling on the past,

Getting rejected,

Failing, grieving, comparing

I think I’m worse off than a bug though,

Because even though the giant steps on me,

I don’t die.

I have to live with the pain;

And I know that’s what being human is about,

But what if I don’t like it,

What if I hate being the tiny dot,

What then?

Chocolate Chip Cookies

I remember smelling warm chocolate chip cookies in the oven

But I couldn’t eat any;

I knew if I ate one, then I wouldn’t be able to stop.

After I ate the cookies,

I ran in continuous circles until every calorie disappeared.

And after that, I fell,

But eight seconds later I got up

And I was proud,

The kind of proud where I can’t stop smiling.

I was a black hole that I made myself transform into,

And I wasn’t scared because

I knew that eventually I’d be

A tiny black hole, and people would like me more,

And guys would like me more,

And I would like me more,

That was why looking back,

I was convinced I was doing the right thing.

I don’t starve anymore,

but one hit of the chocolate,

And it’s like I’m there all over again.

I’m staring in the mirror,

Becoming the mirror.

I’m a shapeshifter.

And I see myself as the giant shard of glass on my wall.

My view of myself is like the backward letters that show up in the glass.

I destroyed the mirror one night.

I got angry and threw a rock at it,

And it’s still cracked.

Am I still the mirror?

I’ve just realized,

After smelling the chocolate,

That this is the first time I’ve ever

Acknowledged my anorexia.

And now I can’t help but wonder

why that is.

I'm Not Okay

I’d be okay

If you broke up with me

Cuz you didn’t like me anymore

Or cuz you had to move

Or cuz you got sick of me

Or cuz you cheated on me.

But I’m not okay

Cuz we both want each other

But can’t be together

And that’s not anything my mind can

register.

I miss you every day

I pass you every day;

It’s like fate is telling us we belong together

It’s painful

So f*cking painful.

I just wanna kiss you

Tell you about my day

Want you to yell at me for not knowing

Your fav music band.

I want to cuddle the night away.

I want you.

And I know you’re the one

I know we’ll be together again

Even if you don’t know it yet,

Just gotta be patient.

I’m not dating anyone else

You told me I was your last first kiss

And you don’t lie.

Virginity

Virginity is a double-edged sword:

You’re a prude if you haven’t done it,

You’re a slut if you have;

If you’re on either end of the spectrum,

a guy doesn’t want you.

It’s a lie no more true

than what TV shows

claim you should look like;

Crescent moon bodies

have no reflection in the water.

You get exiled either way.

You want to wait

for a nice guy who truly loves you,

and you’re the outcast

compared to those who hooked-up

Just to say they did it,

even though they regretted it.

But even them, if that’s how they choose to lose it,

who has the right to say there’s anything wrong

with their choice?

All this labeling,

What’s that say about all of us?

Society is a hoax.

Everyone follows it like

a mindless herd of cattle,

Like it’s a god

almost as godly as men who

sleep around every day,

praying on their own conquest,

Rising above the peasant men

who haven’t done the deed.

We put a white picket fence

around everything.

I’ve never been kissed,

and oh my god, next I know

I’m being served a death sentence.

It’s laughable for me,

because waiting for meaning is

fine by me,

And anyone who thinks otherwise

quite honestly

just doesn’t deserve my virginity,

Or me.

Stone Cold

I used to be a cry baby,

and now I’m a soldier.

I used to go on every suicide mission,

Wanting my body blown up

so my mind would be too,

But now I walk through the heavy

trenches

and it’s like I don’t feel anything,

like I can’t.

I can’t cry.

My eyes are forever dry,

a desert dying of dehydration,

I guess it’s a good thing?

It must mean I’m better.

I used to hear a sad song

and cry for hours

just looking at myself in the mirror,

and thinking about what other

people saw in the mirror.

But now the depressed piano

goes straight through my head,

I’m deaf.

I can’t feel anything.

I promised myself I wouldn’t be sad anymore,

trained myself to be grateful,

to distract myself with studies

and friends,

and I’m happy

Most of the time.

But one bad day,

I try to go to bed to cry it off

just for a little,

it’s supposed to be healthy,

but I stare at my wall,

blank

mute,

I’m stone cold.

Alternate Dimension

I’m stronger than last time

I know now that pain is temporary

I know it gets better,

I know not to “do anything stupid”

in the words of my mother

But what if I don’t want it to hurt at all?

What if I’m not willing to take turns with Joy and Sadness?

I’m in a depressive stage,

I have been since high school ended

I thought Depression would graduate with me,

But She’s with me again

This time it’s not over grades

Or food

Or a romantic relationship

It’s over friendships,

Something I rarely write about

Because I haven’t had any problems

With them until now

I’m the star of the friend group

And they’re the tree

I’m lonely

They’re all connected,

Excluding me like I’m

A piece of paper

They have to turn in

But don’t want to.

I show up and it’s like

I’m trying to communicate with them from an alternate dimension cuz they don’t hear me

He says something

They laugh

I say something,

and it’s silence,

The kind so strong that

It actually makes me silent

They’re Ursula taking away my voice

Cuz what’s the point of saying anything at all

Or making any effort at all

If no one is gonna hear you

Or give you a chance?

I know I can’t make them like me

I know that

But I need someone, anyone

I’m begging for someone

To just acknowledge me so I know

I’m actually alive and not in some hell loop

Help me please just anyone, someone

I’m reaching out like you’re telling me to

All this encouraging to reach out for help

means you have to actually help

I’m coming into your dimension

I’m just asking you to meet me halfway

Please.

They Say

They say I’m quiet,

when I’m calm.

They say I lack anger,

when I’m afraid to take off

My people-pleasing jumpsuit –

You know, the one made of skin.

My skin.

I used to disagree with them,

But speechless and unable to make my own words,

I repeat back the same words that they say about me

Like a parrot.

That’s the problem: I don’t know how I view myself.

The second I accept my timid nature,

I see someone I know in a store

And awkwardly say hi,

Mumble and say all the wrong things,

And I’m back to feeling like I was put in a foreign country,

Where there’s a well-known language

I simply haven’t learned yet.

I want to learn it, and I know I will,

But at the same time,

the timid language I know,

I know that is who I’ll always be deep down.

I can learn to speak up more,

But is it really right to make it my whole life,

When my roots are in the language of my home country?

Maybe that doesn’t make sense,

I’m not good at communication,

But I don’t care because

It makes sense to me.

I say I don’t have enough friends because of my shyness,

I say that, they don’t;

I’ve realized I have it flipped around.

Sorta.

I’m fine with my shyness,

What I’m not fine with is how I appear to other people.

Like I’m content with only a few good friends,

but Society barks at me like I’m a lone wolf without her pack,

And I care.

So similarly to how I respond to men cat-calling me on the street,

I bark back.

The Death Cycle

Breathe.

Ignore the call.

Shut my bedroom curtains,

their waving ruffled design

as steady as my emotions.

Unsteady, uneven

Cry.

Wipe off my tears,

leave behind red

scarring tissue.

Break up with my boyfriend,

Cry again.

Dance in my room.

Pass my AP test.

Next day,

Parents divorce.

Didn't get out of bed the next morning,

Scold myself

for missing school,

F***

Now I'm behind.

Get the razor,

the blade sharp

Like my thoughts

that won't leave me

alone,

Reminding me when

I almost did it,

With my ex,

In my room;

Bare mattress,

The covers stripped off

Like my clothes,

And I kissed him,

Our tongues attacking,

His naked hands

On my chest,

He's on top of me.

I jump off my bed,

Too scared

To continue,

He doesn't want me

Anymore because I'm

No longer of any use to him.

Why,

Why don't guys want to get

To know me?

Maybe it's because I'm too smart,

Too fat

Too nice

Too shy

Too me.

The razor feels good,

the pooling blood

Like an oasis.

I watch it

The pain, the whimpers

I can't hold in

distract me.

I know it's wrong,

I know that,

But I don't care.

My mom walks in,

looks at the red sink,

It swirls like a toilet

But this contaminated water

Can't go down the drain.

I go to the therapist.

I blink,

I talk,

Scratch that.

I lie.

I'm an excellent liar.

I fail the test on Monday

My mom yells

My best friend is

taking my ex to prom.

I say it's fine,

I nod, biting my

lip.

I don't leave my room,

I sleep,

Eat,

Throw it up.

My dog dies,

I skip prom,

I's the end of the

World.

It won't get better

This is what I confess to my therapist,

And when she asks me

how I know,

I breathe.

Cry.

Dance in my room.

Get the razor.

And I do it all over again.

The death cycle getting closer

and closer

Each time

To ending

Altogether.