oopsies -- poetry by isabella fiore
my laptop has so many tabs
open i think it may experience
the same mental breakdown that
plagued me twenty hours ago.
i sat at my desk wrapped like
a burrito in a fluffy blanket and
surfed tumblr for three hours.
today i considered scalding my
skin with carrot cake loose leaf
tea so i could feel something.
i settled for cleaning out my inbox
and sending passive aggressive
emails with just enough professionalism
to pass them off as friendly and not
none of this is my idea of fun.
i have not written in weeks because
i have not felt like my voice is worth
hearing. i have even stopped talking
to myself. my old therapist would call
that cured; the only sound in my head is
the self-destructive mantras that
bounce around like babies in a foam pit.
so maybe i am not better. i tell myself
that i am growing up and growing
out of mental illness and maybe
by this time next year the mere thought
of spotify advertisements won’t make
me want to end it all. then my insomnia
pulls me by the scruff of my neck (much
like how my sister handles our cat) and
reminds me i am the same girl i was
yesterday. by that it means overtired
and understimulated and losing my
i read audre lorde recently and it
changed my life. i say this with a hint
of melodrama but truly reading a queer
woman who is neither butch or femme
living her life gives me a sliver of hope
that i too will survive. at the end
she ends up single and lost but honey
that is simply the means to an end.
collateral damage in this lifetime travelling
to the next.
i struggle to spell catharsis but i think that
is when you feel as though you have
been swimming for hours and are just
wet and wrinkly and tired. like your bed
could not be close enough except i am
feeling this at 3:34pm on a thursday afternoon
and i think this is a depressive episode.
isabella fiore is a writer who chronicles her experiences through love, sadness, and figuring out what it means to be a queer "woman" in her world. her publications include Cathartic Lit Magazine and TEEN-ZINE. when she is not writing, isabella can be found baking, napping, or wrapping herself in a blanket like a burrito.