Chicago

Location

76208
United States
33° 12' 16.416" N, 97° 3' 38.16" W

Someone once said, “Recovery is not a team sport. It’s a solitary distance run. It’s long. It’s exhausting. And it’s lonely as hell.”

I have to survive this.
I have to survive this.
I have to survive this.
Because I haven’t seen Chicago.

I wondered if I still had a heart beat.
Or if this pressure on my chest
Was just my body remembering his weight sunken in my flesh
Like the way the 4th of September drowned last year.
And that stillness hit Autumn as hard as an earthquake in Japan.
I thought he was going to kill me.
I thought I was going to die with bruised ribs and my muted voice upstairs at a party.
Under the breath of a drunk.
And my ignored words.
Under his cold hands that he passed off to me.
It’s the reason my fingers are always frozen.
Under the impression that I’d never again glow.
I have to survive this.
Because I haven’t seen Chicago.

I wondered if I was still breathing.
Hyperventilating.
Palms sweating.
Threatening.
Months later.
This heart wrenching life is what was left.
With panic attacks in English class.
Hello high school heartache.
Because at the age of sixteen I defined silence.
I punched walls for a living and pushed people so far away you’d guess I hated the company.
You’d guess that rage traded itself for a suicide attempt in the beginning of February.
Valentine’s day shouldn’t be spent in a hospital.
But beside your loved ones.
My loved ones.
My friends.
My family.
My teachers.
I’m sorry.
I’m sorry if I ever pushed you so far that it hurt.
You loved me regardless.
My loved ones.
Who would have given up their sanity to make me feel whole.
Because they saw me in pieces.
I broke down in the arms of my mentors, fell apart in the classrooms of my instructors, and ran away when I saw their arms reach out to help me.
Never let me go.
I have to survive this.
Because I haven’t seen Chicago.

I wondered if I was still alive.
Or was I paralyzed.
Immobilized.
Turned into a statue by a trauma that took my breath away.
It tore me away from my religion
But softly called me back.
I tried to find God.
And I was praying like a priest searching for Christ when I couldn’t even see the sun.
All I knew was that the stars disappeared when food stopped filling my body.
And maybe you won’t understand that I wanted nothing me.
That I didn’t want to be full of food but filled with everything I lost
And my blood wasn’t doing justice.
Listen here, Calories, you didn’t want to be clung to me.
I was as empty as my abdomen.
I was as damaged as a car accident on the edge of New Orleans.
As the people who cared about me called an ambulance saying that this wreck shattered the world.
These people who love me the most.
They gave me comfort.
They opened my eyes.
These people gave me butterflies in my stomach when I first felt that I was no longer alone.
And a new friend recently told me that butterflies symbolize recovery.
Because I’m healing.
And they’re saving.

I have to survive this.
I have to survive this.
I have to survive this.
Because I haven’t seen Chicago.

Guide that inspired this poem: 

Comments

christiesanchez

I hope this helps people recover, heal, and forgive themselves. Writing it helped me.

jwiener

This is a wonderful poem, and I am sure that it will reach many people who can benefit from hearing the words! I thought it was really cool how you spent different amounts of time on different pictures, like when you said "my loved ones. / my friends. / my family. / my teachers" and the pictures went quickly to match the words. The addition of music was great too! Keep writing, and if you're interested in making other types of virtual poetry, check out our "Multimedia" action guide under "Take Action!"

christiesanchez

Thank you! I'm so glad you enjoyed it!

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