truths for a dishonest soul by Rachel Sandene

Don’t mistake pounding fists for pouring rain.
Six words on abusive hands
September 14, 2014

truths for a dishonest soul by Rachel Sandene

truths for a dishonest soul by Rachel Sandene

I. I was supposed to be delivered in the month of August but the star whose atoms I was forged from must’ve gone into supernova a few weeks too soon, because in the middle of July I was pulled from the pitch darkness of my mother’s womb and into the too-white world. From the moment of my birth my eyes shone like the star burning the last of its fuel in my veins; my daddy cried when he held me, the happiest hour of his life being that distant star’s very last and his beautiful baby girl’s very first.

II. He called me Bright Eyes for seven days because he and my mom hadn’t decided on a name for me yet, because in the clear grey-blue he could see silver constellations and nebulae glittering in the harsh fluorescent hospital lights. Somehow my daddy must’ve known that one day I would look into the face of a boy and then I wouldn’t be his beautiful baby girl anymore; I would be that boy’s girl, too, and he would call me beautiful and stare at my eyes and tell me they looked like an explosion of stars.

III. In the moment when he first said my eyes were stars, I felt like an entire universe unto myself. It must be because when I was pulled from my mother’s womb and into the sterile white light of the hospital operating room, some brilliant star in some faraway corner of the universe burst into sparks and glowed brighter than a galaxy for the split second of my first gasp for air. I breathed in the last bit of life of that star, the final spark. That star never died; it burns in my eyes instead.

IV. I’ve been told my eyes are stars, but no one told me I was the living remnants of a supernova. No one told me I was more than just a pinprick of light in the vastness of the sky. No one ever told me I was a piece of the universe, forged from the last shrapnel of a star, but my daddy called me Bright Eyes, and the boy who loved me said I was an starry-eyed explosion, and maybe that’s kind of the same thing. I have always been the bright product of chaos, born from love and distant suns.

V. I was supposed to be delivered in the month of August but the universe must’ve decided it needed another star to replace the one that had just gone out, and that’s why I opened my eyes.

Bright Eyes
September 7, 2014
The most dangerous lovers are the ones
Who still make you smile
While they are breaking you
September 5, 2014

What’d You Do Over The Summer?

September 4, 2014

I did a lot of things
I tried to write a novel for the eighth consecutive summer
(Failed to do so for the eighth time in a row)
I guess I’m really good at failing to do things
Failing to register for classes
Failing to be even a half-decent friend
Failing to walk away and stay away
From a boy who has almost more damage than good
(The key word there is “almost”
He’s hurt me but he still manages to make me smile
When I’m hurting more)

I went to Oregon
Filled up five disposable cameras with disposable memories
I like to think that photographs will make things permanent
But I’ve learned they only remind me of how ephemeral moments are
How once they’ve passed, you can’t take them back
(Oh, how I wish I could take some moments back)

I ran out of storage on my phone about fifty times
(I can’t wait for the iPhone 6)
But it’s funny how my heart
Doesn’t seem to have a maximum occupancy load
There’s enough room for everyone I care about
And yet most of them don’t stay
(They leave)

Oh, and I turned eighteen
It was rather uneventful
(I didn’t even have a party)
He wished me happy birthday
And it turned into a fight
(Yeah, I fought a lot this summer
With him, with my friends, with my parents
With myself)
(I fight myself the most)

There’s not too much that I can remember, though
I do recall getting my heart broken a couple of times
Losing a few friends, losing a lot of sleep
Making up for both losses by sleeping in until noon every single day
But other than that,
My summer was rather uneventful
(What about you?)

Vitruvian Man

September 3, 2014

Spin in a circle
With your arms stretched out as far as they can go
This is your sphere being sculpted into the surrounding air with just the tips
Of your fingers
This is all the space you occupy in the universe
This is how important you are
The universe set aside space for you to matter
Just you
Only you
So spin in a circle
Carve your space into the marble of the universe
You will always matter

How To Breathe

September 1, 2014

Never fall in love with a boy who says he can show you how to breathe
Tell him no thank you
You’re quite capable of doing it on your own
Because he will give you air while he is around but

When he goes away
His absence will leave you out of breath
The empty space where he used to be will have you choking on thin air
Missing him will be like trying not to suffocate in outer space
Loving him without him there to love you in return will feel as if
Any moment now
Your lungs will cave in
And you won’t be able to breathe ever again

Never fall in love with a boy who makes you think
He is the only reason you can breathe
Because even though you were quite capable of respiration
Before you met him
You’ll be holding your breath for his return
Until the day you die.

Only the blind still hold onto the hands that bruised them
Only the seeing know how to leave after they’ve been let go
I was blind but now I can see
August 31, 2014