In My Head

“We are perfect.
It’s just you and me
and that’s all that matters.”

In my head, we are perfect. We snuggle and hold each other every night. We kiss every chance we have, and sometimes just get lost in each other’s eyes. Those moments are the ones I live for. The ones where everything else falls away. And I know, it’s just you and me and that’s all that matters.

But on the outside, I’m keeping my distance from you, and no matter how much screaming goes on in my head, I can’t reach out to hold your hand, or to lean into your side and let you hold me. I find it hard to kiss you with abandon — like any normal couple would. I can barely look in your eyes, not because they aren’t breathtaking — because they are. And I know, if I let you see, you’ll see the pain in mine.

Intimacy isn’t easy for a survivor like me. But I try the best I can to give you what you deserve.
And I know. I know I’m failing. Every day, I fail you.

In my head, we are perfect. But outside, there’s a wedge between us that I can’t seem to bridge. I’ll keep trying to find my way to you. Because those are the moments I live for.

© Sarah Doughty
2018

One day, maybe, I won’t fail.
Please don’t give up on me yet.

I Knew My Faults

“I knew my faults.
And they always stared
back at me in the mirror.”

As long as I can remember, I knew my faults. They were engraved in my flesh, repeated so often that even I saw nothing else. I knew every one. Believed every one. I was every one.

I knew my faults when I was toddling around, learning how to speak, how to walk, how to cower.

I knew my faults when I began school. How I wasn’t smart enough, not social enough. How I was a target in school. And at night.

I knew my faults in the dark. I learned my best to do what was required of me, but I was never quite good enough. I knew what my hands needed to do, how my lips should stay soft, or how my hips were supposed to move with the right timing. After awhile, I knew those moves just enough to get by.

I knew my faults. And they always stared back at me in the mirror.

© Sarah Doughty
2018

Special thanks to Whisper And The Roar
for publishing this piece.
I was inspired by all the incredible pieces (see below)
that spawned from Kindra‘s initial piece.
Thank you, all of you, for giving my words
a place to rest among yours. It is always an honor.

Inspired by:
Kindra M. Austin’s ‘I Knew My Worth’
Kristiana Reed’s ‘I Knew My Mistakes’
Christine Ray’s ‘I Knew My Name’
Eric Syrdal’s ‘I Knew My Heart’
Megha Sood’s ‘I Knew My Lesson’
1Wise Woman’s ‘I Knew My Fate’
Rachel Finch’s ‘I Knew My Purpose’

When I Die

“So when I die, don’t be sad.
I’ll still be with you.”

When I die, let me go. Don’t hold on to the shell of what I was. Don’t reminisce about our years together. Don’t grieve. My spirit needs to be set free, and yours needs to be free of me, even as nothing more than a ghost. Because all I did was hold you back.

When I die, set me free. I know that your world will darken for a time, but you deserve to move on. You deserve to finally be happy. You deserve to live a life where you are loved the way you should be loved.

When I die, scatter me to the wind, settle parts of me in the mountains, let a bit of the sea take me away, and let the last of me burn away. Because those are all the places I have ever been and will always be. Around you, within you. There, even though I’m gone.

So when I die, don’t be sad. I’ll still be with you. I’ll still love you in the afterlife. I’ll still love you for all you sacrificed. I’ll still love you for keeping your vows. I’ll still love you.

© Sarah Doughty
2018

I’ll still love you.

Combustion

“I wanted him.
And if I couldn’t have him,
I would spontaneously combust.”

It had been days since I’d felt his touch. And it was driving me insane. Like a fever. The only thing I had were moments that told me all I’d ever wanted in my life was him, and I was reaching my boiling point. I wanted to taste him, feel his lips move against mine. I wanted to feel his warm skin and revel in its softness. I wanted him. And if I couldn’t have him, I would spontaneously combust.

Seriously.

© Sarah Doughty
2018

It was only a matter of time.
And I could feel my fingertips
begin to singe.

Inspired by events that transpired
in my first novel, Just Breathe.

Shedding

“But I only know one thing: I need you.
So please, just hold me for a little while.”

I feel like I’m shedding my skin. Layer by layer, I am unraveling. Like a spool of yarn, at the mercy of a wild litter of kittens. And I am down to the last few inches. I am raw. Exposed. And something is about to happen. I just don’t know what that something is. I don’t know what to do about it.

But I only know one thing: I need you. So please, just hold me for a little while.

© Sarah Doughty
2018

I’m here. So hold me.

Lies Like Rainbows

“You had everyone fooled.
And you may not have realized it,
but I saw you for what you were.”

You never accepted the faults you made. And apologies were only for empathy’s sake. Then swept all your wrongdoings under the rug as if they didn’t exist.

Because how could you ever be considered such a hurtful person if your façade was unblemished?

But what I don’t understand is how you did those things and pretended nothing happened. That all was well. How could you lie so smoothly, like rainbows were flying out of your mouth? You had everyone fooled. And you may not have realized it, but I saw you for what you were.

© Sarah Doughty
2018

I still see you.

Cowardly Boy

“You see, I knew from the beginning
what you wanted from me.
But I tried to be a good friend anyway.”

You see, I knew from the beginning what you wanted from me. But I tried to be a good friend anyway. You would ask for more. Push for it. Manipulate your way to get closer to me. And, at last, when I refused to have sex with you, I was a horrible person. A terrible friend.

Worthless.

That was the end of our so-called friendship. Because I was a person and you were a coward.

© Sarah Doughty
2018

Or, maybe, you didn’t know
what you did was wrong.
Which would make you a monster.
I’m not sure which is worse.

To the boy who tried to
break me when I was a teenager.

This is an excerpt of a longer piece,
published at Blood Into Ink, here.

Under Your Spell

“The day that you arrived
I was caught under your spell.
And I was okay with that.”

The day that you arrived was the day my world lit up. Like I saw the sun for the first time under a lifetime of moonlight. It was so bright at first that my eyes watered and all I could see was a white-hot light. But then my eyes adjusted and I could see more than shadows. I could see more than darkened colors. I saw you, and those damn eyes that made color itself jealous. And those hands. Those tendons and veins running through them. Oh, how they could move.

I was caught under your spell. And I was okay with that.

© Sarah Doughty
2018

What sweet music
your hands could make.

I met my husband in high school
band practice. And I couldn’t help
but watch him play.
Sometimes, when he thinks
I’m not looking, I’ll still watch him.

Finding My Way

“We were perfect.
Because we were together.”

I think I’m lost without you. The way you used to guide us, like you knew exactly where we needed to be and where we were going. It was perfect. We were perfect. Never a wrong turn, never a place I didn’t want to be. Because we were together. And without you, everything is dark, the roads are twisting and turning, and hope is running out the more life knocks me down.

Yes, I miss you. But I can find my way on my own.

We all experience pain. Heartbreak. Loss. It hurts. And sometimes that pain is unbearable. Just because you can handle your pain better than someone else, it doesn’t mean that person is weak or less of a person. It doesn’t mean the way they feel their pain is any less valid. Accept that people feel and sometimes they can feel a lot. Don’t make things worse by dragging their pain through the mud.

© Sarah Doughty
2018

People feel.
Let them do it their way.
And be there if they need you.

For CC.

Terrible Beginnings

“Some of the most beautiful things
can indeed come from
terrible beginnings.”

So here’s the thing about living with the resulting memories after years of torment. It’s hell, for lack of a better term. In some instances, I’m able to daydream with my eyes open. To tap into the most beautiful, fictional universes, where I can experience whatever my heart desires. I’m able to use this light — at times — to bite back when I get knocked down. Proof that some of the most beautiful things can indeed come from terrible beginnings. At other times — most of the time, it seems — I’m getting eaten alive by the reminders of my past. And the paralyzing amount of anxiety I feel just keeps building. After years of struggling, I’m tired. But I have no choice but to keep fighting. Anything less would be admitting defeat.

© Sarah Doughty

And I cannot do that.