Seatbelt

They call you a daydreamer,
and sure, you’re a deep thinker,
filled with hope and in search of gold.
But why would you ever want to dream, to waste all of that time
in the precious and delicate moments, in which you are privileged to be awake?

“Close your eyes!”
they say.
“Look away!”
they command.
This is the problem you see.

For when I’m experiencing zero gravity, as the old, rickety roller coaster begins its downward spiral,
these are the few moments that I know for sure I am awake:
I am alive.
In those few moments of free-falling, I choose to live; I open my eyes.

Life is a roller coaster, and I simply do not know how to wear a seatbelt.

A dream is a memory that never came true.
You’re alive. Open your eyes. Now, keep them open.
Don’t get me wrong—I’m not saying to never dream again.
I’m just waking you up from a very short nap, the kind that makes you drowsier than you were before you fell asleep.
Don’t forget to acknowledge every breath; you never know when it may be your last.

For one day, you might awake,
next to the man who says he loves you,
next to the man who kisses you goodnight.
But when you do, indeed, consciously choose to close your eyes.
He’s not a dream.

He’s not a dream at all.
He’s a nightmare
and you cannot wake up.
He is inescapable and terrifying—disgustingly destructive in all that he ever was,
as he reminded you of the monster hiding beneath your bed.

He is no Peter Pan,
but I promise you, he will most certainly take you to Neverland: the Land of the Lost.
Never will you ever fully trust any man again,
not ever again,
all because of a little five-letter word that describes what happened to you:

Abuse.

Life is a roller coaster, and I simply do not know how to wear a seatbelt.

You cannot run, and you cannot hide.
There is no base; there is nowhere safe.
This is not a game of hide and seek
because he’s coming for you.
Oh no, wait, he’s behind you! Run! Scream! Hide!

He said he was “going to work.”
Let’s be real: I should have never believed him.
I was the one working three jobs, raising his puppy, beginning my first year in college, and fully supporting both of us,
and I was only eighteen at the time.
As he sat down in front of the Xbox, playing his farming game, I realized that this was what he meant by “work.”

I laughed.

Life is a roller coaster, and I simply do not know how to wear a seatbelt.

You no longer dream—
All you can manage is to merely survive.
Would you say that you’re alive?