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Confession

I learned what I fear today: Intimacy. I can’t seem to face my raw emotions bluntly; in fact I despise them for being unpoetic Why be vulgar and direct when I can hide behind my metaphors, my harbor; my fantasies, my buffer—between reality and my brain cells too proud to be seen scattered, sprinkled all over— well, nothing Even this moment I struggle to simply write: I’m messy. I’m hurt. I’m lone and gloomy and primitive and violent. I can’t speak of my love and hatred in raw honesty, no—I must be filtered so when I scramble myself undone on paper I no longer belong to me. I’ll be safe, from me; an outsider, from me. Critics say a raw poem whispers secrets like readers are old friends But I have long forgotten, how a girl usually lets her voice confess

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Tom Woody

Date: 7/25/2025 5:35:00 AM

The cure? True love. Once you find it your emotions will pour out of you like a torrent. Meantime, we're satisfied getting to know you a little bit at a time. For example, we now know you don't care for martinis ;)

Jasmine Tsai
Date: 7/25/2025 8:55:00 AM

But it's only recently (yesterday, to be honest) that I realized I have been using my words as a buffer--a form of dissociation, I want to say? Not sure if I want to change that part about me though, every phase is worth noting on its own.

Jasmine Tsai
Date: 7/25/2025 8:49:00 AM

I, too, turn to poetry 'Because a kind word can heal a broken heart or a crushed spirit'. I am a scattered brain myself, and I write in case someone ever feels what I felt and needs a voice to spell out that nagging itch in their brain.

Tom Woody
Date: 7/25/2025 6:12:00 AM

I think many of us struggle with it. The closest I've come is my two tributes to my father and my 2nd poem entered here - Why I became a poet. But mostly I feel more comfortable writing fiction.

Jasmine Tsai
Date: 7/25/2025 6:08:00 AM

I still have much time ahead of me to stumble upon true love, it seems. For now, even reading poems like Kaur's unsettles me--I somehow can neither write nor read raw, primitive feelings. It's the most peculiar.