Missing me

I miss me

and I don’t know why.

Had I gone somewhere?

Had I ever left?

Who’s been living in this vessel?

If not me, then who?

And what of my soul?

My heart?

An impostor? A doppelgänger? A body snatcher?

Who dare slip into my skin and devour time without my permission? Who dare live so wastefully without my consent?

Here I am a decade later – feeling as if I’d hit my head and can’t find the last 10 years. Can’t see those years. Can’t feel them anymore.

Apparently I’ve misplaced some things, including myself along the way.

I need to find me again. Because I miss me. A lot.

 

– Rachel R. Vasquez, 5/7/2015

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Once again, no deliberation here. Just have a lot of feels I need to get out these days…

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Lost Brother

Lost Brother

Sometimes I want to hug a man I don’t know anymore,

but he’s still ripe in my nostalgia.

I can almost feel his boney frame encasing my own uncomfortably.

Wood knocking –

except he was more like lumber while I was more like twigs.

Towering and looming –

felt like shelter. Felt like safety.

The closest to a brother I could ever have as a brother-less woman.

There was strength, ease, and most of all, no pressure. No innuendos. No assumptions. No judgement.

Just our branches tangling in a completely love smothered gesture.

Sometimes, I have this urge to hug him,

but I don’t know where he is anymore,

because I no longer know him.

 

– Rachel R. Vasquez, 5/6/2015

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This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives 4.0 International License.

 

There was no thoughtful process involved here. Literally wrote this up within the last few minutes and had to get it out of me. Knew a guy in high school that was like a brother to me – not sure how we lost touch throughout the years, but I’ve come to realization recently that I really, really want to see him again. And hug him. The last pictures I have of us together, we’re hugging.

I miss that tall skinny jock. Damn it…