saying hello, i’m here, can you see me?

by Victoria Bromley

A sample submission for our upcoming issue 06 Desire.

i am sensitive and cruel, the victim and the inflictor of pain onto the ones i love because i like to test them, no i need to test them, so that even that edge of myself that i hate most is still loved when i catch my thumb on it and bleed until i’m lightheaded. you may be thinking why do i hiss and bite and snag my claws at your skin so you can also fear my destructive brain? i don’t mean to hurt you, i’m sorry, i don’t want to be alone in this darkness, come here with me, please.

i reach out for your hand, feel over the bumps of your knuckles and the shine of your fingernails, then squeeze until the tips of your fingers turn white, just like the whites of my eyes, begging you to see me. can you see me? i feel like i’ve been here but never present for so long i’ve drifted into limbo until i wonder if i’ll be lost to the void for an eternity. i’m overly dramatic, and emotional, but you know that. do you know that? i want you to know me how i know myself, for you to undertake the same archaeological dig i was made to do in my adolescence when i was introduced to the growing form i was becoming, now i have become that self and i am a fully formed being who i don’t really like. are you still listening? you’re not looking at me, now you turn your head but i can’t meet your eyes. it’s embarrassment, that heat under your cheeks, i’ve given it to you so i don’t hold so much.

it’s as if i’ve been greeting people my whole life saying hello, can you see me? i don’t think i’m here, i don’t know this place and whether i want to stay. does that make sense? i can see you, you stand so close, but I don’t think you get me; i wish i could make you understand.

Submissions for issue 06 Desire open Sunday 17th March – Sunday 31st March.