I'm Still Here: A Short Reflection in Personal Vulnerability

Still Here” is a direct representation of weekly thoughts that start from Monday and end on Friday. In no particular order, I’ve pulled pieces of writing from my notes and put them on things I’ve photographed that coincide with the feeling attached to them. Though the pieces are short and for what they appear to be to the point, they’ve taken everything from me in the moment of writing them and in return have been a type of healing for me. 

I typically am the type of person to start my week off on a more or less healthy note; trying my best to be centered with my feelings and know that I’m in control of myself as long as I allow myself to be. I think the part that’s missing from that honesty is the part where deep down inside of my shell, I know that at some point during the week, I’ll have these repetitive thoughts in my vulnerability that I know I will struggle with. This type of anxiety creates a state of panic for me and lights the flame for the most guilty part of myself: overthinking.. everything. Although this shouldn’t feel shameful and should more so resonate with me as a lesson that I can learn from; that not everyone hates me, that maybe I am the creator of my own fight, that the hollowness in the bottom of my coffee isn’t trying to tell me something - what’s most shameful is the overwhelming feeling that just a couple months ago, this was a battle that I hadn’t fought in years. 

I wish I could pin-point the exact moment where I decided, yes, I am the entire bearer of bad news in my actual existence, so I could shake myself and tell her no, you are more than that. I wish I knew at what point I decided it was a great idea to give myself reasons to feel like a burden when I could be spending my time creating, learning, and healing from it. This was the first piece I let myself actively heal from in months. It’s one of those pieces that doesn’t make my body feel heavy after creating it (which isn’t at all a bad thing either, because creating and healing comes in different shapes and forms.) But this is the healing I needed. And at the end of the week, I’m still here - which is a fact that is so much important than I give it credit for. 

The Secret History of The Light In Us

by Morgan Martinez

The light of you
is so soft
I can see
your headlights
from a mile away.
The light of you
the light of me,
floating.
Imagine this
softly,
I meet you again.
Somewhere.
Softly,
carrying you with me,
Imagine this.
softly,
never being without you
again.
The light of you
the light of me,
moving through
dimensions of I miss you
and accepting
without you,
somewhere,
softly,
I meet you again.