Light Filters In: Poems

by Caroline Kaufman

am a walking paradox, a mismatched mix of innocence and experience, a bottle of oil and water constantly being shaken. I overthink the details. I miss the big picture. I am a perfectionist. I am a procrastinator. I have strong opinions. I am indecisive. I am stubborn. I apologize too much.

I thought that I might win. but once again I find myself digging graves into my skin.

sometimes I imagine my younger self and I worry she wouldn’t recognize me.

one day (it may be tomorrow, it may be next week, it may be next year) you will see who I really am, and (crack) “oh no” (crack) “I didn’t want you to get attached” (crack) “this isn’t right” (falling) “I’m sorry” (gone).

come and sit with me. we can watch the day grow dark as we do the same.

I perk up. my depression? I never thought it was bad enough or serious enough or devastating enough for a diagnosis. I had myself convinced I was making it up.

wait and see how much they can take of me before they leave.

the first trial lasted nine months. he had the same issues I did. we were both emotionally dependent. we both believed we could save each other. of course, we couldn’t.

but if someone else can love me, that means it’s possible for me to do it as well.

don’t mistake the freefall for floating. I did that once. I never saw the pavement coming.

the problem was not asking him to complete me. the problem was believing I was incomplete to begin with.

sometimes people distance themselves when I mention my mental illness. they look at me like I am a box of matches ready to burn at any second. they look at me like my world is tipped on its side, revolving the wrong way. I think their heads are just tilted from so much skepticism.