Read: Artina Carthen
알티나 카덴은 오하이오주의 콜럼버스 출신이며 빠르게 성장하고 있는 대한민국의 시문학 이야기 모임에 최근 깊이 빠지게 되었습니다. 그녀의 작품은 대면해서 털어놓기가 항상 쉽지만은 않은 그런 그녀 인생의 가장 사적인 부분에서부터 뻗어나옵니다. 그러나 무대에서의 해방감은 그녀가 마음을 활짝 열고 잠시나마 모두를 사적인 부분까지 받아들일수 있도록 허락해주고 있습니다.
Artina Carthen is from Columbus, Ohio and is currently delving into the quickly growing spoken word community across South Korea. Her work stems from the most personal parts of her life that are not always easy talking about in person, but the freedom of the stage allows her to open up and let everyone in for a little while.
An Ode to Life Lesson #3
When you've been in an abusive relationship, most times you have to relearn how to speak to yourself.
The negative voice that used to be his, somehow became yours and you forgot how to love yourself.
That residual emotional solitude has somehow made it's way into your present and you no longer remember what it feels like to think fondly of yourself.
Ugly, self devastating thoughts. You were manipulated to believe that that's what love sounds like, so that's how you begin to "love" yourself.
"Maybe he was right?"
"Maybe I am worthless."
"Maybe I am too emotional?"
"Maybe I am weak?"
"Even he threw me away."
"I'm never enough."
It's one thing to cause someone else pain, but it's another when you have caused a train crash.
Full speed ahead towards a time where a young woman hides herself away in fear of being manipulated. Towards a time where the idea of trusting someone gave her heart palpitations. A time where thinking about speaking her truth sent her into anxiety. A time where she took this beautiful gorgeous unbound and infinite amount of love and put it in a iron clad box and buried it so far deep inside her half broken spirit that even the jaws of life couldn't get it out.
A woman who was born to love, but thinks her strength stolen from her.
All the love to give in the world yet she feels that no-one wants it.
Abuse makes you think ugly things. Abuse makes you see yourself in a devastating way.
There cannot be darkness in the presence of light.
That iron clad box with the beautiful gorgeous unbound and infinite amount of love inside?
No matter how much you fight and run and hide suppress it, it grows.
It heals you.
Love reminds you that you can't you can't protect yourself from sadness without protecting yourself from happiness.
Love says be open.
Love says forgive yourself.
Love says love.
I taught you how not to treat a woman
I am the one that was chosen to teach you how to not love someone. How to not care, and still expect to be treated like a perfect man. You practiced how to hurt someone and make them feel as if they deserved it. How to know when to break someone down to get what you want from them. And you did it with so much ease.
The lessons you learned from me, left me scarred.
You plucked her out of that backwoods junk yard and treated her like the Queen I am.
You told her you loved her with my pussy still on your lips.
She was untouched. Pure. Ignorant of you. Easily influenced. I guess mediocrity is worth it to you.
To try to gain my trust against the memory of your abuse would have been too great a challenge. To you, a new woman meant another chance at love. The one I may have given you would have forced you to come to terms with yourself.
I saw you. I was the mirror that showed you the monster you were capable of being. I was the woman that reminded you just to much of your mother. The mother that left her child crying at home alone. The mother that refused to show you any love or affection. Unbeknownst to me, I was paying for her mistakes.
I was forced to carry your scars. Your insecurities. I was the reminder of the man you chose not to be. I was the product of the guilt you carry into your dreams. The guilt that ate away at you and asked, why you couldn't handle a Queen? Why is it that your manhood was threatened by my womanhood?
My heart was broken so that junk yard could soak up some of the love you refused me and wipe the rust away from her tattered bumper.
And I'm left here. Broken, but happy. And laughing. Laughing at the memory of the lesson. And how I ever allowed myself to be your teacher.
Who else would I be talking to
In this moment.
It's just you and me.
You beautiful, beautiful person who
Takes the entirety of my breath away with just one touch. A hand on the small of my back. A touch on my arm in passing. A kiss on the back of my neck. You ignite me.
I can travel through dimensions with the electricity you send through my body even from just a look.
These butterflies in my stomach feel more like puppies. I get flustered when I see you walking towards me. I rack my brain trying to remember the words, "hey baby, I missed you" every single time I see you. And I simply cannot imagine a world where your flesh doesn't meet mine.
A world where gravity can't possibly exist. Because the only thing that keeps me grounded is the way your hands sway my hips.
You are so damn fine.
I had dreams of you before we even met. I saw the way your strong arms looked wrapped around me, the way you'd tilt your head to the side when you wanted me.
I felt the grip of your hands in my hair and of course the soft caresses on my stomach.
I could never quite make out your face though.
It was almost always buried in between my thighs.
Now I know why I instinctively search for your warmth in my sleep.
I am forever a slave to the sounds of your moaning voice.
Your energy is the anti black hole to my exploding star. Forever engulfing me, intoxicating, coaxing me in further and further.
I cannot escape, I don't want to.
But with you my light shines brighter.
I become a glowing manifestation of your determined but patient love OF me.
You.... feel so good.
Lord have mercy on my soul for the things you make me say when you're inside of me. Those sinful words a titillating proclamation of my need of you.
And only you.
Always for you.
Now.... come here.