“String Me Along”
Tangled by Valerie Parente
All these tangled thoughts
have one common thread
twisted in a pattern
I’ve memorized in my head.
Stringing me along
with so much time spent
leaving me weak and worn
frayed and torn to shreds.
So much pretty yarn
it tells me where I’ve been
but it’s nobody’s concern
when I tie up the loose ends.
I wonder how long
until someone notices
I’ve been weaving my words
hoping that they’ll be read.
– Valerie Parente (5-31-2019)
A Poetic Manifesto by Valerie Parente
What it means to be an artist is that I take my life experiences and process them through a creative filter. My internal world manifests best through the art of written word. As a result, when I’m in pain I might write a “dark” piece. To those who find this work disturbing, this is my rebuttal.
I have every right to say anything I want to say
because this page is my stage and this is my brain
and the reason you felt uncomfortable when you read it
was because you have resonated with it.
If you become upset knowing that I am broken
then please understand that writing about my mental health
is how I begin to heal myself.
I will never stop emoting and hurting and healing and if any of this is problematic for someone then I pray you find the strength to learn how to be human one day.
– Valerie Parente (5-30-2019)
the truth is, I’m frustrated by Valerie Parente
I’ve been the strong one. I’ve proved I’m smart, have a heart, and can read the mind of the most troubled. I’ve traveled, I’ve stayed, I’ve gone out of my way, I’ve done everything under the sun to prove that I am good enough. I’ve felt high, I’ve felt brave, I’ve felt the electricity every cliché claims. I’ve given time, I’ve given space, and left you so amazed. I’ve been brutally honest, I’ve been reassuring, even when my mind was hurting. I’ve been a friend, I’ve been family, I’ve been a team-player even when you played me. I’ve been wise, I’ve been right, and I understand your mind when I write my lines. I’ve been forgiving, I’ve maintained a good mood even when I should have been rude. I’ve been sweet, I’ve been grateful, even when I should have hated you. I’ve been impressive, I’ve been respectful, I’ve shielded you from my pain even when it drove me mental. I’ve gone above and beyond and I did it for what?
At what point did I go wrong?
I see a boy care about me then I watch it dissolve.
What is it about me that nobody wants?
Because every time I care I become the saddest person of all.
The truth is, I’m frustrated, and I think I have every right to be. Because I’ve been the kindest person of all and the girl God needed from me. So why the hell am I alone? Why the hell am I unseen? I’m right in front of your faces being the best damn version of me.
Call me crazy, why not?
But I think it’s a damn shame
when you’re there for someone’s darkest hour but they won’t give you the time of day.
All I want is to be loved.
And I think I’m fairly done.
Because I don’t know how much longer I can be the strong one.
– Valerie Parente (5-28-2019)
Comparing Scars by Valerie Parente
I don’t feel great when other girls talk about their pain
because I feel like I have to one-up them just to validate my struggle
and I know it’s ridiculous that I actually feel jealous
of someone else’s suffering as if it’s a form of currency
like it’s a competition of whose scar is more impressing
I feel the need to defeat her by showing a cut that’s deeper
because if I’m the one who’s talked about then maybe I’ll no longer doubt myself.
I know it’s sick and warped how much I crave to be heard
I’m longing for attention more than I long for redemption
I don’t need some comfort, all I need is to come first
some kind of stage or grand display to say my hardship wasn’t in vain
it’s not just about being different, it’s about justifying the infliction
all that I’ve carved upon myself instead of asking for some help
and I know this truth is ugly but I need to speak with honesty
because if I can’t at least be real then there’s no point to how I feel.
– Valerie Parente (5-19-2019)
Write-Brained by Valerie Parente
People don’t read my work
And it kills me inside
I want to be loved
But even more
I want to be recognized
I’ve been lonely for so long
That’s why I started to write
But what is the point
When no one wants to read my mind.
– Valerie Parente (5-10-2019)
Published Books
Value by Valerie Parente
I know my value and I see it every day
I need to stop punishing myself
when it isn’t seen by someone else.
– Valerie Parente (5-5-2019)
There Might Be More To Me Than The Emotions I Keep by Valerie Parente
My feelings aren’t as complicated as my mind is making them
with this dissonant narration.
I’ve been caught in a loop
about a story I wanted to be true.
You see my brain does this thing where it prioritizes my feelings
over logic and reason.
Making a stable personality
the most dominant part of me.
Meanwhile I have these thoughts, irrational obsessions that haunt.
For years they were caught
associating you with my name
but now my emotions have changed.
Now my ego is anxious, though it’s really quite simplistic.
No matter how much I resist it
I know I’m moving on
whether I like it or not.
The truth is, I think it’s scary that there might be more to me
than the emotions I keep.
If I get over how I felt
then how do I define myself?
But then I think of how happy I can be now that I’ve set myself free
from that same old story.
– Valerie Parente (1-31-2018)
your actions say a whole lot more than your words by Valerie Parente
I’m too old to play these mind games
and you’re too old for me to baby you
face your feelings and act like an adult
and if you need to, get help
figure out why you act the way you do
I already know
but it’s time for you to know too.
– Valerie Parente (4-11-2019)
Inquiries by Valerie Parente
What do you want when you are the only one in charge?
Who are you when nobody else tells you what to want?
How long will it take you to let go of your flaws?
Do you even think before you talk?
Where are you in your thoughts?
– Valerie Parente (11-27-2017)
Intention by Valerie Parente
He was sick. Nose stuffed. Ears blocked. Miserable on the couch. His only movement came from his fatigued thumb gently scrolling through the phone.
“Open the door” came a text from his close friend.
His eyes burned. He hesitantly typed, “Door’s unlocked”
The floorboards creaked as the girl walked into the loft with a bright smile and a piping hot container clasped between her hands.
“I got you your favorite soup from downtown. Maybe it’ll make you feel better.”
He didn’t get up. He didn’t thank her. “Why did you do that?”
In that split second her eyes shifted from glowing to deeply hurt.
She didn’t shut down. She didn’t back track. She said what needed to be said. “What is wrong with you?” Those piercing words sounded more like they were begging for an answer than asking a simple question.
“I- I just don’t know why you’d waste your time-”
“Don’t pretend you have my best interest in mind,” she snapped. You never would have guessed that this was the same sweet and giddy girl that just came skating into the loft.
He knew he had a problem. He knew this was his problem but his mind was trying so hard to categorize this as her problem. His thoughts cranked away, trying to rationalize the panic coursing through his veins in a way that didn’t pin the blame on him.
The problem wasn’t that she did something nice for him. The problem was that she paid attention to what his favorite soup was. The problem was that she went out of her way to drive to his favorite take-out restaurant and then in another direction to his loft. The problem was that she thought, in her time alone, that doing something for him would be a worthy use of her energy. The problem was that she thought of him.
Before he could translate his thoughts into verbal daggers she called him out.
“How miserable it must be to be you,” she shook her head in disbelief, “How little do you think of yourself that you feel the need to stop or shame anybody for caring about you? Not just doing a nice favor for you… but really caring for you. Understanding you. Just because you don’t see your own value doesn’t mean I have to stop caring. You hate yourself so you project all of that onto me and I am so sick of it.” Her mouth quivered in contrast to how strong and stern her tone was.
He didn’t know what to say. He couldn’t figure out a rebuttal fast enough.
“I am NOT your punching bag!” she cried out with a voice so strained you could hear the exhaustion in her vocal chords.
He rubbed his fingertips on his bloodshot eyes up to his temples. Why was he like this? Hurting her feelings was never his intention. His intention… well… what was his intention? He didn’t know.
Her eyes were wet but she didn’t break eye contact. “I’m not going to apologize for having emotions just because you can’t handle your own! I am entitled to feel things when I’m around you. I’m not going to let your self-hatred stop me. I’m sorry but that’s not a war you’re going to win.”
He panicked, “I- I’m sorry-”
“I don’t want to hear ‘I’m sorry’!” she was crying now. “I want you to get professional help! I need you to! I need you to be okay! I need you to accept yourself! I need you to take care of yourself! I need you to understand your worth! And in order to get to that point you’re going to need to cry and hurt and feel a whole bunch of uncomfortable feelings and I need you to know that it’s going to get better… and I need you to believe me when I say that! Because if you don’t get to a healthy point then you’re going to lose… and if you can’t handle someone having emotions around you then you’re going to wind up alone.”
Alone.
That.
That was his intention.
A dominating part of him was trying to push people away. Not just any people. The people who care… really care. The people who get inside his head. The closer they were to understanding him when he couldn’t even understand himself meant the harder he needed to push. And she understood him and she got in his head and she saw all his flaws but still cared. That’s why this girl was getting the brunt of his insecurity-spawned and fear-born frustration. An unconscious facet of his brain was trying with full force to wind up alone… because being alone would be easier than handling the emotions that come to the surface when you have a real connection with someone.
– Valerie Parente (4-22-2019)
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