by Jessica C. Gray
There’s a colony of mice in my skull. They’re really wrecking the place. It started with only one- sad how one makes you prone to more. It’s a wonder I’m not sicker. All the droppings and chewed wires everywhere- even the ceiling sags with urine. Every day I wonder why my rent is so damn high. They get neurotic when I sleep, running across my eyelids and squeezing my lungs. Some nights I can’t sleep because I’m too afraid of them. I can’t help but think of moving out from time to time... I found instructions to make mouse traps online, spent months preparing myself. It took years to finally make them. The only thing they snap on are my toes. They stumbled around my arteries like they had a few too many. I drew my own blood, hoping they’d find their way out. I took away their food, hoping they’d starve. They chewed my hair as my stomach growled. Some of the mice look at me with kind eyes. One of them licks away my tears on bad nights. Sometimes I forget this is exactly what they wanted to happen Or maybe they didn’t think I’d live this long, either. When I asked for a pet, this isn’t what I was thinking of.
About the Contributor & Piece
Jessica C. Gray (she/her/hers) is transfer student double majoring in psychology and art therapy. Her medium of choice is drawing with pencil or charcoal, and she also dabbles in writing poetry and fiction. Her work highlights her unique perspective and background, along with rich social commentary and evocative subject matter.
“I wrote this poem when I was beginning my journey in recovery. During that time, I wrote a lot about trauma, and I also explored some abstract ways of conveying messages through text and visual art. This is one of the dozens of poems that I wrote during this stage in my life and it is one that I’m still really proud of. At the time, I felt it was described well by a quote from Blythe Baird’s poem, Fossilizing Trauma, where she said she writes poetry to turn the things that have happened to her into tangible objects, “so they can no longer hurt me— / they can only stare at me // which isn’t as bad, I guess.” While this poem doesn’t necessarily reflect where I am currently at in my recovery journey, I still hold on to it as a reminder of where I have been. Now I see it as a reminder that things can change, that things can get better. For me, its meaning has shifted from abject hopelessness to being a symbol of hope.
This poem helped me feel less alone when I needed it most. I hope sharing this could help someone, anyone feel like they aren’t the only person who has felt this way.
I promise things do get better.” – Jessica C. Gray