I want my life a certain way. I can’t just WAIT for that to happen to me. That was my childhood. That is what is not going to happen now. I have to make the changes myself. Why is it so difficult???
Being stuck for years doesn’t have to mean death.
I think it is the feeling of being mentally stuck
that keeps us the stuck for the longest
the most deadly of all stucks.
We get these bursts of living every now and then
and surge forward with them
and then are surprised when we trip over a log in the middle of a cement parking lot.
Expect and equip.
You have it in you.
Candy coated sugar kings,
we tell ourselves our own jokes
by looking in the mirror.
Would I rather be tin man
instead of feeling these highs and lows?
Maybe I just sit on my gold chair
alittle longer each time,
waiting out the anticipation
of falling into mud again.
Is happiness more for the good people?
The way you like it like this,
but can’t say the words.
The way it’ll throw you off course
You Tell me that at Least.
while your back against the plaid
that you gave me
How many years ago now?
Time trickles through the system
and we absorb and believe
that One Day,
we will tell it truly,
How we Like it.
And the Course,
will forever be Changed.
When I have a heavy heart
I don’t feel fat or off the scale.
I feel my blood veins disjointed
And dragon sadness of a tail.
A heart with weight,
can also mean pure and full
Like explosion works of fire,
that create the half that makes the whole.
And if my heart is solid,
like that soulfire around your way,
I know we will be complete
before we start our stay.
How do you leave something you love?
What about someone?
They are still nouns I suppose.
But a cave isn’t the same as a person
no matter how deep they can both be.
They are both nouns.
But one makes you feel more then the other.
Is that the difference?
It must be.
But maybe that’s just the adjectives talking to my noun heart
and making me feel adverbly a lot like a simile.
So much so,
that I become.
My insides evaporate and I become what I feel.
I am Alone and Full of Love. I am Full of Emptiness and Helplessness and I am the Panic that begins to flood all of this and it’s making me Sick and Lost and I’m Fumbling for Communication. I am ready to shrink and ready to burst and nothing is good.
But it is right.
Because this is what happens when our feelings consume us.
I don’t wonder how I got to this position in my life. Strictly dealing with relationships and not the firey one I’m in the continual process of adding gasoline to.
It makes entire sense to me knowing I am here because I have chosen it. I have chosen to be here. It sucks to admit but it feels good to. I’m taking responsibility. Not to say I’m not taking responsability for the other areas of my life. I just could foresee this one panning out the way it did.
I remember thinking years ago, from time to time that eventually, it was all going to blow up in my face. And this isn’t just a little ‘ I want my sucker NOW,’ blow up- I’m talking an entire life upheaval that I knew would have me on my knees and in bed for days. I didn’t eat a thing for TWO weeks, for goodness sake. I knew this would happen back then but I told myself I would worry about it once it happened.
Afterall I knew I couldn’t go on forever with one foot in my relationships. I couldn’t keep lying – to myself or to others-till the end of time, but I didn’t know how to stop. So I kept choosing the bad – out of pure laziness I might add- settling myself with the fact that the blow up would change things.
And it has.
I used to think this space sucked. A LOT. But no. It’s just different. I haven’t experienced anything like this in my life. I’ve cried a lot, drank a lot, drank not a lot,danced a lot, cooked a lot, been alone a lot, read a lot, hated myself, loved myself, learned and growed… it’s been really shitty at times but motivating myself is kind of a cool feeling.
It’s silly that I had to have the initial push forced upon me. But that’s how I work. Or should say, USED to work.
I’m taking initiative and figuring that in the future I don’t need a big crash like this to kick my butt in gear.
I don’t love this place, no..but you know what guys, I would take this place over the place I was at, anyday.
Life before the life crash: I was in denial. I made myself believe I was happy,carefree and full of friendship. But really, I was just livable to myself.
Now I can say I’m lovable to myself.
And that’s a fact worth living.
This was two days before’ The End.‘Or maybe one day. I can’t- nor does it:: really. Matter.
I just fricken did it.
You came over and I sat on your lap, we kissed, cuddled, and looked into each other.
and you say,
” I just got here!” because I have started speaking.
” I must say this now, ” I speak. “We’ve got to make a decision.”
And on I on and I make blathery and I am surprised and impressed with how straight forward and honest and real it all comes out. I’m usually a sucker for winding my words up all wrong once they fall out of my mouth.
But today I was collected and had direction.
You spoke a few observations and thoughts.
” I feel you’re wanting an answer now so that you can go out there and just find someone.”
Your underestimation for my love for you is as bad as my judgement on how many jellybeans are in a jar-even if there are only 12 .
I made a few more comments and you leaned back quickly and I heard your teeth grind and I knew i had oversold the positive. Within a few minutes you were hugging me hard and giving me a kiss on the cheek and walking to vehicle.
At first I was bothered. You were leaving after hearing something you didn’t like. Couldn’t you talk to me about it? We’re adults, I understand we’ve all got to get better at communicating, but when’s the bloody time to start? Certainly not now?! Heaven forbid!
A few more thoughts down the line, I realized yeah, it had got you heated, and you had the sense to leave before lashing out.
And after THAT thought was: that’s still a negative- unable to deal with those feelings and just walking out. Concluding this fast plane of thought was that yes I know this and I love you and that working on this is something you are capable of.
But this all is lathered in the suds of, ‘ but to which extent? ‘
My tastebuds linger of yours
The smell of your scent that always seems to stay the same
My hands in your hair, wrapped around the strands I braided for fun
16 months ago.
You had opened up the door before I had even reached it
shut it and you stepped out and you took two steps toward me
with a pained expression on your face
and for a second, I thought you were going to hit me.
But you sweeped me up without caution
and pulled me so close
your arms around my back, my legs around your hips
your hands moved under the back of my shirt
just to feel my skin.
Your hands moved to my head
feeling the tangles of my hair
to my face you felt my cheekbones
and I whelmed right up to the brim
and then it spilled over.