Risk

I often wonder what it feels like

to be you

A lyric stolen from a song

A line of a poem

never to be published

The intangible things

are somehow just as critical

as the ones

screaming at you.

The crimson red flags

you choose not to trust

at first

How does it feel to be perceived

as a risk

to someone else’s well-being?

How does it feel

to be perceived at all?

Friends

Friends, you said

friends is what you’d like to be.

My friendship means the world to you,

you said.

Another reason

why trusting people’s words

never comes easy to me.

Maybe your

definition of friendship

is different than mine.

Friends don’t hurt

each other-

At first I considered

taking you up on this friendship option-

Yes, please, I said.

And instantly regretted it.

You said,

not yet,

anyway.

Maybe someday.

Fuck you.

Somebody Else

This morning, I was driving to the gym before work like I have been each morning the past couple of weeks. The radio was on my favorite alternative rock station, 93.3. It’s usually a calm, peaceful, short drive. A song came on, and it sounded like a song from the 80’s, kind of Depeche Mode-esque. It hit a cord in me,  even though I hadn’t really listened to the lyrics yet. I “shazamed” it and listened to it on Spotify as I was working out. “Somebody Else” by The 1975.

And. It. Hit Me.

Emotions I have been trying to avoid for the last 4-5 months. Sometimes I allow them to come up to the surface. But then I tell myself that I “shouldn’t” be sad about it, and he doesn’t deserve my tears, and blah blah blah. I tell myself I’m over it. I tell myself I’m over the last one, just like I’m over the one before, and the one before that. But this song brought up the emotions of all of them. The same sense of abandonment, of hurt, of being replaced by somebody else. And as I write this, I don’t know what else to say. I’m at work, and I will not allow the emotions to get as far as letting tears out. Maybe I’m not over it. Maybe there will always be a missing piece of my heart, maybe three pieces. Three tears I’ll save for you.

So I heard you found somebody else
And at first I thought it was a lie
I took all my things that make sounds
The rest I can do without
I don’t want your body
But I hate to think about you with somebody else
Our love has gone cold
You’re intertwining your soul with somebody else
I’m looking through you while you’re looking through your phone
And then leaving with somebody else
No, I don’t want your body
But I’m picturing your body with somebody else
Come on baby
This ain’t the last time that I’ll see your face
Come on baby
You said you’d find someone to take my place
I just don’t believe that you have got it in you ’cause
We are just gonna keep ‘doin’ it’ and everytime
I start to believe in anything you’re saying
I’m reminded that I should be getting over it
I don’t want your body
But I hate to think about you with somebody else
Our love has gone cold
You’re intertwining your soul with somebody else
I’m looking through you while you’re looking through your phone
And then leaving with somebody else
No, I don’t want your body
But I’m picturing your body with somebody else
I don’t want your body, I don’t want your body
I don’t want your body, I don’t want your body
I don’t want your body, I don’t want your body
Get someone you love?
Get someone you need?
Fuck that, get money
I can’t give you my soul ’cause we’re never alone
Get someone you love?
Get someone you need?
Fuck that, get money
I can’t give you my soul ’cause we’re never alone
Get someone you love?
Get someone you need?
Fuck that, get money
I can’t give you my soul ’cause we’re never alone
Get someone you love?
Get someone you need?
Fuck that, get money
I can’t give you my soul ’cause we’re never alone
I don’t want your body
But I hate to think about you with somebody else
Our love has gone cold
You’re intertwining your soul with somebody else
I’m looking through you while you’re looking through your phone
And then leaving with somebody else
No, I don’t want your body
But I’m picturing your body with somebody else

Blogging

This, my “blog”, has become a little bit of a burden. I feel like there might be a better word to explain it, but “burden” fits it for now. I’ve had it since 2013, and have used it for many different purposes. But now I feel like it’s just sitting here, wasting away, because I don’t know how to use it, what to write about, who my audience is, and all of these questions keep burdening me to the point where I just don’t write for it anymore.

I have a private blog that I write in almost every day- just super random thoughts, notes, reminders, etc. I also journal still. But writing for a public-ish audience still frightens me.

I definitely miss the days of writing papers for school. Researching topics, Writing about the potential meanings of books… Learning about the world and exploring it deeper by expressing myself on paper.

Now that I’m not in school and I have a job and busy schedule, it’s hard to find the time to just sit down and write, let alone think of a compelling topic to write about. I think writing solely about myself must be a bore. But then again, the purpose is for me getting my voice out there, and finding my vibe along the way. I can’t give up. I can’t lose hope. I’m just going to keep writing.

Reminder

Just in case you forgot…. “You can measure your worth by your dedication to your path not by your successes or failures. You can battle your demons instead of battling your gifts- in part by realizing that your demons were never the ones doing the work, anyhow. You can believe that you are neither a […]

Scents

I’ve lost so many friends this year. And I wonder, is it my fault? And I don’t want to know the answer to that question. Is it because we were never truly friends in the first place? Is it because nothing is real anymore? People place so much value on their social media accounts and appearances. Nothing is real anymore. Forced. Fake. Fragile. Broken. No one wants to share their broken pieces and let others help them mend them back together. Pride. We are all broken. Lost. Lonely. Scared. I can smell it, the putrid fragrance that develops densely, deep within the bones. The scent pierces my nostrils, envelopes my lungs, sneaks into my pores. It becomes me, and I become it. I take it on. It conforms me.

Empowerment of the Day

My motivation/empowerment/mantra for the day…

I am a fucking badass rock star. I just went through one of the most difficult things anyone will EVER go through, an 18 month confrontational therapy based therapeutic community. I’m deprogramming and getting back into the real world, socializing, contemplating, living, planning, working, breathing, staying sober, praying, laughing, singing, dancing, writing, reading, loving, sharing, bonding, being. It’s all up to me now. I create my destiny, I desire myself and my future, I see myself finally. Sure, sometimes I get anxiety and fear that fills me up to the brim until I start to leak, but I breathe and live through it without destroying myself.

My life is my message, my life is my lesson. I will never cower away from it again. I will never shrink down again. I will stand up and hold my head high. I won’t allow you to be a part of my life or plan unless you have something positive and meaningful to bring to the table. I can be a bitch now, I give myself permission. I won’t allow you to take up space in my life or head if your intentions are to use me, if your intentions are dishonest and below mediocre. I can tell now, and I won’t allow it to move on a stagnant, meaningless level. I’m not ignorant, I’m not stupid, I’m not shallow, I’m not weak, I’m not that girl anymore. I’m a wise young woman with a head full of knowledge and a heart full of pure amazingness. I am beautiful not only on the outside, but on the inside as well. I literally cannot be stopped, and that is the most exhilarating feeling in the universe. I am my own universe. Sometimes I can’t help but let the words flow freely, and share them with the universe, because a little part of myself is transferred and I get positivity transferred back. Thank God I had the courage to make that one decision that would influence the rest of my life, and I am living it.

Vulnerability

What do you do when the anxiety you have for no known reason fills your stomach up to your neck up to your head with an unbearable weight which weighs you down with the sensation of sloth, an inability to move or act and all you can do is just sit there and stare? All you can think about is how anxious you are because that is all you can feel, a mad cycle attached with immense difficulty to escape. Surveillance is a substantial way to be brought out of this. When one is being watched, especially by a superior or boss, one must at least act like they are busy or getting work done. When one is around equals, there is a “fitting in” aspect, a joining of a conversation or activity. Both of these can usually get yourself out of your head full of maddening anxiety. Right now I am sitting at a desk writing about it, which probably looks like I’m working to the naked eye of a passerby. But sometimes writing about it exacerbates the anxiety because you are focusing your mind more in on it, the problem at hand. Yet it does help the understanding of it a little more. “Know thyself.”

Vulnerability scares me. I’m afraid to show people my words. I’m afraid of what they think. Have I put myself on too high of a pedestal? What if I’m not up to par? My words are my vulnerability, a complete expression of me. Maybe I don’t want people to know me. Maybe I like to keep people at a safe distance- not necessarily to keep myself safe from them, but to keep them safe from me.

My Journey…

So, I don’t really know who reads this… I don’t advertise this site/blog to barely any of my friends, it seems to intimate for that. But I feel comfortable with the blogging community, maybe because they don’t know me on a personal level. Sometimes it’s easier to share with strangers and fellow writers. And there’s just some things I need to get out/explain. I have not posted anything here for literally 18 months. Why, you ask? I was in an 18 month structured therapeutic community for addiction and alcohol dependency. I went without social media literally for a year and a half. It wasn’t allowed- no facebook, no email, no nothing online.

Now I’m back, and getting online now is almost overwhelming. I want to get back into reading and writing… It’s my passion, it’s who I am… While I was gone it seemed like a lot of my passion and motivation for this creativity dissipated. I did a lot of work on myself, though. Picking back up on this has been a little more difficult than I foresaw. A lot of what I used to write was inspired by fear, hurt, shame, loss…. I feel that when I tap back into that, my creativity flows easier and smoother; it’s more profound. But I also want to be inspired to write when I’m happy, feeling blessed and excited.

I’m still on a journey of finding myself… What do I want? Who am I? Who do I want to be? Right now I’m just going through the motions… making sure I stay sober, making sure my maladaptive thoughts don’t get in my way, making sure I have my priorities right… What a crazy, unexpected, long, and amazing journey this has been and will continue to be.

Something

“Stream-of-consciousness writing a la Jack Kerouac is a meditation tool. Writing about regrets over the past or fears of the future, no.”

Feelings hypnotize unsatisfied ruler of my brain. Please don’t come down here there is really something wrong with my brain. Today, at least. Well, most days. Unconventional, unacceptable as “normal” let me apologize now before you decide to run away. Sometimes I wish I could run away, take a vacation and escape from the pounding confusion, lifting the fog that’s in my head. I used to be afraid to showcase these things, people wouldn’t understand. But still face to face I have to pretend that I belong in this world with these socially acceptable behaviors. I really have no idea what to do.