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Thoughts, emotions, poetry and the works

The Cold

Sitting in an empty room
filled with heat,
hugging you close,
feeling secure,
feeling comfortable,
feeling calm.

A lick of a breeze passes by,
the air turns one degree colder than before,
the cold creeps in ever so slowly,
where is it coming from?
This room has no doors,
windows or crevices.

But the warmth is escaping
leaving in its midst
the cold.
The cold ebbing towards
the tips of my fingers and toes,
they say the extremities go first.

The cold creeping up on you in the dark,
like shadows dancing on the walls,
sneaking up on me when my back is turned.
The cold creeps ever so slowly,
clinging to the material woven in to string,
string into cloth,
cloth into clothes.
The cold vile and unseen
but it’s presence ever felt.
I know its there.
I can’t move.
Can’t block it out.
Any movement creates a vacuum of space
pulling the cold ever closer.

It’s a losing game it is,
the one we fight with the cold.
Before you know it,
even in the warm months,
it will slowly find its way back,
shocking my system
worse than I remembered it could be,
the warmer months were just a false pretense of gullibility.

So I welcome back those glacial winters,
with my warm arms open
heat escaping me,
into the waiting cold.
Cause it’s waiting.
And before I know it,
its here.

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The Winners

Some people at school are aggressive. Overly, aggressive. Their goal is to dominate the yard, showing everyone who they are, what they are capable and putting you in your spot. Some people at school are just not nice.

I don’t understand why we need to tear each other down. The human brain has the tendency to want to trust one another and to build each other up. It even rewards us with a rush of dopamine when this trust pays off. We innately should have a altruistic tendency to want to help each other, but where has this gene disappeared to?

Where have all the good, kind, caring people gone. The type of people who look at you without judgement, maybe offer you are hand when they see you struggling without you having to ask? Where have the people who ask you with genuine concern how you are doing and if you are doing ok? Where have the people who build each other up gone?

Why have people become this race of individuals who feel its ok to tear each other down, ripping a person limb from limb just so they can stand on the first-place podium. Don’t these people realize that when you tear everyone down just to get to the top, there will be no one left to cheer for you and congratulate you on your success?

Lesson from this: Be kind, ask people how they are, take the time to listen, and go do something nice for someone just to make their day. Be aware of the people around you and how your presence affects them.

Feel

I don’t know if I’m the type of person that feels too much or too little.
When my family is supposed to be there for me and act like a family and fail to do so,
is it wrong that it makes me sad the rest of the day?
That I spend a lot of time asking myself if they would care if I was around or not?
Is it bad that I know the answers to these questions already?

Is it bad when my love expresses his love, his care, and his concern for me
I feel nothing?
And that I’m aware I feel nothing,
just his words deflecting off my skin without my ability to control what seeps past
my “tough” exterior.

I want to feel what I can’t and stop feeling what I do.
It’s a never ending inner war I fight with myself on the daily.

All I do feel is I’m spiralling out of control,
as if another person has snuck behind the steering wheel,
now taking the reigns of my life.

Our Long Distance Relationship

I saw you today. It had been 2 months since the last time you saw me.
You gave me a small peck on my lips but that’s it.
We walked around and our plans slowly unfolded
into moments where you flashed around money
you didn’t have,
then followed by complaints of going to areas where people are.
Is it so bad that I want to be in a place so many people enjoy,
nothing unreasonable,
but I can’t even get comfortable looking in one store in a mall,
the whole time I can feel your discomfort,
restlessness, and stress.

We went for a short walk,
something you never want to do and complain about doing
after only 5 minutes of doing so.
But yet you say it’s a nice day and you want to
spend it outside.

At dinner there are long pauses,
I don’t know what to say,
the whole time all I can think is thank god I have this
good food in front of me and in front of you
because its the only thing keeping our mouths busy
from having to acknowledge the growing silence.

I notice another couple across from us,
the man brushes hair away from his partner’s face.
Another man gently touches his partner’s lower back
guiding her to their table.
But all you did was give me a small peck on the lips today.
You walk in front of me or behind me
an extra piece of evidence to show we are growing further apart.

I don’t know what else to say to you.
But I’m scared to tell you it’s over.
I’m scared to tell you I don’t think I feel the same.
I’m scared to shatter your life,
since you told me I’m the only good thing keeping you going.
So instead, I shatter me own.

They say love is sacrifice,
but how much of me am I willing to give?

First Impressions

They say your external appearance reflects who you are.
I used to have coiffed, glassy, french tip nails,
lacquered to perfection.
Each tip filed to the smoothest of shapes.
Since then,
my nails are deformed, chipped, and in dire need of a good manicure.

My hair used to tumble past my shoulders,
in perfect locks of curls,
thick and luscious,
strong and soft.
Now my hair is frizzy, tangled, matted, breaking, coarse and falling out.

I used to outline my eyes with bold crisp lines of kohl liner,
lashes flicked out as they framed my
bright green eyes.
Now my eyes are bare, ill-looking, lacking the luster
and playfulness they once held.

I’ve lost myself,
and what was once shiny and new,
radiant sunshine and positivity,
has escaped me,
leaving behind someone unrecognizable.

Identity

I remember asking you if you were ok.
I asked you if you were ok and I still helped you when you said you were. Because I knew.
I knew that people needed help when they said they didn’t.
I knew that at the age of 4.

I also knew that you had to be nice to people and so I helped you because I learned it was not good to be sad and so I felt the need to be a protector.
It was my job to protect everyone at the age of 4.
But who protected me?

I would help people and I was blind to the pieces of me that were falling away,
pieces of me I can’t get back to this day,
pieces of me which are lost and I now seek to find.
I’ve been searching for those pieces of myself for a long time.

But those pieces of me have been lost for a long time. They have been trampled upon and buried deep beneath the residue of dusty thoughts
lurking at the corners of my mind.

I think I’ve given to much of myself away,
to the point that I’m no longer myself,
I have nothing left to define myself.
Nothing left to bind the lost pieces to if they ever were found.

Who am I.

Hold On

I find myself clenching my teeth in my sleep,
flexing my back in anticipation,
all muscle tight in my neck,
no part of me relaxed,
my every nerve on edge.

I anticipate the pain I’m going to cause,
too afraid to cause,
to you.

I anticipate the loneliness,
the close friend who got behind my walls,
I’ll lose.

I anticipate the late nights,
the ever quiet days
and nights
I’ll lay awake.

I anticipate a decrease in faith,
a lack of trust
as my walls grow ever higher
a place for me to
forever hide behind.

Why does holding on to the one thing I love
hurt so much?

Dance

We used to dance,
listening to the gypsy kings,
me balanced on your
tip-toes,
twirling round and round.

We used to dance.
Now we dance around the past.
We dance around your dances
with mama
dances that lasted hours.

Your dances were an elegant craft
one of contact,
a methodology so no one would see.
A dance so intricate,
people would bleed to see it,
you’d leave them breathless.

Arms outstretched,
fingers splayed,
across necks,
windpipes,
wrists,
and torsos.
You’d would dance with us.

A dance so different,
it morphed into
a normative form
of lies twisted
delicately around my feet,
like the phone cords
pulled from the walls.

Your delicate touch used to
twirl me,
spin me round.
It did just that,
in spun my life,
my thoughts,
my perceptions,
into a silk weave
of hate.

Anger.
Distrust.
A permanent form of
caution tape
weaving through my veins.
No one can pass.
You may not pass.
I won’t let you in.

Need

What are we all hiding from?
Why does it become uncomfortable to make eye contact with one another today,
to acknowledge another person’s being in the same room as you?
Why do we feel the need to hide behind our phones and pull ourselves away
from the natural tendency to be social?
Where has the need to be social gone?
Does is disappear with each shot and sip of liquor people intake these days?
Or with the disappearing length of a dragged cigarette?
Is it hiding in the computers our faces are constantly buried behind,
or the books we read,
removing us from this world completely into another one?
Why has life turned into a permanent bystander effect of inaction?

What do you have to hide?
Are the emotions you feel any different from those I feel?
But no instead we draw into ourselves or pull back
behind our fakes smiles
and fail to connect.
We fail to meet eyes. Fail to acknowledge things people are going through,
isolating ourselves from everyone elses happiness and pain.

Why?
What has happened to everyone?
Are people all loosing their voices,
unable to speak the need for a friend,
someone to listen,
someone to care?

Or maybe it’s just me.
In my isolated world.
Trying to make connections but failing to.
Sincerity mistaken for a fake friendliness,
leaving me stranded to my thoughts.
Weekends of lonesomeness.
Days, hours, minutes,
never ending seconds spent alone.

I don’t want anymore of this thing we call
“me time”
I have too much of it.
My thoughts always churning below each muscle
flexing beneath my skin.

I’ve always been told I have tough skin,
but I want permeable skin now.
I need to let it out,
I need to let it in.
I need.

Mental Health Days

We all have our ups and our downs, today was an up. Although I was sick, and very tired, I still managed to put a stressful week behind me. Gone were the law firm job applications, the research paper, the article, the volunteer training, the boyfriend’s visit. Gone were the lovely (not so lovely) time of the month days, and gone were at least the body aches and pounding migraines from this atrocious head cold.

Today was a day of reflection. I sat down and was able to see a lovely ground of girls I felt comfortable around to be myself and calls friends in this little town. Gone was the drama, welcomed with just relaxed chit chat about the hilarious people at school and just life in general.

It was a good day. A day where I hope to come back to this moment on my not so good days and be able to reflect that I can at least come back to a time where I feel centered. Maybe I wasn’t perfectly happy today, because lets face it I’m now worried if I’ll get a job or not, and that I’m homesick a little, but I feel more centered than I have in a while.

I know that feeling will pass. I can already feel the shadows ebbing into my peaceful night threatening to erase this moment, but I refuse to succumb to it and let it in tonight. So much that I even decided to pick up my guitar and sing a little with my cracking voice that sounds so out of key with this cold. But I don’t care. I won’t care. I’m just going to try to live in this moment and hopefully have a good nights sleep.

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