The hateful voice of my mom. The self-loathing of my dad. A narcissist of a grandpa. The insanity of grandma. Where is the love? My love was not enough. A child of family dysfunctions. I left to find myself again. You're you & me, I, full of wonders & now understand. I will love myself again.
Category: sea shells
Love again.
There's a beast yanking at its chains. I didn't understand what it's saying. "Love again. You must love again." This morning, I suddenly understand. The dead air in my head & the desperation in my so-called life, "Live again, you must begin again. Without love, you were deprived."
Apologies.
If you're a destroyer, destroy. Don't apologize. If you're a lover, fuck shit up. Don't apologize. If you're a mother, live your life, don't apologize. You're doing a thing now, you're doing the thing. The worst thing to do is to apologize for yourself.
Dreamer.
You are a dreamer who run away from the selves. Can't stay still, the beast is at your heels. Mazes & traps you built to justify your woes. The past comes due & the truth is always simple.
To be.
The voice in me are telling me different things. The way I act; the way I think; and the moments between: to know is to be God, to live is to be human.
Freedom.
Freedom is a scent that lasts half a second. It's tart and spicy and feels like a jolt of fiery lava beneath the ocean floor. It happened once or twice under crashing pressure, barely registered. But it reminded me something's alive where it matters.
Mystery.
Being open is realizing there's no barrier between you and me- we both came with a certain touch of mystery, not afraid of changing our minds giving time, letting go the notion of straight lines regarding life.
Understand.
I'm hard to live with by myself. Constant torment inside these walls. One side is hot like hell, the other side chill like death. There's a person in the middle whom I can't tell. It's a split long ago. Something to endure, not knowing what. The ship will sink, nobody can hear the screams. The horror of a brain turned outside in. Can't bear others' help. They're making it worse. Not understanding the enemy is me.
Mine.
Mom & dad say, "Why bother, a daughter belongs to someone else." They were right. I am mine.
Thankful.
I'm a woman of subtle grievance. It doesn't hurt my body none but the spirit is dragging. "Why me?" I ask, "to see all the shits?" And be unhappy like I'm the one and only. Well, well, maybe the reason's obvious but the courage is lacking or it's the little things like timing. Someday I may decide there are memories worth having, and pain & joy are one and the same.