I drop things because I don’t know where to put them. My head has long since run out of space. Since I don’t care or dare to clean up the mess that’s already there. There’s not much really, but I don’t want to pick them up and examine them as if the mere act of paying attention to them will make me less. It doesn’t make sense, I know. But I’m not a wise person, and I’m stubborn. That’s what I’m holding on to. I’m someone who chases thrills and shies away from meaningful anything. I’m afraid that I was not worthy. I’m afraid that this life was not worthy of me. Is it silly? While growing up, learning to self-appreciate reminds me that there’s no intact mirrors to look upon. Were my parents proud of me? I don’t dare to evaluate. So I’m locked inside, and I lost the key. Years, decades go by. Maybe that’s just how growing up works. We can’t learn the lessons beforehand (unless you’re wise). I used to be jealous of the people who “don’t have” to learn life the “hard” way. All I was doing was resisting learning. So it was hard. I was stubborn and not wise. I can be a little still now, so that’s progress. I’m learning to be OK with who I am not.
Category: sea shells
Diamonds.
Listen to the day,
what it has to say.
Don't force progress.
Small adjustments.
Then rest.
Hurt.
I'm out in the world looking for hurts,
for the surest way to fortify my heart.
To feel something I demonize others
who in reality don't give a fuck.
I'm not relieved that I'm left alone.
I need something from you.
What is it?
To tell the truth:
I want the version of love
I can't yet give
but must.
I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be.
Mountain top, sewage drain,
I'm where I'm meant to be yo
and you're the same.
The trust is gone, still I go on.
I'm where the stars align
only from a different satellite.
My feet wobble, missed steps,
crying shame, meet you on the way.
I'm still standing where I'm supposed to,
wouldn't you say it is fate?
For Mona.
Should.
I didn't mean to rebel & that's my fault.
Clinging to a notion of love that's
kinda heavy, kinda smells.
What you want from me is
the prison I built.
I gave you the key,
you promptly tossed.
A self-fulfilling destiny
that's hand-me-down &
one-size-fits-all.
No wonder the holes are
bloody & no one talks about.
If that's living insanity we got.
Maybe looking at yourself,
I dare you, then
see yourself out.
What happened to you?
Be loving with yourself,
even though your mother never was.
Dotting on yourself,
even though your father never did.
Listen to yourself,
even though others would not.
Don't do violence against yourself,
even when the world does.
Consider the self,
as only you could.
Illuminate your world
and heal its wounds.
What would I do if I love myself.
I would brush my hair gently
instead of hurriedly.
I'd marvel at each strand &
take care not to
break it from the root.
I'd call my parents &
tell them I love them &
there's nothing to forgive.
I'd go out more to dance &
laugh without
feeling lonely, after.
I would care less &
appreciate more.
I would perhaps
return your love &
your touch.
I would do
all the things
you say I
could do.
If I love myself.
On schedule.
I fret the next thing I have to do
as if it's an enemy,
a guard that would
herald me to my prison.
In reality,
they might be dragging me
outta mine.
I resent them anyway.
Cloud 9.
May you forget what you're afraid of.
As you float to the clouds with
murmuring but nothing more.
When you're afraid you think
too much & you build walls just
for it to crumble because you
want out.
I hope you forget what you're afraid of.
hotsurf_ 