Don’t Worry About It

You can only break down so much, until you have no choice but to rebuild.

I was standing on my foundation with pieces in my hand and destruction surrounding me. My home was nothing but a bare concrete slab and when my neighbors took notice, all they did was draw their blinds. It was then I understood, I was the product of my own environment.

So I left.

All I wanted was some fresh air. I ventured far off of the path that I have grown comfortable with and created a new one as I walk between the trees. I’ve been chasing sunlight and I get closer and closer every day.

I needed to hear the wind through the leaves, fell the rain on my face, and get distance. I was too focused on listening to the needs of others, but out here, all I can hear is my thoughts telling me everything is okay.

I’m quite certain that I will never go back, feeling the warm sun on my face, the sand underneath my feet, and the smile on my face, I am at peace.

I will not wander forever, eventually I will find a garden to plant myself in and thrive, but for now, I’d like to be here and no where at all.

Open My Eyes

You cannot truly see, until you open your eyes to things that you don’t wish to view and unfortunately, the world is an ugly place. This is something I have recently come to terms with, just because you want something, does not mean that you will get it.

The only thing I wanted was a place in this world. A group of friends to care about me and carry me through struggles, but I left. When I came back, it was different, I was different and I kept attempting to squeeze myself right back into a home that I out grew simply because it was comfortable.

Yeah, they are still my friends, but they are not my people.

Since then, I have found a new place to belong, a smaller circle. It’s just the two of us, sometimes three, and when my brother is in town, four. And as the months go on, we slowly accumulate more.

I’ve discovered that there is no where else I would rather be than riding shot gun and listening to a shared playlist and joking each other on the small things. Often times, we do not know where we are going, but we are all in the same boat.

The Price of Living

I’m not going to lie, life is hard.

Everything comes with a price and often, people come up short. Rather it be on rent, happiness, or relationships. It’s ironic how we do not ask to live, and yet, here we are paying to keep living.

And yes, life can be rewarding, but it comes with patience and time. However, to get to a peak, you go through devastation, trama, error, break ups, loss of friends, death of loved ones, and so much more.

To be honest, it isn’t really worth it sometimes.

I will be the first to say that getting through life is not easy, BUT, it is worth struggling with the right people by your side because I have found that in my darkest times, they were able to pick me up and make me smile.

Without struggling through life, I would have never realized who was there for me and who wasn’t. I have met the best people during my biggest storms and I am glad to say that they are still here with me today.

So, the price of living is expensive, but the experiences that you have throughout it, makes it all worth it.

Singing In The Shower

Today, I caught myself singing in the shower.

Yeah, It doesn’t seem like a big deal, but it is.

Truth is, I haven’t been in sync with my body for a few months now, suffering from depression, most things look like a shade of black to me. It’s something that I have been working on, and excelling. Every day when I look in the mirror I recognize more of myself.

I am becoming more and more public about my mental health, after being silent on it for so long, it began to feel like a dirty secret. When it is not shameful to have a mental disorder, they are as common as an actual cold. Everyone in their lifetime will experience depression, anxiety, and panic.

Singing in the shower is a small victory, but I will take it. A sweet, sweet victory – yeah.

 

 

The Little Things

Keep track of the little things, good or bad, in the end, they add up.

Notice the way someone cares for you and how they react when you care for them. See the smile grow across their face or the lack of acknowledgement of you going out of your way for them. When you’re down, are they there to comfort you or are they there to boast about themselves? Notice the way that they move, it could be helpful but it can also be harmful.

Pay attention to the communication, often, it can become one sided. You can find yourself giving everything and getting nothing in return. Or, maybe, you’ll find a perfect balance. Pay attention to how they speak to you, how they speak to strangers, your family, and their family. Silence says more than verbal words do.

Look at how they treat you, both in the public eye and behind doors. You can treat them like a trophie and they could treat you like a secret. Look at how they treat your friends, look at how they treat your family, look how they treat your dog.

It may seem like all of these things, don’t matter but little things are often overlooked because, after all, they are small actions. In the end, they have a lot to say about someone. I’ll keep counting.

 

Saying Goodbye To 2018

As the last twenty-four hours of 2018 ticks by, I’m grateful to say goodbye to the highs and lows and greet a brand new year.

Goodbye to all of the people that I’ve left behind, I could no longer hold onto a one way friendship. Goodbye to people that I have loved, I finally learned that the idea of someone is not them.

Goodbye to all of the negativity that I allowed my head to cloud up with, it’s too heavy to carry now. Goodbye to my anxiety that keeps me from pursuing my dreams and living my life. Goodbye to my depression that weighs me down.

I’ll clutch onto the things I treasure the most as we enter the New Year. Things I can’t, and won’t, let go.

I’m grateful for a new found happiness in myself. I’m grateful for the wagging tail that always hollows at me in the morning. I’m grateful for the friendships I’ve made, the friends I’ve kept, and the love I’ve found.

2019, that’s all I ask for, to hold onto those little things for another year. Happy New Year.

Healing

I’ve never been in the position of where I wanted to better myself for the benefit of someone else, and now here I am.

I’m sitting on the floor of my bedroom, using my mirror to put together the pieces of myself once again and it feels great. I spent so long picking off pieces of myself to give to people and, finally, I’ve taken them back. My own real smile is staring back at me, I haven’t seen it since 2009.

My thought process, isn’t great, considering I constantly worry about nothing and I second guess everything in my life. It’s taken it’s toll on me and I’m sure there are some pieces that I won’t get back.

But I’m healing. I’m finding new flowers to stick in the missing parts of me and I’m content living in their vines, stealing parts of their sunshine.

Slowly, I can feel my old self returning in a brand new way.

But that’s what happens when someone shows you your self worth, you start to see it too.

Depression

It was tempting once he came around, his dark eyes followed me everywhere and at first, it was only flirtation. The more often he’d come around, the more I felt drawn to him, he was like a flame that burnt out long ago without a trace of smoke.

I became infatuated with the thought of living in the darkness with him. Dancing underneath the moonlight, scaring others for the thrill of it. I was already hurting and he became my outlet to relive pain.

And when I was there, I didn’t understand it. Nothing made me feel better, not the knives against my skin, not the burning alcohol I poured down my throat, and not the pills I took by the hand fulls. He wore a mask, and when it was too late for me to turn back, he took it off.

He holds me down, covers me in darkness and I’ll sleep for hours at a time. When I look into a mirror, there he is, standing behind me telling me how ugly I am. He lingers in my mind, constantly taunting me and feeding me false information, forcing me to recluse into isolation.

He suffocates me with hot air in a panic attack. In my dreams, he gives me nightmares to live. He manipulates me into self destruction and self harm.

He thrives off of negativity and sadness, without it, he can’t win.

And when the sun comes up the next day, I lie there on the floor shaking from the night before covered in tears, alcohol, and blankets waiting to see what he has in store for me today.

Writer In The Dark

I’m sure that there will come a time where you regret kissing me that warm night in the summer because you didn’t know, you kissed a writer in the dark.

Now I’ve locked those moments inside of my heart and when the sun sinks down low enough, my finger tips begin to bleed as I type out our story.

I’ll find way to be without you, babe.

You’ve consumed every part of me. My thoughts are no longer my own, it’s an endless loop of stories of your smile because, after all, you’re my muse.

I love you now, I’ll love you then, and even when you’re gone, I’ll love you still.

In my darkest hour, I stumble all around the town just looking for a glimpse of you. I’ll see you in everyone’s faces and they’ll call the cops on me.

I’ll love you until my breathing stops because all I ever did was exist for you. I’m my mother’s child, after all. Chasing a broken dream of a fairy tale.

And in that darkest hour, I’ll stumble onto a secret power and I will find a way to be without you, babe. When you see me next there will be a smile and you can tell your friends that I’ve changed.

Now I love it here, living and breathing on my own, since I stopped needing you. I’m a writer in the dark, who only needed to see the light.

Writer In The Dark by Lorde

Versions Of Me

I’ve come to terms with the fact that multiple versions of me exist, and that some of these, no longer exist. The boxes inside of my closet remind me of who I was at various points in time and I’ll keep those pieces of me, even if they are no longer alive. Because I am a lot more than I think I am.

I’m a fighter, coming home with bruises on my knuckles and cut up cheeks with a victorious smile and a suspension slip in my right hand. Only now, I fight for better reasons. I fight myself every day to stay alive.

I’m an artist covered in paint, wearing ratty old clothes and attempting to find a new space on my crowded wall for a beautiful piece. Now, I admire art in museums and speak of the color schemes.

I’m an althete, weighed down in metals and trophies of accomplishments from soccer tournaments and school sports team patches. Now, I kick the ball once a week if I’m lucky and instead of chasing a ball, I’m chasing my dreams.

I’m a reader with endless possibilities of escapes into deep literature and an evergrowing library stocked with literary classics. Now, dust collects on them and when I have time, I’ll brush it off.

I am collectively all of these things and none at all. Because these pieces, these small portions of who I was, got me to who I am today. I’ll never know if the now version of me will be the last, but I’ll keep on stacking the boxes up until I’m full.