200 followers!

So it happened, I reached 200 followers here on this little blog of mine. That is pretty cool. I wish I could think of a creative way to celebrate, but I’m drawing a blank. Maybe I’ll come up with something later this week, so for now thank you for the support in the form of following and reading and liking, I appreciate it.

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All I have is showers and coffee and writing. And sometimes I’m sure I can’t even write anymore. And sometimes the water doesn’t get hot enough. And I can’t make the coffee taste right lately. So what is there left for me?

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failing and flailing thru this life grasping for your hand but i can’t find it in the dark even though it is clearly right in front of me and you’re waiting and waiting for me to interlace my fingers with yours so that you can keep my head above water for me because it seems that you don’t want me to drown afterall perhaps because you still want to put me back together but how can you even do that when you don’t know where i’ve hidden all the glass and bloody words that used to be my heart you’re collecting them all in a pretty vase but i can never be whole again because somethings will forever be lost some girls will forever be broken and shredded

Glimmer (041819)

You give me a glimmer of hope

And I do not believe

It is false hope

Your hands linger when they shouldn’t

Where they shouldn’t

If you’re a little drunk

You’re more honest than you intend

You said you believe in me

I believe you – you were drunk

I thought about hugging you

And you hugged me

As if you knew I was thinking it

We speak without saying words at all

Your eyebrows-

And I close my eyes

And you’re right – I know

You tell me everything

When anyone looking in

Would’ve thought you were silent

R: “It’s gonna be ok.”

I don’t usually click the “create new post” button on here and write what’s on my mind, I have done so occasionally, but it is much more common for me to flip thru the pages of one of my journals and pick a poem or other short written piece that I know I haven’t published yet and throw it up on here. But once in a while I need the feeling of my thumb flying across the screen of my smart phone, trying to tell as much as I can of whatever story literally just happened to me. Tonight there is one of those stories, but the words are getting stuck somewhere, maybe in my biceps, and aren’t making it to my thumbs. In the past 3 hours I’ve cried 4 times. I felt like a burden on the people who were being so generous and giving me a ride, I felt like a nuisance as I stated my opinion and my experience while surrounded by a group of women who are more mature than me both in physical years and in faith, I had an outburst when the topic of discussion hit close to home, I wanted to tell a story but there wasn’t time, and by defending my crazy I only made myself appear more crazy. I’m sure whatever I said tonight was incoherent and I can’t explain it away. And yesterday in an effort to just enjoy a conversation with a friend, I gave her all sorts of details that it seems she is collecting in order to pass judgement on my life choices and recommend all sorts of ways to fix my life. Well, the truth is lady, i just wanted to have another adult to talk to, I didn’t need for you to tell me that I need to be on meds for my mental illness and for you to claim youve seen my behavioral extremes, when really you’ve only ever seen me depressed, some days I just don’t let the depression crush my whole day and I am able to laugh and I don’t lock myself inside my house for weeks at a time, just because I put on clean clothes and earrings does not mean my depression is gone and just because I talk about something I am excited about does not mean I am having a manic episode. But this post is just more incoherent crazy person babble, reinforcing that I am in fact having some sort of episode related to my mental illness. Eff it, Im too tired to fix me right now, tomorrow has a chance and so do i.

Frantic (041918)

My heart beats faster

Than it should

As i lay next to you

And i notice a change in your breath

It’s ’cause we both know we want more

Than just laying next to each other

And we know we’ll give in

To a certain point

Suddenly your lips are nearly touching

My lips

And you make no move to move away

And i ask you if you wish you could kiss me

You take a few nervous breaths

Before you answer-

Yes and more (i’m paraphrasing)

And then we let everything happen

Except the kiss

And everything else you said

Micro

Like all the little things you do

How you ask me how i’m doing

How you encourage me to get out of bed

How you let me know when you’ll be home

How you celebrate my small wins

Though those are even few and far between

i lose more than i win

Always failing

And i forget to see

Your micro love

And all that you do for me

True love isn’t in the grand gestures

It’s in the everyday ones

And in the way you softly say,

“hey”

Foreign (041018)

it’s like we don’t even speak the same

language anymore

like we’re strangers

who’ve always known each other

but pretend not to

because being true

telling the truth

we would risk getting hurt

i used to be able to take that risk with

you

used to let you in

but maybe i did it for the wrong reason

i thought if i let you in

that you would do the same for me

always expectations

how do i let go

of wanting you to love me?

Suddenly (031018)

And suddenly I loved you.

I know I should have always,

I just didn’t though.

You loved me too soon

and I loved you too late.

If only we could have met in the middle.

And suddenly we are finding out what we mean

to each other.

I can’t hear the truth because it will break

my heart

my hope

my “us”.

I hold on too tight;

teach me to let go.

Reflecting on My Metaphor

i am a typewriter and someone else is pressing the keys

i am a match that won’t light

i am yarn, frayed and unraveling

i am glue that never dries

i am words written backwards

i am a stone that can’t skip

i am lukewarm coffee

i am a pen out of ink

i am an empty spool of thread

i am a threadbare sweater

i am a left sock without a right

i am a flower, always wilting

i am written in an unspoken language

i am all consonants and no vowels

i am a broken vase, not yet mended with gold

i am a butterfly with broken wings

i am an owl without voice

i am loaded scales with no counter weights