Must find my way

past these festering

hateful habits

As they

spiral into

character flaws.

Standing helpless

memorizing every

move made.

Meticulous

self

manipulation,

Like cold

breezes on

snowy days.

Must make it past these days. 

-----------------------------

You mustn't repeat it in order to declare it a "lesson learned."

I wonder... Is everyone so moved by music? Not necessarily music, but lyrics. I am a sucker for good writing. 

Tears stream down my cheeks, hot, for a well wriitten song with heart. Even if I can't pull from experience, I emphathize with the sentiment. Is that common?

It's probably completely ordinary. 

I'm not looking, anticipating... I'm just waiting--as the rivers's waters move patiently with its current. 

I'm just waiting for someone to see me. 

And, I suppose growth is certain when you no longer need anyone to know that growth is certain. 

I won't have to tell "you"--"you" will just know. 

These are my exclaimations, proclamations, expectations... All of my aspirations. No more selling short; I'll give myself freely to the worthy. 

It happened to all of me.

I felt our walls come down–
we scrambled as they crumbled.
One-by-one they tumbled–
I clenched my heart as it trembled.

I heard the cards fall
into love like gravity,
as dreams in waters tall,
drown most of me.

I watched as you realize
rough dangers advancing.
Just as quickly your eyes
displaced our gazes chancing.

I smelled desire die–
suffocated in doubt.
My lips sealed in goodbye–
a sullen pout.

I tasted the burns
of my ashes twisting,
as rebirth evades
my tired mending.

It happened to all of me.

I let boys use and discard me like a cheap toy.  I let boys who don't care for me have me.  I've wondered for a long time, "Why do I do that? Why do I let people I don't care about walk all over me?"

I finally have my answer: I DON'T CARE ABOUT ME.

Why should they be any different?

My current place in life is as tumultuous as ever.  I'm forever in between, endlessly mending, and I never fail to put myself at a disadvantage.  I annoy myself with my predictable predicaments. It all comes down to self-worth.  I remember how the importance of self-esteem was pressed in junior high/high school.  We all laughed and made fun of their cliche tag lines–convinced of our invincibility (how cliche in itself). Come to find out, cliche is cliche for a reason. If all the lame greeting card phrases are still around, doesn't that mean something?  It's just a collection of advice from those who've lived it. They weren't always cliche.

I've just now realized that I've let so many people down... I'm recalling so much from so many strong women in my life... things they wanted for me, places they told me I could go, people they told me I could be. I grew up compassionate, loving, mothering, contemplative, complicated, defiant, strong/willed, stubborn, sweet, playful, honest and most importantly, FAIR.

But, I haven't been fair to me. Acceptance is the first step, eh?

I won't ever be perfect, but at least now I'm brave.

"Perhaps all those sappy slogans from preschool over to high school's groaning were tokens for holding the lonely at bay." Tanya Davis, How To Be Alone

It's not that I want to drive off a bridge... it's just that I think of these things happening. Driving off a bridge sounds terrible. I daydream/nightmare about tragedy happening to me nonstop, being stranded in a field full of tornadoes, tripping and falling down the stairs, running someone over, backing into cars, awful accidents, earthquakes, zombies, rape, etc.

I often think of them in the moment they might actually happen. It's very stressful.

A horrible aspect of being a worrier, I suppose.

How can I mean so much to so many, but nothing to myself?

I'm watching summer leave like it's my life.  The air cools and I sweat less, the leaves change and my tan fads, the grass dies and my heart aches.  I'll hide my face in scarves, and put away my bikini.  I'll bury my tears in cold, and warm them only when I sleep. Alone.

The sun no longer warms my soul.  I don't know how to say goodbye to this ridged girl.  I've got too much practice in repairing, too much mending. The walls I fear, are permanent.  I don't have the keys to the gate. I lost them or they were stolen. I can't make it one hour without tears. So fucking stupid. Such a stupid girl. I bring it upon myself although I claim to be okay. I've burned and reborn myself so often–the scar tissue is ugly and painful.  I think this burnout may be my last. I don't think I can take it again. My days as a phoenix are certainly numbered.

The weight of this year has left me hardened.  I don't want the burden of me anymore.  Why would anyone else?  If I'm going to make it, I have to fall in love with me.  I can't even look in the mirror.

"You're a force of nature."

Bullshit.