drifting

Bittersweet?

Lovehate?

or

Amazing-ness?

1000% commitment?

What if it’s the former?

Cool

breezing through stray hairs

whipping the nape of my neck and earlobes

Shadows dance

across my fluttering eyelids

Petals

between my fingers

Plucked

one

two

three

fall down

the steep side and into the bubbling

waters

Salty air

fill my nostrils

I breathe deeply

((written December, 2007, aged 19))

ticking clocks

remind me of the reality

I try so hard to forget.

time seems like 

such a memory,

here in this suffocating

closet of a world.

day in

day out.

hit the snooze button

just one last time

to finish my dreams

that I can never recall

once I shut my lids again.

dark mahogany block my

view from the door.

I’m vulnerable

and I barely realize it.

sanctuary and prison

all wrapped in one

brightly colored box.

((written October, 2005, age 17))

It was lonely. Much lonelier than she could have ever imagined. It felt as if all others on the planet had vanished, leaving her wandering once busy streets and byways in solitude. Does anyone hear you scream if you’re completely alone? She wondered.

She had dug herself into a hole she could no longer see out of. It was never supposed to end up like this, she thought. It was always supposed to be fun.

At least that’s what your addiction wants you to believe. There’s always a moment, in retrospect, when you realize the fun has stopped being… fun. Your brain finally stops responding to the fun chemicals floating around the brain, and thinks, SCREW THIS! THIS CANNOT BE FUN!

But at the time, it’s all good, right? Keep the booze flowing and the pills rolling. A high tolerance is a sign of seniority, a sense that you can handle your shit. It never occurs to you that your body is slowly shutting down, shutting you out of it. 

At that moment, she realized the depth of her disease. Could she ever make it out? Only time would tell. Until then, a moment, a breath, a heartbeat at a time was the only way she could imagine success. 

Seeing the world from a different light

full of pink, silver, and gold. 

Everything is the same

but different. 

Unavoidable in the scheme

of things.

Seeking treasure troves

and rhinestone studded gems.

An understanding

A gift.

The first time I watched Bridesmaids

I cried.

Not the HAHA kind of cry either.

A slap in the face.

A cold realization.

My self-sabotauging behavior

mirrored through the main character.

With my tears came a death,

and the chance at a new life.

With no more self hatred,

I had the chance at a joyful

and fulfilled future.

How it took watching Jon Hamm

suggest road head

or post-coitally kick Kristin Wiig

out of his house…

is beyond me.

Water and light

That’s all you need

To make the world come alive.

From a dark grey emerges

a curved beam of light.

Its seven shades just visible. 

               The end of the luscious arc

               is where the magic happens.

And then 

before you know it

it’s gone as quickly as it arrived. 

Ephemeral and fleeting.

That is life.