Saturday, January 12, 2019

getting back up is hard

It's okay to hurt, but don't let yourself hurt too long. You have to move on at the right time or you may never move on. You let it go, and keep going. If you can't find anything to be happy about now, be happy that the future has a fifty percent probability of anything happening, and focus on the fact that there's a fifty percent chance that something worth being happy about is in the near future.

If we keep letting ourselves hurt, we'll disappear. I really don't want to disappear. I want to stop hurting. I know you want the same. I also know how hard it is to stop. Sometimes we wonder if it's even possible, and I wish we could see inside each other's hearts and minds to know exactly how to help each other, because maybe helping each other out of this rut is the only way we can survive.

And that reminds me that maybe we need each other to survive. Maybe we need each other to take our hands and lift us up, because right now we're sitting on a curb with the other broken hearts. It makes me hurt to think that maybe we're all sitting on this curb at one point, and we all need someone to pick us up and help us to our feet. So I'll do it. I'll get up on my feet, ready to move forward. I'll put my pain aside and I'll take your hand and I 'll lift you up. I want to know that you will survive, even if you don't think you will, because I'm right here for you. I'll be here for you even though no one was there for me. I don't want you to hurt like I did.

I hope you remember that. Get up, move on, and keep going. You'll end up there again, but we can't stay because staying means never getting that fifty percent chance of something beautiful happening in the near future.

Monday, September 3, 2018


Sometimes fog swirls around me

And i feel the need to describe

Its misty texture,

Its oceanic, not yet briny smell,

Its grey-with-an-e color,

Its cold familiarity that keeps me

Grasping at thin air,

and gulping for a breath not saturated with water.

Fluorescent lights grow faded

And everything becomes


And i feel as if i’m in the center of a waterspout

Twisting down into depths unknown

And i don’t know how to go back up

Even though i crave to,

But a part of me wants to stay

Tucked away down here forever

So i can solve this puzzle

That i never fully explored.

Or maybe it’s the familiarity that beckons

With a curled finger

And a siren song.

The song is so sweet.

The surface ripples

A window just above my eyelids

That separates me from the rest of the world.

I could come up for breath.

But if i do,

The lapse will fade

And i’ll have left one more piece of me down there

Instead of finding the others and bringing them back.

If all else fails, please don’t let me forget


* * * * *

Hi, guys. It's been a while. I can't promise that I"ll be posting again anytime soon, but I hope y'all are okay with that. I wrote this poem a couple of nights ago, but if it sounds a little bit depressed, don't worry, I'm feeling better now. Sometimes we have our highs and lows, but poetry always seems to come from the lows for me for some absurd reason. How are you guys? I've never gotten much activity on this blog, but I keep asking with the hope.


Thursday, July 19, 2018

a f r a i d


I used to be afraid of the dark. I would imagine bugs crawling up the sides of my bed in hordes and covering me with their tiny, barbuled feet. I imagined dark silhouettes in the doorway, mask covering their faces or charcoal smeared across their eyes. I would imagine hungry, red-eyed creatures slinking through the windowsill and cornering me in my lofty perch.

I had a bunk bed. Being on the top bunk was my first precaution against these terrors. The second was my blanket. My blanket just make the monsters disappear. I would squeeze my eyes shut and lie still with the covers wrapped snuggly around my small body until it got too hot to breathe. As my last precaution, I would pray, because if all else failed, God would take away the monsters and I could finally sleep. Only when my heart stopped pounding would I poke my eyes out from under the blankets and scan the doorway. I would lay still and let the darkness seep into my mind, so that when I opened my eyes again, I had night vision. Then I could see that there were no monsters. There never were.

I have so many fears.

I’m afraid of spiders.

I’m afraid of fire.

I’m afraid of bad things happening outside my little bubble of life.

I’m afraid of bad things entering my bubble.

I’m afraid of strangers.

I’m afraid of being wrong.

I’m afraid of people not wanting to be my friend, and the wrong words tumbling out of my mouth, and broken hearts and broken feelings.

I’m afraid of feeling hollow and alone.

I’m afraid of being forgotten.

I’m so afraid.

The other night, I finally realized something. I’ve come to realize that when you face your fears, usually there is nothing to fear. When you face them with a courageous heart, you’ve already won.

I wonder how many battles I’ve won so far. It makes me tired to think that I will have to fight so many more before I’m through, and I wonder just how long I’ll be able to stand it before breaking. If I were to describe myself, I would say I feel like a broken vase patched up with too much duck tape. There is much more duck tape in my future.

I wrote a poem about fear once. I don’t want to share it with you, but there is a part where I wrote that “I will overcome fear if it be God’s will.” I think that’s what He wants to me to do. But He wants me to do it while holding His hand. I don’t think I would let go of it even if I could stand by myself.

I’m still afraid of the dark. Sometimes the monsters appear in my doorway at night. I still pray, but now it’s my first precaution. I still hide beneath my covers until my heart stops racing, but I don’t stay there until it gets too hot. I don’t hide in my old lofty perch. I’m brave enough to know they won’t get me this time because God won’t let them.  I count to ten and stick my head out. Night vision comes faster. There are no monsters there. There never were.