Who remembers who you are, when you can’t?

Those are the people who keep you, when you have lost yourself.

Who listens to you, when you’re not speaking?

Those are the people who hear you, through your silence.

Who loves you, when you hate yourself?

Those are the people who see you, and know your worth.

I’ve been handed this bag,

It’s too big to be a purse…

And too heavy for one shoulder…

I feel I’ve been handed a curse.

What am I to do with this?

This bag that I can’t put down…

I can, let it off my shoulder,

But I still have to drag it around.

I’m not even sure who it was,

That handed this bag to me…

But here it is and now it’s mine,

To ensure that I can’t be care-free.

Even more strange is that others can’t see it…

Almost like it’s all in my head.

How are they so blind to miss it?!

I’m dragging a bag full of lead!

I was 7 when my spirit was broken for the first time.

Being a child with a very high vibration, I was used to being redirected, and even disciplined.

This was different.

This woman looked at me like I was feral. This woman spoke to me like I was a disappointment. This woman treated me like I was exhausting.

This woman was my 2nd grade teacher.

She taught me to feel uncomfortable.

She taught me, my ideas were too much.

She taught me, my creativity was a burden.

I didn’t deserve that.

No child deserves that.

She taught me that being myself wasn’t okay.

Spinning spinning spinning

My skull is actually a centrifuge

Ideas and thoughts and visions go round

And round and round and round

Too fast to catch anything complete

Too fleeting to pin down a plan

Leaving a mess of half finished projects and good intentions

Too aware to enjoy the ride

Too abstract to be understood

Spinning spinning spinning

Scramble

Volume

Specific

Vast

Overwhelmed

Layered

Solution

Chaos

Quick

Methodical

Never-ending

Heavy

Magnetic

Spinning

Colorful

Realism

Connected

Growth

Grief

Hope

When was the last time you could

be happy

just happy

without thinking about the other shoe?

I explain to someone that they have crossed one of my boundaries…

…and they respond with a comparison of something that could be worse.

You’ll never be the one who got away

Unless you get away

there's an ache in the pit
of what I can only describe as my
soul
it's an ache that I feel in my
gut
but
I can feel it everywhere 
like putting a heavy stone in
the very center of a trampoline 
I do wonder how long 
the tight woven 
threads 
of the trampoline can support the
weight 
of 
the heavy stone

Do you ever forget to breathe? I don’t mean just to suck in and then let the air leave.

Do you ever forget, to really sit, and let go of the shit, and breathe deep into that angsty pit, with all the air you can fit, and then blow it all out like a spicy dab hit?

I know I forget.

But I remembered today, and when I finished I was okay. Focusing on what ruins your gay, makes it really easy to fray. It makes everyday gray. Makes you feel cray-cray.

Now that I’ve taken a breath, reclaimed some depth, I can see what is left.

So much to be grateful for, even with the constant mess on the floor, I’ll miss these times- of that I’m sure.