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 Dec 2017 Andy
M
love me, love me, please just love me...
i promise that i will love you in return! (this is true)
i can find unique beauty in everyone and everything

i'm not asking you to fill this ragged hole within me. it's been patched up before
you don't have to do anything really (am i lying?) but your love is enough (is it?)

i'm sorry, maybe i'm just making excuses
maybe i'm just needy- but this love, this love is genuine i swear
my love is always different; everyone[thing] is different
(does that make it the same?)

scratch that
i can't expect this from anyone but myself, or maybe mom and dad  (why am i cringing)
...that ship is still at sea

you're just so beautiful to me (or do i need to be told that i am?)
He died you hated him
He beat you ******
Mean *******
Mom gave you his compass
Always come back son
If she only knew you would never return
 Nov 2016 Andy
Scarlet Niamh
There once was a mathematician, who
hypothesised long ago that I would
learn to love him. His words were all logic,
plans and placements, everything set in
stone for me to keep. He said that, one day,
my heart wouldn't break at the prospect
of love and that I would get over my
pure fear - of me, of him, of... us. He
promised that, one day, his love would be
returned to him when I realised exactly
what he was to me.

He was right.

But I was too late.
~~ Come back to me, my logical wonder. ~~
 Nov 2016 Andy
Alias
This isn't me
 Nov 2016 Andy
Alias
I'm not the kind of person Who shows "weakness".
I'm  the kind of person  Who hides her tears from everyone. Who cries late at night when Everyone else is asleep. Who has to grab her stomach and bite her nails, Just to hold herself together. Who silently gasps  for air. Who has no one to comfort her because although I have people that love me, they just don't understand. Maybe that's my fault... I don't always tell people what's going on in my head. Sometimes because I don't want to seem crazy, but usually because I honestly don't understand it myself. I have never been able to explain the thoughts and emotions I have, because they don't even make sense to me. How could they possibly make sense to anyone else? But when I do attempt to explain, I'm shut down by "That's crazy" or "Just get over it".  Trust me, if I could I would. That's all I want...

When it hits, I feel as though my thoughts aren't mine. I have no control over them no matter how hard I try....

Anxiety is  having a good day and out of nowhere, for absolutely no reason, you feel as though your drowning. Anxiety for me is wanting to call my Grandmother who I love but don't talk to much, and not being able to because for some ridiculous reason, the thought of picking up the phone and not knowing what to say terrifies me and makes me feel as though there are elephants doing cartwheels in my stomach.   Anxiety is being to afraid to stand up in church, when you really, really, need to. It's not being able to live life because your constantly freaking out, and knowing you shouldn't be and not being able to stop. Anxiety is a voice in your head that reminds you of your weaknesses  and tells you that you can't do things because of them. It makes you dwell on a single word. It makes you dwell on everything.
 Nov 2016 Andy
a m a n d a
(a thought experiment)



imagine you are
a young white boy,
in america,
in a small
town,
in the
1980's.

you are bright.
you love
to learn.

your family
loves you,
supports you,
encourages you,
believes in you.

you are innocent.

one day in
elementary school,
you are sitting at your desk,
listening attentively
to your teacher.

you are learning about
your country.
about presidents.
about elections.

suddenly, you hear
your teacher say that
men could not vote until 1920.

you quickly look around the room.
you don't understand.
what does she mean?

women could always vote,
but not men, she says.
men were not allowed.

she can't be serious.
this must be a joke.

you look in surprise at
the other boy's faces.

your face burns when
you lock eyes with a girl
in the class.

you sit silently.
you didn't know
that men were lesser.

no one had told you
until now.

you thought boys
and girls were the same.
had the same rights.
the same opportunities.
why wouldn't they?

you learn that men
had to fight for 40 years
for this right.

the women wouldn't
even write it down.
they thought it was ludicrous.
they tried to stop men at
every turn and succeeded
for decades.

thoughts clammer
in your mind.

what is wrong with boys?

it seems like everyone thinks
the girls are smarter.
the girls can be trusted.
the girls can be free.
the girls can make decisions.
only the girls know how
to run the country.

your teacher explains
that this is not the way
we are anymore.
now men can vote.

you look up at the presidents
hanging on the classroom wall.
they are all white women.
you hold your head up
a little higher.

no big deal.
there must not have
been any qualified men
to run for president since 1920.
yes, that makes the most sense.
that is logical.
to think otherwise
would be to assume
the world is not fair.

-

now it is 2016.
you are 36.

you have a job.
you have a masters degree.

and for the first time
in your life,
a man has the chance
to win the presidency.

this man has
devoted his life to
public service.
has a law degree.
served in office.
worked hard at
everything he did.

everything he has ever
done has been scrutinized,
ripped apart,
diminished.

he wants to secure
rights for men to use their
bodies as they choose.
he doesn't think this choice
should only be in the hands
of women.

he thinks men deserve
to be paid the same
amount of money as
women do for the same work.

he thinks fathers
should have rights.

he thinks birth control
should be easily available
and affordable to all men.

he is attacked on all sides.
he isn't tall enough.
or handsome enough.
he is balding.
his wife cheated on him,
so obviously he's an *******.

the woman running against
him constantly belittles him.
calls him names. rolls her eyes.
points and jeers,
hovers behind him
while he addresses the nation.
makes up outright lies about him,
and no one challenges her.

suddenly, all around you,
you see women rising up.
defending her. brushing off her
diseased ideas about men.
men should loosen up.
take a joke.

she thinks men should stay home.
stay out of business.
she thinks men without huge penises
have no value. no talent.
she even thinks someone should
just ****** this stupid man.

she owns young men's sports teams,
and likes to walk into the
locker room while they are changing.

and it has taken you
almost 40 years
to realize that

the chances of
every single president
just happening to
be a woman since 1920
is astronomical.

you are a white man.
you are almost 40.
you have played by
all the rules.
even the rules specially
set aside for men.
but you are
not represented.

you have to battle
with women about
your rights over
your own *****.

you work harder.
you get paid less.

people constantly
comment on your
appearance.

on your attitude.

on your smile or lack thereof.

judge you based on
how much chest hair is showing.

and you see a man,
that just won't quit,
battling unspeakable odds,
standing up for you.








can you imagine?
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