my veins are crying out for the places you created
and my eyes search for the broken planets your tongue destroyed
there were pirate ships in your breath
when it was heavy outside last December
please don’t leave me in the cold
my veins are crying out
and your galaxies are fading

You’re worth it. You’re worth every single joy you’ve felt, every single pain and every single star you’ve thought wasn’t listening while you screamed inside, begging for the universe to listen. You’re worth everything this world has for you because you are brighter than any darkness you feel. Don’t run from the pain, don’t make it harder for the happiness to find you.

I was raised on bubblegum dreams
and fortune cookie promises.
I was never told that the stars
are just gas and debris,
and the moon does not glow
all by itself.
I searched endlessly for messages
in the constellations
but the sun would always chase away
the moonlight
seconds before
I found the answers.

He touched me
with the same
flickering debris
and fortune cookie intention
that I thought I knew
all about.

He told me
I was the moon,
but failed to mention
I would need the sun.

In the darkness
I would search for answers,
desperate to find
things I would not recognize
when in the morning
he would chase away my moonlight.

In the winter I am made of smoke,

rising aimlessly

in dancing twists and turns 

against dark, cold air. 

I wander with translucent skin

and mind

desperately feeling the sky with my fingertips 

praying for snow to hug my body 

and maybe bring me back down. 

I come in waves,

I hurt your lungs,

try to touch me and I will disappear.

I am weightless

but so, so heavy. 

Some days I feel like I am floating away

and foggy

and the result 
of something

burning.

seven problems with wanting "happy":

1. stop listening to lists made by other unhappy people in their happy moments. these things will only keep you up until something stronger comes to knock you down.

2. if you don’t want to smile, don’t do it. if you don’t know how to pick yourself up, don’t force it. but just know that one day you’ll be tired of hiding in the darkness, and that sadness flows in arcs. as many times as you hit your low point, you’ll find high points, and that’s what life is about: wholeness. you are not static, you are not a two dimensional character who can only feel one thing. don’t settle for anything less than being dynamically full of experiences. you do not need “happy”, it is a pre-packaged pill bottle sold to us by empty promises and bleeding scars that we cannot close alone.

3. yeah, some people are ******* toxic and negative and ******, but sometimes you need them. and sometimes, they really need you. don’t talk behind their back, don’t try to bring them down farther - if you won’t take them out of your life, then be kind to them. practice being genuine.

4. compare yourself to others. realize that you are not alone, understand their hurt. do not live in a vacuum. you are not striving for something alone. compare yourself by recognizing your pain in other people, and realizing that you are the same. their journey and your journey do not have to be taken on separate plains.

5. think. think too much. don’t buy the ******* telling you to stop thinking too much. question the world, question why you feel so cornered, question why you hurt, question why you don’t want to open that door and walk into the sunlight. then do something about it. even if it is the smallest scratch of letters in a notebook.

6. understand that yes, there are inspirational words out there that have been spun into webs that swallow you up, in a glistening masquerade. there are words out there that will ease the pain for a moment but will leave you when you are lying in your bed, emptied of tears and life and unable to remember which black and white letters promised they would make things beautiful again. they may make you feel better for a moment, but you are not required to live a life outlined by seven bullet points. you are not obligated to make tea and wear warm fuzzy socks but if you want to do it then go ahead. you are not a bullet point. you are not a list. you are breath and pain and joy and blood pulsing through veins. don’t cheat yourself of life. decide for yourself and try to live with kindness because no one knows what the **** they are doing, and maybe if we realized that then we could figure it out together.

7. let yourself discover what you need. it is okay to tell yourself that you will change but not know how. it is okay to not want to change at all. it is okay to be confused. take a deep breath, delete this list, and walk away.

today I was wondering what gives you the right to comment on someone else's life

the way you do

with such ease,

and such venom,

and as if you have never felt the ridiculously hindering sting of humanity

for yourself.

and I guess I realized that you're nursing your own wounds
and I guess I realized that's what makes you want to point out someone else's
because bandages can be humiliating
and scars won't go away but you can diminish them with dog-toothed words
that bite
that judge and spotlight someone else's faults.

and I've always loved the spotlight so who cares,
right?

well anyways,

it's harder to wish for you to be okay
but I'd rather do that
than feel blackened by the soot
of two-cent words
that go bump in the night.
I don't need a conscience
to dig into me with a blade
or you,
for that matter,
to dig into me with
letters grasping for footing
in vain.


because I have my own scars
that don't deserve to be mocked
because they hurt just as badly
as you are hurting.

To whom it may concern,

I am sad today
but I am trying
really hard
to be better.

Today it hurts to breathe,
and I think there is a stingray
swimming in my chest,
but I am trying
really hard
to be better.

To whom it may concern,

I do not know who you are,
but you should know
that I swear,
I have all these dreams
and ideas
in my head
that I try to love with kindness,
even if they weigh me down
when I gather them in my arms
to keep them safe from the dark.

They are trying
really hard
to give me space
to be better.

But, Dear Heart and Dear Head,
you ache like statues of stone -
discarded graveyard relics -
and I can feel your cracks and shattered edges
as I skim the hard surfaces
with my cold hands.
I can feel the pain
and it gets heavier
as my words pile dirt
on my brain,
like damp soil shoveled
over a new grave.

Today I am sad
but I am trying
really, really hard
to dig myself out
to stop suffocating
to shed the heaviness
to get better.