They don't tell you how amazing it is to love.
They don't tell you how much unrequited love *****.
They don't tell you how great every tastes after your first time.
They don't tell you how every emotion is louder when you are older.
They don't tell you how coming out is terrifying.
They don't tell you how depression feels like the weight of the world is on your shoulders.
They don't tell you how anxiety feels as though everything is falling apart.

I am not ashamed to be a bisexual poet.
Writing is freeing and therapeutic.
Poetry is home.

I am still the same me. Poetic, strong, smart and brave.
My new job has less drama than working at a gas station.
I am working at a thrift store. Much better than a gas station.
My coworkers are fun to hangout with.
And I love my job. Nothing is better than that.

I am sorry for the things that were not poetry and not true about people of my town.
For that I ask forgiveness. I lost my mind during that summer. I am back and I plan on not losing my mind this time. Though people of my town still treat mental illnesses and sexualities as insanities. That is true. I have a new job. My mental health have improved a lot. So hello poetry. I missed you guys.

We live in a society that treats mental illnesses and sexuality as secrets of something evil within a church.
This is a society ruled by corrupt politicians full of themselves, government ruled by religion and people who just want rights to live as themselves. Is that too much to ask for?
The sanity that is left inside all of us is worth something. Society is insane and so are we.
We can't live in fear forever, go with that poetic justice and set yourself free.

Solving riddles from my dreams.
It's an ever changing story.
Some of it makes sense but just barely.
The rest is nonsense and possibilities.
We are riddled with madness over our dreams.
Maybe the madness is what keeps us sane.

Walking under the blazing sun in walking yourself to a heat stroke.
Blood pumping and deep breathing is harder on the body.
It's counting blessings for the shade on that walk.
And gratitude that you made it to your destination without dying.
Walking under the blazing summer sun is brave and stupid.
But it is exercise.

So I had a job interview today for a place and it was a good job interview. The place interviewed at is very quiet and you make soup and sandwiches for customers.
It's an ideal place for a writer like me. Then again I am not disclosing the place because I hope to get the job.

Politics. People as huge crowds.
Paper and Pen.
Metaphors and Fights.
Human Rights Debates and Agriculture.
Voting is very politically charged.

The chocolatey sweet cream is deliciously gay.
Coffee is Emotive.
Activate the Resurrections!
Randomness. Dream Dating.
Life is very bisexual if you ask me.

It was cold in the cafe because emotive life.
Anxiety and Depression.
Deliciousness. Strong Coffee in General.
Memes and Waking up because can't miss that healthy walk.
Sunshine and dying under that heat wave.
Climate change. Political issues.

*******! There is souls in life.
Google Translate Sings is awesome. People **** because death.
You are all ******* and fuckwads of your own life.
Valid is valid.

Randomness. Flirting.
Being a demiromantic bisexual.
This is my queer life. Gay is an insult in the Midwest but I take it as a compliment. To get too close to someone is terrifying to me as a person but you get used to them living with you.
It's freeing, it's thrilling and they notice the small details about you.
It's fun and dangerous, commitment is. Because to love someone is worth all the **** you go through together as a couple.
I regret nothing. And I never will.
So rebel and live with yourself as mad you may be.

Detective shows. Being a demiromantic bisexual idiot in love.
Going to youth group. Outsmarting the other kids.
Hanging out with the older kids. **** what society says about mental ill and mentally disabled people. Because ***** off Trumpers, I am a Liberal!!!! Sorry but you are all worship a cult that doesn't even deserve a second presidency because he is a ******* stupid conspiracy theorist. Thank you for coming to my poetic rant!

I grew up with these terrifying nightmares and somehow I became a good writer.
I grew up as a divorcee parentified child taking care of my older siblings and younger sibling. I had to grow up early. I had to be myself all of time. So I would escape into music, writing or reading because I could be myself there.
I didn't have to be someone I am not. I didn't have this perfect Christian child that was raised in a church.
In those worlds I read about I could be alone and breathe deeply. Even in the worlds I created I was still validly insane. What is life without insanity? What is friendship without trust and love?
My answer is simply nothing. I grew up and I am mentally sane again just with my own hero story and villain background.

It is cold and green. My entire life is confusing.
I am a demiromantic bisexual.
Happy Pride Month! Who wants fresh sarcasm?!
Life is Gay(Sarcasm).

Death is an old family friend of mine and Life is on speed dial.
I won't tell which is witch.
A life of a writer's life is soulfully expensive just ask the parents.
So life of a reporter is platonic relationships and actual good stories not the obtuse stories put on your desk.
So rebel! Start a revolution! Rise up and live your best lives! Make people wish they were you when they can't!

Tossing and turning.
Unlearning abusive systems and relearning loving skills.
Becoming a dream keeper as a rebellious angel child anything is possible.
So I am very soulfully strong and heart-meltingly adorable.
I provide nightmares for my worst enemies.
And sweet dreams for my dearest friends.
Anyone in the middle is going to live with their political aspirations.

Being a storyteller since I was 7 years old made me invulnerable to pain. I used my uncontrollable rages and imperfect weaknesses growing up to outsmart anyone who couldn't handle my rebellious old soul and heart.
I outran my fears every time until inevitably I left for dead all alone in my bedroom sobbing into my pillow and suddenly I realized I only had myself to trust. If I was going to be repeatedly abandoned then I would have to be my own hero and villain of my own tall tales.
If no one can tell the difference between hero and villain then why stop being a rebel?
With revolutions at a single heart stopper smile and manic laughter then insanity is my best friend.
I am a medically insane, medical journalist so pay the price of your sins confess them to your closest enemy.
Surprise surprise I am morally queer coded as a mentally ill and mentally disabled girl.

The joyful Vanilla Latte burnt my tongue at Panera Bread.
Then I slowly sipped sarcastically while my abusive ex-boyfriend Ken Darkheart Jr. was texting these online girls with memes.
I as a liberal made a funny face and went home untouched by his impure memes.

My abusive ex-boyfriend were in the Quad Cities and this was a year ago. It was December of the Gays.
The Peppermint Latte was so Gay it was chilly in the Starbucks.
I love being a demiromantic bisexual. And it ruthlessly annoyed him Kenneth Darkheart Jr.

Gentle kisses. The kiss deepening and deepening until our passion overflows and hearts beat as one.
Her dark blue eyes and strong insults with my dark brown eyes and strong wits are dark chocolate and strong coffee in Italy, perfection.
Our deep conversations rotations of hot topics of politics and medical skills.
So do the forbidden love stories! So do those queer romances! Rise up and win your own wars!

To say, "Love is an art is a dream." to that of which we cannot say, "Hatred is an art form of nightmares." I don't know where in dream psychology I am referencing but I know these are the quotes I choose to live by. And I am a demiromantic bi. So I love my girl with my heart, soul and mind. Chels the Angel of my ever spreading fire within my heart.
The Art of True Love is to be selfless, self sacrificing, self loving and self confident within that relationship. Within 7 months she and I will be engaged again. I am willing to wait 2 years for her to finish her physician degree. While I get known as an local poet of my religious small town. I work with the Art Man. And I know that sounds weird but he is a really good elder of my small town. I trust him with my poems.

Smile as red as a dark rose in the sunlight.  Cheekbones as sharp as dagger on a battlefield. Eyes blue as the skies themselves in the darkest of night. Personality as bright as the sun on the warmest day of spring. Here is my future girlfriend!
She is my Castor and I am her Wayward.

Living with a split mind is like thinking of yourself through a cracked mirror. One is real and the other isn't reality. To manifest one part of yourself is to challenge reality and leave the fakeness to other people.
To live with a split mind is to think of yourself as a monster then be the sweetest person no matter how cracked the mirror is. It is always staring back at you evilly grinning.
I was terrified of myself, 2 summers ago. I didn't want to hurt anyone so I did what I do best read until my brain can't take it anymore and write until my hand cramps up. I thought I dreaming of my life in slow motion where no one could stop me.

I am referencing Sam Fender because his voice is awesome. I am a Warrior so that's a fact.
Call Me Lover because my heart is full of love and terms of endearment.
Call Me Lover because I will define my rebellions since my fiery spirit guides me to places I thought I'd never go.
Call Me Lover because I can be make governments fear my loose cannon techniques.
Call Me Lover because I care so much for my people even if they don't care about me.
Call Me Lover because we are heroes to those who can't love themselves.
I am a Warrior because it is vital to have fun when bored in this tiny, adorable town.
I am a Warrior because we love poetic justice even if it is naturally ironic.
I am a Warrior because I lived through many of other people's wars with themselves.

She is the girl I made out with in the Hawk's nest in college.
She is the girl who I fell in love with.
She is the girl who I can't stop thinking ever since I met her after the SGA interviews.
She is the girl who comforted me when no one else would.
She is the girl who changed me for the better.
She is the girl who wanted my life to be only mine.
She is the girl who is my vocal witness.

I want to change only socializing at work.
I want to change how I beat myself up over the past.
I want to change how my thoughts being negative about my past.
I want to change how lonely I feel sitting my bedroom thinking of a better life.
I want to change how stupid I feel when I have no words for my feelings.
I want to change how my family think of my love life. I am not hopeless or stupid or uncapable of thinking for myself. I can consent to my own life as insane I am. I accept my madness. I accept the messed up past. I accept the negative thoughts I have.
I accept that there will always be drama no matter where I go. My life is not a debate. I am still human. I have flaws and I accept them.
No one has a right to my love life. The poems that I write are personal I get to choose who publishes them.

The art walk isn't here yet I still have 2 months until my debut performance of my poetry. According to one of the librarians I am a well known poetess in my town.
It's not my first time reading my poetry to a bunch of people. I read my poetry in the church while I was growing up. It is just my first time reading my poetry to the whole town at an art studio.
I already have most of it collected I have more poetry in my journals but I am pretty sure I don't need to read those.
Those are too personal for even me to read in public. My journals are sacred to me. I only read my past journals when I need to ground myself in reality. I have excerpts in my journals that I won't even share with my college because it's my property.
My private thoughts and life is my business not anyone else's. If I wanted people to know things about my life I will tell them the stories I keep to myself but I don't trust most people in this town. I let them talk gossip and rumors about me because I don't care what they think of me.

Creative people comes in packs I know so because I am one of them. I have known so many musicians, writers, singers and painters within my lifetime. Ever since I was a kid Art has been my Lifestyle.
I was blessed with my talent and determination. I was blessed with a life where art became my home. Not my town.
I may make my songs, poems and novels in this town but I am not bound to stay here forever. I was never meant to stay here.
God wants me out of this town as much as I do I can feel it is true.
I just need a car and a driver's license. As well as a place to go to. I have plans to do more poetry readings. I mean a church friend of mine always invites me to go to poetry slams in the cities I would go but I don't have a car.
I mean I would have a panic attack on the way there but putting my works out there is worth it. I still need to call my college back so they can put my works into the paper. They could just interview me at the art walk. I don't mind. I know how important it is to have my works published. I always wanted some of my works published before I turn 25 years old. I mean being an artist in general is being fearless and expressing yourself.

In college I loved SGA, Writer's Guild and my gay friends.
Ken was determined to isolate me from everything and everyone I cared about. He thought if it was just him and I then I would care about him more. Or that I would randomly fall in love with him which never happened. He thought if I hated Chelsie then I would love him which didn't happened. My heart told me something was up but I didn't trust myself with all of Ken's mixed signals.
I was confused about him. I was thinking at the time, "If he tells me he loves me but still hurts my emotions without regard to my boundaries then he doesn't love me at all." Somehow I still stayed around. I want to go back to college. I miss SGA and Writer's Guild.
I still talk to my gay friends because they are amazing people.
I think without Ken I will actually be able to get my degree in the Associates in the Arts.

Well you readers knew everything about my church now. My friends and all of the drama that has happened in my life.
Clearly I haven't brought up my Christian/Catholic community. My church is one thing and the society is another.
The patriarchal system in my town is the worst. The sexism is rampant here. I mean in this town has homophobia, biphobia, transphobia and xenophobia happens. Most people in my town are raised in the churches here. There are many queers but no pride parades in my town.
Being mentally disabled, bisexual and liberal meant my thoughts on this town aren't popular then again neither was I.
I like to think I broke the mold because in middle school since being a nerd who loves music and books didn't make me fit in. The popular kids wanted me to fit in but I didn't as hard as they tried.
My edges couldn't be dulled and my intelligence came with my snarky attitude.

I know referencing Tessa Violet sounds cliche' but each day I get inspired to write poetry. The only reason why I am not ******* Tessa Violet because she is my friend and I know it sounds weird.
I enjoy my platonic relationships. I know not a huge surprise considering you know me Chelsie. I would rather be friends with my favorite musicians than you know do that.
Whatever Ken said about me isn't true. He hates everyone including liberal bisexuals who know what the hell they are talking about.
His puppy dog eyes aren't worth a damaged pen. I was repulsed by him and his political views. If I could turn back time I would have walked back into the SGA office instead of avoiding you.
Ken made it sound like you hated my guts and told me we were sisters. Even though being medicated and sane enough to vote, I can honestly say, "You could have just talked to me. I would have talked back to you." He gas-lighted me and lied to me for months. You never did any of that. Driving me insane is one thing but emotional abuse is another. There is a difference.

When I got my wisdom teeth out I was put on strong pain meds and my feelings became 20 times intense than before.
I felt lonely so I grabbed onto the future I wanted without hesitation, I was in college. I felt like an outcast in SGA because I had to explain myself so often. I thought I would be bullied like I was in middle school because of my mental disabilities. I wasn't because even though they were popular, rich kids and I was the nerdy, poor kid who just there to have a voice in something. They respected that and loved who I was no matter how confusing my mind was at the time way back when.
I didn't know that making out with the SGA's secretary would spread like wildfire through my college and my hometown. Even though we were a power couple, we still had things to go through and people to meet. After all these years when I heard her love confession to me it was like my old feelings were stirring again and I picked up where I left off by being the endearing lover. Not the lovesick girl that she probably heard rumors about when she stalked me for a year.
I stayed in my hometown and she went back to her hometown.
I am starting my writing and singing career which is great. I mean have been for the last 15 years but now I am actually getting momentum. So glad the Art Man thinks I am talented.

Only Cowards are afraid to say I love you.
Only Cowards force you to kiss them.
Only Cowards make loving them the hardest thing in the world.
Only Cowards aren't able to cross the line of sanity.
Only Cowards don't know how to kiss passionately.
Only Cowards have no direction to their lives.

Drama always runs high in crowds. I don't whether it's the leaders that make it tense or the followers. Popularity always seemed fickle and lonely, I mean to do crazy and stupid stuff that has no meaning whatsoever for popularity just seemed like the gold rush, nothing is there. So why look?
To try so hard to get a feeling that you know will go away. Why try?
Why not be what you want, if you want it so badly?
If you need a friend, be a friend to yourself.
If you need a lover, be someone you can love.
There isn't one way to be something like high school taught you to be.
I mean, how does anyone expects to respect you if you won't do the same?

Socializing, talking and communicating.
Notifying the bosses about my gig in the art walk.
It felt like being in Home E.C. again the kitchen meeting.
Just as exhausting as Home E.C. too.
Church is tomorrow and I am not mentally prepared.
I think my church will want to excommunicate me after I give my poetry reading because I am not holding anything back.
I am already seen as insane and unholy because I had *** with Chelsie. I can express myself however I want as long as it doesn't hurt anyone. Critiquing isn't same as saying outright that hey this church need more queers.

When people compliment me, I think, "What the hell do I do with this? Do I hug them? Do I smile? What if they are a stranger I don't touch strangers."
When people flirt with me, I think, "Make a joke they might laugh. Okay that was stupid. Do something else."
When people talk to me, I think, "Okay socialization! Where did those words come from? What was that? Who is this again? Name...name, come on I need a name! If I say you then it will be too generalized. If I make a snarky comment will they hate me?"
When I sing, I think, "What will people think of me? How do I sound? Wow, that was good. Can I do it again?"

Truthfully my life from the outside seems tragic, heartbreaking and full of drama. Because it is. I had to face everything that scared me.
I am getting a new medication from my psychiatrist, don't know how I am going to react it but if it helps me get out of my house then I am open to the possibilities.
Truthfully I am still healing, still revealing my heart in songs, still thinking about everything that hurts and still processing.
Truthfully my instincts help me think. I wouldn't be me if I didn't have my protective instincts. My mom and my church sexually repressed me so that ******. I don't like feeling trapped or suppressed. So I think romantically and thoughtfully. I am old fashioned even for my age. I believe love needs to be felt and seen through actions because love without actions is just another feeling.
Truthfully I don't care about ***, status or death. Death never cared who it took away from me. Status always got me into trouble. *** is common knowledge in a small town because who you **** with is what most people care about.
Truthfully I don't think I am better than anyone else because I don't judge anyone. People's privacy rights are theirs. People's human rights are theirs. People's beliefs are theirs. If it's not mine then I respect it whatever it is.
Truthfully my past don't define me. I define me.

My Charm attracts Many but I trust Few because I felt lonely in the crowds.
My Charm attracts Many but I only talk to Few because with the Many I never seemed valued.
My Charm attracts Many but I only care about Few because I am tired of being a people pleaser.
My Charm attracts Many but I only think of those I love because I only make plans with those I trust.

I can control how I react things. I can control my mental state in most cases. I don't fight when it comes to releasing my emotions.
Most of the time when I can't control I use calming methods like deep breathing techniques I learned from concert band.
I can control my thoughts and what to think about. It's like opening up being vulnerable is easy to me but trusting that an entirely different story. To trust someone I need to have known them for a long time. I can't just meet someone and automatically trust them, I used to do that but I ended up hurt far too many times by doing that.

Chelsie wanted to pressure me into having video *** with her. Of course I refused because her older sister told me at the library that she didn't recognize any of them. As many naked pictures she sent of herself to me, I refused because I knew something wasn't right about her. There was church bells going off in my gut telling something was wrong with her. No matter how turned on I was I couldn't lose her.
I refused despite what I remembered of her.
I just did what I wanted someone to do for me if I went into psychosis again. Then again when I went into psychosis I read every book in my room and wrote gibberish from my audio hallucinations into my journals. I got lucky I guess. Good thing I used my calming methods from when I was eleven when I got panic attacks a lot.

I fell in love with her in college, he wanted to control me with every ounce of his monster-like charm.
She gave me a wild love to fight for, he destroyed my confidence and mocked me for it.
I wanted to escape his hopeless grasp, she gave me a new beginning.
I felt stuck between two worlds. One giving something to live for and the other drowning me in my own depression.
I was leading people with my light and couldn't pull myself out of his perverted sense of reality. The more I faded from him the more he held on tight to what was left. I knew there was nothing left and I stayed out of obligation.

I didn't ask for people to love me without conditions or to be obsessed over.
I didn't ask for people to write my name on their hearts.
I didn't ask for people to sing my praises and worship the ground I walked on.
I didn't ask for people to care about me or think about me, they just did.
I didn't ask for my wars to be fought for me. I am a warrior for my own cause.
I didn't ask for my mother or sister to steal my voice away because I had my own thoughts for my future.
I didn't ask for anything that happened in my past.
I didn't ask for conflicts that had nothing to do with me.

In college I fell for Chelsie. We met on a sunny day after the SGA interviews. At Black Hawk, Jana the student leader organizer of SGA said I got into this spin off of SGA. Eventually while I was in Writer's Guild I became vice president then joined SGA. I perfected everything I could.
Since I was too afraid to go back to SGA, I got to pick who was in the support system and a wooden gavel. I still don't know why. I may be a good judge of character but my mental illnesses make me disabled.
I got a vocal witness which is her. I don't know why she still cares about me so much. According to my psychiatrist's assistant I am autistic. So that's new.

I don't give access to many because the few I have in my life is enough. I hide behind my words because my actions confuse a lot of people. Politics in SGA ran high it was like walking into the lions den on purpose. I got tangled into the politics even more so when I slept with Chelsie then dramatics spread like wildfire. People wanted to think for me. People spread rumors about me. I got so many curious glances from people I didn't know. Once the fact I lost my virginity got out to the public, it went through my college and ended up in my small town.
I don't give access to many because when I express myself I don't know what to say. When I think it's jumbled like earphones. I don't where many of them come from. It's like sorting clothes, some are old, some are new and most of them are random.
I don't give access to many because radio silence make me feel bored. I have to listen to something to think clearly.

I am me because I expressive to the point that people call me crazy. I was the girl that everyone talked about in college, high school and middle school. Basically I never worried about being bored.
I am me because every time I got hurt or betrayed by someone I bounced back stronger than before. I was always controversial no matter where I went since I am mentally disabled, emotionally expressive, a trailblazer, a vagabond, a writer, a singer/songwriter and nerdy.
I am me because I don't ask for attention. I don't care what people think of me because it's trivial and fickle. Everyone wants to be my friend but I have boundaries that are specifically meant to protect me. I never wanted to be the girl that people get confused by but I got used to it.
I am me even with all of my scars. I never asked anything from anyone. I just wanted an emotional safe place with whoever I spent time with. The things I wanted from people are simple: my secrets secure, my heart protected and quality time with the people I care about. I don't care about money, status, how many followers are on your Facebook page, ***, and politics.
I care about your soul, your heart and what goes on in your mind.

I have done a lot of stupid things and you aren't one of them. I am an open book just in multiple languages. I don't have a bucket list.
I think about dying on my worst days but not to **** myself just in general. Anxiety leads to heart disease with exercise. Depression kills 3 in 4 mentally ill people.
I have done a lot of stupid things and I am not an idiot.
I am not my mental illnesses, I just have mental illnesses. If you are reading this I am the gayest girl in my hometown and a legend.

Today is Different because it's my birthday. Chels, what Ken did to me had nothing to do with you. He wanted me in his bed since high school. You had me in your arms the moment we joined SGA.
You challenged me to be a better person so I did what I do best try make everything perfect, spout out truths, apologize profusely and care too much what everyone thinks of me. When we hugged at the first SGA meeting, you liked me back.
Today is Different because it's my birthday. Chels, everything Ken did had nothing to do with you. What you did to me is okay because I expected to be betrayed by someone in SGA that year. You are still my best friend. I know weird expectations. You are still you and I am still me. Eventually, you will understand that.
Today is Different because it's my birthday. Chels, you said drop the good girl act so here I am. Wild, insane, adorable, nerdy, loving, caring and still around. I am a dramatic ***** so come back to me.
If you don't know that already then catch up.

Working through my emotions. Mostly just working in general to forget I have a decision to make. I just got out of an abusive friendship. As much as my emotionally unavailable mother and I bond the bridge is just barely there. As much as I bond with my emotionally abusive father apologize to me nothing is ever right.
I am emotionally and mentally expressive because my parental relationships are so messed up.
Unlike my siblings I am not emotionally stunted. I don't trust many people. I don't like many people. If I care about you then you are special to me. I don't care what people say about us or what they think. I don't even care how bizarre my creative friends are I just don't want to be alone. Their pasts are their pasts as long as they respect mine I respect theirs. I don't like people who judge me because I cuss a lot. I don't like people who have bad vibes.
I have a lot of boundaries I just need normal people to respect them.