My Work Best Friend makes me the most joyful and peaceful person ever. Whenever she compliments me my heart warms up and I feel vulnerable in a good way. I trust her and she trusts me.
We are close to each other. Whenever she calls me the best pizza maker in the world I just smile and glance her way.
Everything just feels natural and right whenever I am around my Work Best Friend. I don't have to be stoic around her. I don't have to be someone that I am not and something that I am not.
She just understands me in a way that I haven't experienced in 6 years since I loss The Girl with Grayish Blue Eyes.
I respect her in a way that she knows that she is valuable to me.
She is my equal in wit and in charm therefore she is worthy of title of being my best friend. Very few people in my life make me joyful and peaceful yet I don't mind. To be insane is to be observant.

I know I want good friendships which I already have.
I know I want a good family which it's dysfunctional but it's fine with me.
I know I want to eliminate anything that is bad for spiritually wise.
I know I want a lover one day but not yet.
I know I want a good career which I am developing with every ounce of my being.
I know what I want from life and I enjoy what I can. It's a good life sometimes dramatic, sometimes messy, sometimes complex and sometimes dark yet still worth living.

To pursue love to find what is true is selfless devotion to one person for a lifetime. People nowadays don't believe in once in a lifetime love anymore because it's a fairytale to them.
To pursue love is saying the truth of the heart's desires and hoping the other person equally wants the same thing.
To pursue love is to go beyond kissing and handholding to writing letters even if you live in the same house together.
To pursue love is talk about someone as if they are the whole world and hope that you are their moon.
To pursue love is to act like an idiot no matter how many times you rehearse every word you are going to say.
To pursue love is to remember the small things are the big things.
To pursue love is present an idea so new to both of you that considering the future is a must.
To pursue love is be without lust because selfishness should have nothing to do with either of you.

I saw her at Goodwill yesterday while I was working.
She smiled at me and I smiled back.
I felt butterflies in my stomach all over again and I felt the old flame rising up in my heart as I gazed at her beauty.
But we aren't getting back together.
I regret nothing about our history together. In fact I am grateful that last year she was my girlfriend for a month and a half.
Even though she is my ex girlfriend I am glad I could I feel that all over again even if it was for a few seconds.

One day I will marry someone but not right now because I am single.
Quite frankly I am enjoying being single.
One day someone will make me believe in true love again but not right now because it is difficult to find a soulmate.
One day I will be out of my parents' house where I will be free to make my own mistakes and achievements.
One day I will be out of my religious small town and have new start.
But until that day I will still be me because that isn't changing.

I am Changing the Key to my heart.
I require to not feel like I have been spiritually violated.
Every memory I go through of the Girl with Green Eyes and Scientist Boy No.2, I realized that I was emotionally abused both ways.
I trusted too easily. I loved them too much. I cared too much.
I gave them a friendship that they can never replace because I am too good for them. And they are too bad for me.
I am Changing the Key to my heart because I tore my walls down long ago because I thought that vulnerability was power.
I trust neither of them now. I don't know where to start with either of them I just know that I need to figure out a way to escape their expectations of me.

Every time I was angry with the Girl with Green Eyes it was justified by the fact that she never paid attention.
Every time that I was angry with the Girl with Green Eyes she would pray for me not understand me.
Every time I was angry with the Girl with Green Eyes she would say that my cussing was ungodly.
Every time I would call out her selfishness she would forgive my rage.
Every time I would notice her avoiding people I would follow her to see if she was okay, of course she would never tell me how she really felt.
Anger is not my problem it's how she treated me that made me sense the distance between us.

It's not always figure out someone's weaknesses and strengths to get out of a situation sometimes it's seeing all of potential of a good person and forgetting they aren't that angel yet in fact a demon.
It's not always telling someone the root of their hurt sometimes it's seeing a monster and loving them as if they are human because the world is cruel enough.
It's not always defending your character to someone that won't listen sometimes it's showing someone that not all angels are gods to be worshipped.
It's not always starting a rebellion from Christianize society sometimes it's acting as if you aren't a judge but a friend who is willing to look past the flaws to see someone worth through hell and back for.
Changing the Game is a matter of humanity, it's up to us to change the world.

The Ancient History of Anglo-Saxonism started off with the English to the French because cultures aren't the same therefore different.
Being different isn't bad and being all the same isn't good.
If everything is the same then nothing is interesting and there would be no cultures to learn from. If by Trump standards making America White Again means getting rid of diversity and new ideals because the American Dream is a fairytale. Chances of becoming a millionaire is a ratio 1 in 1,000 meaning slim to none.
Ancient History teaches us: Hubris is humanity's downfall, Small gods still have backstories, everyone have weaknesses and greed is fruitless. I am not saying conquering places is evil, I am saying ancient history means starting new chapters not repeating past mistakes.

That which every human knows of fear, we, humans have the natural instinct to fear anything from the dark to love itself.
That which every human knows to fear love at some point in life, either from too many heartbreaks or a bad relationship that haunts your very being or both. Or simply the fear of being lonely, going from one relationship to the next without not knowing you truly are and what kind of person you want.
Or the fear of being alone, here is the thing there is a huge difference between being alone and being lonely. Being alone is a decision. Being lonely is a feeling that comes with depression. The fear of being alone is going one companion to the next because misery loves company. In a way I understand those fears because one of these fears are mine. Sometimes the only way to defeat fear is to make new friends or to stop going from relationship to relationship and figure yourself out.

Love is someone who called you their Supergirl.
Love is wildfire and electricity.
Love is them being my Lena Luthor.
Love is indescribable, passionate, all consuming and true.
I know was first true love with you my Lena Luthor.
Because I love you too.
And if you are reading this. I never questioned your love.
Love is sometimes starting over and I want us to be friends again.
Because this Supergirl will never give on you.
You said, "Drop the innocent girl act."
So here is me being bold.

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.

He isn't perfect. In fact he is a **** in many ways. He is the new kid at the gas station I work at. He said rumors that weren't true to my coworkers. At first my bosses believed him then everyone figured out he was wrong about me in many ways.
He assumes anything about everyone around him and everyone of my coworkers hates him for spreading rumors about me.
He picks hard battles against the kitchen manager and the store manager. He respects no one at work. He thinks everyone is against him. He forgot about manners when customers be rude to him.

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.

It's like drowning in a lake of blue flames.
It's like every pounding of your heart wanting someone you know you shouldn't have.
It's wanting so deeply that you breathe to feel that rush of desire consume every sense of your body.
It's a need to be near someone until your lips are on theirs.
It's a need to have their presence seep into yours like a warm blanket on a cold day.
Why do I have this desire if I am too selfless to feel it be fulfilled again?

Anyone else feel alone? Because I feel so distant from the life I was raised in. Maybe I was always distant from my church life I just didn't notice.
A World Alone from my church friends because I don't want to be a chasten woman.
A World Alone from my church friends because I have faith but I am openly bisexual.
A World Alone from my church friends because I already lost my virginity to a girl in college. It was a perfect night.
A World Alone from my church friends because even though I have an innocent girl act for them, at heart I am a rebel.
A World Alone from my church because I refuse to be ignorant.
A World Alone from my church friends because I prefer to marry a woman.

Living to full potential is wonderful, a hero's journey, a villain's nightmare and a rebel's dream.
Some people don't know how so they get lost in the world and blend in.
Some people have a direction and forget the passion then live an empty life.
Some people have so much passion and so many directions that they take all of them to live a successful, memory-enriched life.
Some people simply exist and have nothing to live for then they live a soulless, heartless life where bitterness is their motive.
Life has meaning you just need to find it.

I grew up in the church and I enjoyed most of it.
I am just sick and tired of hiding in the closet around people who have known me, my whole life.
I know they won't support me in any way because of church politics and right now I am not ready to be kicked out of my church yet.
But when I am ready to for everyone to know who I am then I will face the music.

He is a sweetheart to those who work hard.
He is like a brother to me.
He may be demanding, entitled and an idiot but he is a good man.
He defends my honor on multiple occasions to my boss and to customers. He listens to me. He helps me clean dishes in the kitchen.
He helps prep vegetables with me and he makes me smile on long nights. He treats me like the queen that I am.
He is trustworthy, loyal, speaks his mind and makes everyone feel seen.

Grief reawakens each year yet all I can remember of my best friend is her kindness and her love. I still feel her love even though she is dead.
Well her body is dead but her spirit is very much alive.
Grief is what no one prepares you for. The constantly missing them, and knowing their spirit is with you. I always leave a space in bed for my best friend's spirit because I know she would do the same if I was dead. She died 8 years ago yet her spirit is alive.
Grief is feeling that huge scar on your heart and knowing the love you have someone else never left.

I write poetry to give a voice to people like me who are bisexual, mentally disabled and mentally ill.
I write poetry to give a voice to bipolar people and schizophrenic people because I am bipolar and schizophrenic. And chances are they are afraid to speak up because of stigma regarding the mentally ill and the mentally disabled.
I write poetry to give a voice to bisexual people because I know hiding in the closet *****. And I want to give those people hope if they are trapped in a religious community. Because other queer gave me hope while I am trapped in my religious community. We don't even have a Pride Parade in my town.
I write poetry because I am free here among my fellow poets.

Didn't say this then saying this now:
I love you too my Lena Luthor.
I will always be your Supergirl.
You were my first queer love and I am glad you told your parents about us.
I would be nothing but a lovesick lunatic if you didn't give that love confession last year.
You inspired me to be a better poet.
You inspired me to sing my heart out.
Didn't say this then saying this now:
I want us to be friends again. One of these days. Some part of me will always love you Chelsie!

I found the old you in a letter. You had so much humanity.
I found the old you in a letter. You were afraid to lose me as a friend.
I found the old you in a letter. Too bad you turned into someone I didn't recognize. You used to be a sweet guy then college turned you into a monster.
I found the old you in a letter. Maybe you were always a monster but I couldn't see it in your handsome dark pink smile and charming blue green eyes.
I found the old you in a letter. Truly I am sorry our friendship didn't last forever. But you were trapped in your misery and you wanted me to be miserable with you. When honestly I was trapped in your world too long so you lost me at your monstrous ways. When you lost your humanity, you lost me as a friend.
I found the old you in a letter. Why couldn't you just stay a sweet guy? The answer is I don't know.

Your naked body against mine.
Dark tan skin and strong muscles.
Your crimson lips on my light pink lips.
How my body fitted like a perfect puzzle piece in your warmth.
Your night blue eyes meeting my coffee brown eyes as I worked at Casey's.
You smile at me at the farmer's market and your cheeks blush scarlet red against your dark tan skin emphasizing your night blue eyes.
I smile back and blush dark pink against my light tan skin making my coffee brown eyes seem darker as I focus on you.
My heart still races looking at you then I remember you are my ex-girlfriend.

He says that I am not bisexual enough because I haven't slept with a single gender.
He doesn't understand how demeaning he is.
He says that *** define sexuality even though he don't know how wrong he is.
He doesn't understand how draining he is.
He says that my little sister is hot and that she probably have lots of *** with the way she looks.
He doesn't understand that his sexist comments makes me feel like ****.
He says that no girl would want me because I am crazy.
He doesn't understand that I listen to him even though I shouldn't.
He doesn't know what he is saying because he doesn't do research on the things that I know about.
I know he is just emotionally and mentally abusing me yet the things he says still hurt me.

People now a days says that, "Vibes are everything" well it's a half truth. Personality and true heart is everything because vibes are one thing but who someone really is. That's how you know.
People are complicated, messy, strange and unsure how to go through life. It's instincts that help me through life because knowing who brings out the worst in people is how I use opposite energy.
I counteract bad people's actions by taking their venom and use my actions to be the antidote.

I love the rush of Adrenaline. To feel as those I am doing something scary yet brave. To look fear in the face and give it the *******.
To feel the blood pumping through your veins at double time.
To feel a weight being lifted off your chest.
Adrenaline is the thrill that I seek because I conquered most of my fears. Why not have something that alerts you from your brain?
Go ahead call me an Adrenaline ******.

No one is 100 percent pure good and no one is 100 percent pure bad.
That is life. We can fictionalize, romanticize and fantasize life as much as we want but that doesn't change people nor the patriarchy.
I see the Good and I observe the Bad.
I grew up going to daycare when both of my parents were busy.
I grew up going to Pegasus Cafe' with my little sister every summer.
I grew up with parents who divorced when I was 7 but always supported my creative lifestyle and always put food on the table.
I grew up resourceful, artistic, special needs classes, lots of therapy which I appreciated because I became a strong, capable young woman.
I grew up with parents who always gave me Christmas presents no matter how poor we were because being middle class Americans doesn't mean I had everything.
I wasn't spoiled with past glory from cross country like my older siblings. I wasn't spoiled with hundreds of friends like my older siblings. I was just me the nerdy, book-loving, small group of trusted friends, video game addict, who have a vocabulary like an English teacher and will take all of the hard roads because they are more fun since anything that is too easy is never true.
Reality is crazy and fantasy is insane so to know the difference is through experience.

If I am being honest, I am good alone. I know what to expect.
I enjoy taking the time to write my poetry and reading the books in my room.
If I am being honest, I have never felt more free than I do right now. I have my work friends and my family.
If I am being honest, I don't know if I believe in: true love or God. I know true love exists but I am good alone. I don't know if God even cares about me.
If I am being honest, working at a thrift store isn't the same as working for a newspaper as a journalist. Maybe one day I can go back to college for journalism.

I go to his studio and gallery. He creates all types of art.
He teaches people how to make art of their own.
He is an old, kind man who creates connections with other local artists in the Midwest. He is a friend of mine.
He is surrounded by other people's art and his own.
He wears rectangle glasses and have white hair marking his age.
He is going to let me read my handwritten poems at his studio in the winter.

I read old letters hoping to take in the love of the past.
It's like eating stale bread in war times hoping it's enough to fill that roars into the light and dark.
It's leftover love yet I devour it hoping it heals my broken-heart.
I read old letters yet there was a time where the letters sustained hope in me.
It's leftover love and the more I read of the past, the more it breaks my heart.
It's leftover love and it no longer brings me hope yet I devour it to revive what is left of my heart.

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.

Frigid night as the snow continues to fall.
People at the library.
Deep, navy blue sky.
Clicking of computer keys and the sweet smell of books.

My experiences are mine to share.
Thank you everyone for supporting my poetry! I really appreciate it. This is my safe place. So I am glad people like you enjoy my experiences.
To Anyone Who Listens, I love you people.
To Anyone Who Listens, This army is worth celebrating.
To Anyone Who Listens, I consider you people my friends.
To Anyone Who Listens, If I could give everyone hugs I would in a heartbeat.

Only a handful of people know that I am a demiromantic bisexual.
Imagine having crowds of people are only friends with you because you are religious and straight. Then imagine only having a small group of people knowing the real you. That's my life.
It's complicated and I don't trust a majority of people in my life.
I was raised in a church and with my rebellious soul, a curious mind so naturally I read anything with facts. I became a well read nerd and made friends quickly no matter their background.
I could get the truth out of anyone because my presence makes people feel safe and I am a good person.

She has dark blue eyes, black glasses and a smile that makes my heart skip a beat.
She has a slender body, chestnut brown hair and when she looks me with her dark blue eyes I forget what I am doing so I smile back.
She is beautiful in ways I try to understand from the way she laughs to the way she walks. So I appreciate her beauty with each glance in her direction.
She is confident, smart, funny, vivacious and beautiful. I know she isn't mine to love but I hope whoever she loves, loves her the way she deserves to be loved.
I still care about her even if she isn't mine to love.

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!

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

That one wedding long ago, she was in a night blue dress.
I was in trance looking across the dance floor to this beautiful creature.
She glanced from her friends to me then she smiled at me.
The more we gazed at each other, I felt electricity.
With every twist and turn I was trying to impress her with my dance moves.
And I did impress her with my dance moves then she disappeared.

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.

What am I mad with? For if I am mad with love. Who is it for?
What am I mad with? For if I am mad with desire. Why is it swallowing me whole?
What am I mad with? For if I am mad with death. What am I mourning?
What am I mad with? For if I am mad with courage. What is my sacrifice?
What am I mad with? For if I am mad with sorrow. What am I sad about?

That night I felt her naked body beneath my hands.
That night I felt her lips against mine. The passion and the pain of making love. Her blue eyes and dark brown hair.
Those rosy red lips and that smile. Her enjoying my wild side and me taking in her madness. Before we even touched I was dressed as Rao and her as Christine from The Phantom of the Opera.
I woke up the next morning with a freshly bitten ear and my shins bruised also I walked with a limp. Then the rumors that slept with a girl.
I don't know what to say what is dream and what is reality. I guess it was real. The rumors made it from my college to my religious small town. I only told one person that secret and whoever that was told the whole school. I don't remember ever leaving my bed that night but somehow that dream was a reality.

Growing up I remember in high school I was always single.
Valentine's Day is always a big thing in my small town.
But me being single in high school I didn't have anyone.
There was singing telegrams or crush soda can given to your crush.
But I never received a singing telegram or a crush soda.
Nobody had a crush on me well except my friend Ken.
Our senior year on Valentine's Day, he gave me a rose then we went to Sunrise Cafe as friends.
It wasn't until after I dropped out college he and I would go to romantic places as friends. He kept begging for us to be more than friends again. Then he would propose to me over text messages but I refused. He made me a last resort whenever a girl blocked him on the internet or didn't like him on a date. Simply because I would pick our hangout spots. He just wasn't romantic and his proposals weren't sincere. He just didn't want to be alone. And I refuse to be anyone's last resort. Even when he did make me a priority I could tell it was out of his loneliness, he wanted me not out of a sincere romantic notion of he thinks that I am important to him.
That's the difference between him and I: when I am romantic, I am sincere while he loved out of sense of misery. Then again our friendship ended because he was emotionally draining and he wasn't spontaneous or sincere. Sometimes two people who are total opposites shouldn't attract.

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.

No matter how you celebrate whether in hiding or among allies you are valid. I celebrate in hiding again this year but my family and friends support me. My church friends still don't know that I am bisexual. Then again I don't want my pastor to know that I am bisexual otherwise I would be kicked out of church.
I am out and proud in my town but I am in hiding at my church.
Most days I feel like both genders or somewhere in between but still me, still human; somedays, I feel like a woman and other days I feel like a man because I am a genderfluid woman. Which a whole different story. It's simple to me because I experience being genderfluid everyday. I guess anything can be simple when you experience it.
Anyways, Happy Pride Month everyone!

I have a twinge of pain in my chest then that pain spreads all across my body. I try not to look into the mirror.
But as a woman my features seem sharper and my curves are all I can see.
I gaze at myself in the mirror and see my coffee brown eyes then I look down to my lips still light pink. I love myself but I feel uneasy.
My anxiety is cranked up to 100 and all I want to do is tell someone that I am a gender fluid, bisexual woman.

I hope my life is interesting to all you readers.
I hope my experiences are worth thinking about.
I write these stories about my life because I needed to start somewhere. I couldn't keep them all to myself that sounds selfish of me. Especially to poets and readers like you. As an audience, I love poetically making these speeches. To the people I fell in love with, I hope it gave you my perspective. To the people I called out and roasted, I am not sorry for my rebellious writings.
My past is not up for debate and my future is what I own. My present well I am cherishing every moment of it. The Good, The Bad and The Ugly.

The World is Divided between Republicans and Democrats.
The World is so Divided between two halves of itself it is blind.
The World is Divided between red and blue that it forgets the color purple.
The World is Divided between moral and liberalism that it forgets that both is an option.
The World is Divided between truth and lies that we forget what the truth is.

I always have to decide what to wear. Whether I want to wear something masculine or something feminine.
Sometimes something that is gender neutral.
So far I have only told two people know that I am gender fluid.
Everything feels new. Eventually things will be somewhat normal.

A name as powerful as my own. The girl who stole my pride, broke my heart and took my virginity. She drove me mad and read all of my poetry from my journals and notebooks. I didn't mind. She had me at we how gazed at each other.
She wanted me for my charm, talent and heart. She used to sleep with me in my bed to comfort me on my worst nights. She made me the legend of my hometown. She did research on my past and loved me.
She was my muse. I forgive her, I just don't forget. She called a day ago. Telling me that I was never an ******* to her, that I was her best lover out of all of her girlfriends, that I should update my voicemail and that she hopes that I live a happy life with her older sister. Also that she misses me. I still miss her and I don't regret anything. I knew I recognized those blue eyes from somewhere its genic.
She is in a psychiatric hospital right now. I never knew how insecure she felt about her own voice until I heard her have a meltdown on my phone. I want to visit her but I don't know where she is. Deep down I know she is my best friend and I don't know maybe it the fact that made me feel wild without doing anything. She touched my heart so she is worth it. I know that I just hope she does too. She is still human. She is still my girl even with all that madness.