Thank you readers and poets for my poetry and I!
I would be no where without you guys and gals.
Merry Christmas Eve! Enjoy the holidays!

It happens every year. Stores all decorated for Christmas.
People spending money on expensive gifts.
It is romantic the Christmas Walk.
There is hot chocolate. A Christmas tree lighting.
All kinds of singing. All before Christmas.

As Macbeth once said, "Hell is empty and all the devils are here."
We are all fighting our own demons trying our best to get through day by day, night by night.
At wits end to infuriating madness trying to be better than what we once were.
I was once a grief stricken poet turning pain into poetry.
Now I am a beloved poet making sense of my past loves through poetry. So I can be a better lover for whoever comes next in the future.

Cliches' are boring and overused like a 1950's newspaper, it has no relevance.
There are so many Cliches' and new ones that come with each year.
They stick to people's minds because they are used so often. Cliche' you disgust me, it like a stale piece of bread no one wants it anymore.
Cliches' only stimulates the populace and capitalism.

The awakening deliciousness. The caffeine rolling down my throat.
Milky galaxies swirling, cooling down the steaming brown liquid.
Oh how the brown hues call forth my mind to awake.
The brown liquid I take every morning to handle my mother, in the afternoon to handle work and at night to handle my mental triggers.
In a way it's my drug that manages to bring me back to happiness.
To understand humans so well I need the dark brown liquid.
Coffee isn't alcohol. I know that much. I prefer the bittersweet twang of the Coffee or the buzz of the alcohol. For most humans it's the other way around. I don't understand most humans. Hence being a nerdy rebel. I don't need alcohol to survive my mother, work nor my mental triggers. I just need the Coffee to handle all that. Scientifically, Coffee is a mood stabilizer with mood swings it's the perfect drug and it doesn't need an ID to get nor a doctor's approval.

Your coffee brown eyes and dark brown curly hair.
That smile and your voice.
Owner of a coffee shop, smart, creative, innovative and yet you call me friend.
Coffee Boy, you have no idea how happy both your ambition and dark chocolate Americano make me. I hope we become best friends one day. Your everyone-is-my-friend personality is probably why your coffee shop is so successful.
Coffee Boy, you are an optimistic ray of sunshine in a dreary, pretentious small town. You understand why I am a writer. Same way I understand why you are a coffee shop owner.
Creativity is a lifestyle.
Coffee Boy, you peaked my interest.

Mental illnesses aren't funny.
Mental disabilities aren't funny.
Some moments are comedy.
Having cringy moments at a young age aren't funny they are embarrassing.
Having mental moments aren't funny it's degrading to be made fun of for something you can't change about yourself.
Some moments where people are equals and being stupid together is comedy.

Whenever I smell perfume it reminds me of the girl's locker room and I feel lonely like I did back then.
My chest is tight and in church I just wanted to yell, "I am gender fluid!" But I couldn't I was frozen in my seat.
I counted my breaths and waited for church to get over. Time seemed slower. Of course my mom didn't notice.
Things are already tense between my mom and I. I am afraid to tell her because then she will rebuke me. I know it ,I feel it  in my bones.

Is the courage to love worth it?
Short answer, yes
If you were to ask how so?
Long answer, to love and be loved in return is the greatest thing in the world.
So the courage to love is absolutely worth it. Whether it's new love or old love starting anew. It is always worth it. Because she or he is worth it to you. Because to love is be selfless and love beyond yourself. So yes have the courage to love.
Love so much that you forget what other people are thinking.
Love beyond who you are and become someone amazing.
Because chances are you are amazing.

Day one, surrounded by family members who tested positive for COVID.
Day two, read an article the mentally ill being at high risk and freaking out then read an article about vitamin D deficiency which freaked me out even more. Went to the grocery store and bought vitamin D3. Calmed down a little.
Day three, fatigued and had an headache. Took a nap then started sneezing a lot. My mom got worried about me because she tested positive for COVID.
Day four, I developed a sore throat and everything seemed louder than normal. I tested positive for COVID. I called my boss and told her I couldn't work tomorrow.
Day five, I started coughing and my lungs felt like someone scooped my insides with a spoon vigorously.
Day six, all of my muscles were aching and my nose was running.
Day seven, I never got a temperature just my body tempt going up and down basically shivering to overheating.
Day eight, headache gone and muscle aches gone. Started breathing better.
Day nine, took a nap and felt a little better.
I feel better my nose is running less each day and coughing hurts less. I am not contagious anymore.

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.

I know not to beg for human decency nor a love that isn't selfish.
Scientist Boy No. 2 may be my friend but he is the reason that I don't trust guys anymore. I should have forgotten him the moment he asked me to be his best friend. I didn't have to make that promise in high school. He always asked too much of me and I asked too little of him. It was a selfish promise on his part and a selfless commitment on my part. Yin and Yang isn't how I would describe the friendship. It's more me trying to tolerate his narcissistic personality disorder and less him allowing me to be myself. I keep friend-zoning him and he keeps begging for my hand in marriage. It's a toxic friendship I know that. I always outsmart him on wits yet he keeps placing guilt traps.
It's a never ending war. He never gives me a break. I shouldn't have to babysit a grown man.

Being called weird is an honor and a compliment.
I have been crazy and delusional before which I find to be part of my mental illnesses. Being bipolar and schizophrenic isn't an easy thing.
It's confusing. It's being overemotional and emotionless at the same time. It's being split into two personalities. It's being the empathetic friend and the stand offish alpha female of a group.
It's being analytical and warm while being close off and not trusting anyone. It's being thoughtful and not caring at all.
It's drowning in feelings and living in drought of feeling in the same day.

Darling don't go too far away for the luminous moon can't take away the love I have for you.
Darling for my abstract heart may be tattered and mended I can't stop thinking about you.
Darling for our eclipse is only a few seconds, they are precious moments to me.
Darling, keep gazing at me for I will always love you.

I was used to being wooed by my ex-boyfriend. He wanted my heart but I wanted friendship. He wooed me with books, a t-shirt, roses and Pegasus fudge even coffee yet I never changed my mind.
I was adamant that my heart didn't belong to him. He hated that so he constantly insulted me, called me a ***** and a **** for his own pleasure. The more I faded away from him the more he begged for my heart to be his. I said no to his half-assed proposals, his demeaning love confessions, his wants of *** and his desire to be more than friends because I deserve true love.
There was no spark and no warmth.
It's my first year of not being wooed by him.
It's my first year without him. I am content without him. I am happy without him. I am me without him.

Sometimes it seems days run together in a blur of business and boredom.
Sometimes it seems days run together only remembered by book chapters and hanging out with my parents.
Sometimes it seems days run together tv shows and movies only remembered by my mother's smiles and my laughter.
Sometimes it seems days run together because one moment it's yesterday and the next moment it's today.

I can tell you there is an afterlife. I went to heaven when I died in sleep for one night and met God when I was 11 years old. It was beautiful I got to see my dead grandpa and grandmas again. Everything was bright white and Jesus was there so I got to touch his man-made holes from being nailed onto the cross. I got to see the Heavenly Gates jeweled, full of diamonds, sapphires, emeralds and golden gates. There was a Time Room, there was clocks floating everywhere and the Life Book sitting on a huge oak desk. God told me while I was there, "Don't worry your name is already in it." I wanted to ask him, "What have I done so great that glorifies you?" But the words never made it out of my mouth because the clocks were drowning out my thoughts chiming with light telling me I had to leave. Before I left God said, "You will be back one day, I love you my child."

It's peaceful, it's one moment you are there, the next moment you are no longer breathing.
It's going to heaven for a few moments and then coming back to your body.
It's catching your breath after dying for a few moments.

I know life makes everyone busy.
Life makes heroes spout out lies and villains monologue about truths.
Deep Down no one is perfect.
Deep Down there is no flawless human. Humans collect secrets over the years. Humans are afraid of their past selves. Humans can't look in the void of darkness without losing their minds of the silence.
Humans betray and abandon each other because popularity tempted them to throw everything they hold dear including their feelings.
Deep Down no one is 100 percent good and no one is 100 percent evil.
That is lie and a myth that humans create to degrade themselves.
Deep Down the insane are free of society's chains and the sane live in comfort of their prisons.
Deep Down the mask is facade of lost dreams and the cloak is to hide emotional scars.

I don't need a magic broom to "Defy Gravity" as the musical Wicked implies. I just need ink and paper. I create new chapters of my life. I forge my path. I slip off the expectations like a jacket and hanging it up so it shine up the white room with it's gilded glory.

Depression to me is dying while still living.
Depression to me is forgetting to shower and sleeping too much.
Depression to me is eating too much then throwing up my dinner or eating too little and starving myself to relieve the guilt.
Depression to me is writing to find worth in work in myself.
Depression to me is crying into my pillow to muffle the noise so no one listens to me and reliving flashbacks in my mind.
Depression to me is having the world spinning beneath my feet and not remembering my name.
Depression to me is not being able to breathe and counting to ten.

To touch her, to feel the soft skin.
To feel her warm lips against mine again.
As I see that smile of hers and I feel my heart swell.
As I gaze into her dark blue eyes, everything seems divine.

My parents divorced when I was 7 years old.
I Didn't Ask to Grow Up Early. I have always been mature for my age. My mom abused my stunning looks for her benefit in my religious community. I have always hated going to big gatherings. My dad would let me leave early. My mom would never let me bring a book with me to every social gathering. Even though I would always be bored out of my mind. I always felt numb being at huge gatherings. If I found someone I knew I would have fun, if not I would beg my mom for us to leave early. She wouldn't let us leave early. I am an old soul in a young body. I am peculiar so to say.

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!

From the distance
You see a stoic figure. I can be but I am not always. Close the distance. When you get closer you will find someone who will love you for all your imperfections. Close the distance. You will find someone who will miss you beyond space and time. Distance of insecurities beckons to fear of one another. Distance of minds divides an entire country. So close the distance.

I donated blood the day before yesterday.
As blood seeped out of me through a tube into bags.
Slowly blood flowing. Breathing deeply and trying to relax.
The needle dug into my vein. Yet everything felt right.
Except my hand tingling and I couldn't feel my legs.
But I got feeling back into them quickly.

People say, "To forget is a curse" Or something like that. I don't know.
I get bored listening to normal people talk. It's like watching tennis when observing normal people talk to each other. It's all black and white. So boring. Give me the gray areas of conversations and then I will be interested. I love having strange conversations! It's unpredictable, it's fun and you never run out of conversation starters.
Why do people talk in black and white? I don't know.
Why do people care about other people's *** lives? I don't know. Why do people care about salaries? I don't know.
I never understood small talk probably because I have big dreams.

See I got your attention. Hi, don't die today or the next. It's your life not anyone else's. So ***** them. If they hate you for being different.
**** their opinions! You are special, weird, strange, impossible, loved and valued. If they hate you for being talented. **** their point of view! If you ***** with their minds enough they won't mess with you. I know so because I have evolved over the years into a strong, crazy, beautiful, mature, nurturing and loving young woman. The bullying never broke my mind nor heart. It did give me trust issues and doubt in humanity.

Some of my friends say that I am dramatic. Well not much that I can do there for ya. I enjoy my dramatic flares. It keeps things interesting for me. Some of my friends say that I am crazy. That's true but I will still make genius plans out of thin air. Some of my friends say that I am a ******. Not true because I am in fact a high functioning sociopath with empathetic tendencies. It depends on which friend you ask.  Some are reliable sources. Others not so much. My friends are just as insane as I am just some of them hide it better. Labels are just words that humans create to put misfits into societal boxes.
Dramatic is One Word. Watch out because this dramatic queer got some moves most won't see from a mile away.

Some Dreams are real and others are not.
It's the hard work and stepping out of one's self that people are afraid of.
Some Dreams are weird, new perspective with bizarre storytelling.
Some Dreams are straightforward and dizzying.
Dreams are interpreted in different people and different sources but some are so indescribable it's the question of reality and fantasy.

Drinking to drink is fun because you are in a happy mood.
Drinking while depressed is just asking for the drunkenness to drown you in your sorrow.
Drinking to drink is easy because you don't have to worry about what anyone else thinks.
Drinking while depressed is basically strapping yourself to a rocket and hoping not to die.
Drinking to drink everything is light and bubbly.
Drinking while depressed is diving into the drunkenness and hoping it does **** you.
Drinking to drink is joyful and lighthearted.
Drinking while depressed is hoping the reality fades as you drink yourself into insanity.

I see through people's acts of fakeness and observe their insecurities as well as their hidden secrets. It's fun for me.
I never have to pretend to bored or exhausted around holier-than-thou people at church. It's normally the same stories but different traumas. The kids my age are spur-of-the-moment thrill junkies with different motivations. I get bored observing the same stories.
With geniuses there are unusually bizarre good stories. Each unique and their own. With curious minds you tend to gain a lot of experiences from life.

I may be an odd ball but I will make the ground beneath me crack open from my rage. I find that when I fight a war wits, the Earth Bites Back. Doctors in psychology, medical, therapeutic and logic all agree that I am crazy and insane. I have been through all of the scans, x-rays and tests for mental health. I have medications for my bipolar disorder and my high functioning sociopath-ness. The meds don't take away my creativity nor my high strung rebelliousness. I know how to take care of myself. My psychotic break was the worst thing to go through. I don't have all of my memories from that summer. I know how to decode my literary codes from that summer. I remember the mood swings, the restless nights, going to the hospital, my mom freaking out and me having no idea what was going on. That summer is all a fever dream to me.
The Earth Bites Back what some call crazy, I call genius.
The Earth Bites Back, I don't plan on relapsing my psychotic break.
Mentally, I sound like an alcoholic, too much stimuli and I am everywhere either too high or too low. The fall and winter depression is the worst too. All of the crying, all of the misery, all of the dreary overthinking and all of the sulking over the past.

Fall and Winter is my bipolar seasons.
Spring and Summer is my schizophrenic seasons.
Considering Summer is about to end and Fall is about to begin.
I am ready for the paradigm shift. I am medicated and I have a support system.
I hope I don't relapse. The last time I went bipolar I went catatonic to the point that it scared my dad and mom. The doctors said it was an isolated incident but I am afraid of the chances of it happening again.
It's not that my schizophrenia gets less it is just I notice that my mood swings get more rapid during Fall and Winter.
It's not that my bipolar disorder gets less it is just I notice I am more hyperactive during Spring and Summer.
Much like the Eclipse my mental illnesses interact with each other as though they are the Sun and the Moon.

She is the sun and I am the moon.
She smiles and I smile back.
A few seconds our worlds collide.
For a few seconds I gaze into her dark blue eyes and she gaze back into my dark brown eyes.
For a few seconds she is mine and I am hers.
For a few seconds everything feels right then I am back to my world and she is back to her world.
For a few seconds we are infinite.

There were poets long before Edgar Allen Poe.
But he saw the darkness and wrote about it.
He coined the phrase, "I gazed into the abyss and the abyss gazed back into me". He was historically mentally ill.
He ended up one of the greats. He wrote a story about a man talking to a bird. He wrote a story about the a man with a freaky eye and another man murdering that guy.
He was inspired by the darkness of the world and became known as mad.

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.

The endless, light blue sky holds humanity underneath like cold blanket.
Of winter morn, people going to business meetings, people still buying Christmas presents and waiting for the end of the year.
The endless, light blue sky for one I am seeing today, you are seeing too.
The endless, light blue sky of winter morn, where ice is like glass and snow crunches under foot.

With Schizophrenia and Bipolar Disorder they cancel each other out.
I can't always be emotionless and I can't always be a hot mess of emotions.
I express everything in a brutally honest way.
I don't always know when I cross someone's boundaries because I like getting into the deep, soulful things.
I forget the rules of communication a lot because I am curious as every writer is. I enjoy finding truths in the darkness.
I don't have a filter for all of my thoughts. They spill out all at once.
People find it weird for my young age that I seek knowledge from books in the library rather than online resources.
I search deeply for answers to my life's questions from the library because stories ring with truths. I am rebellious I don't want answers from my parents all of the time. Normally my researches are fruitful.
If I know what I am searching for then I am on the right path. On the right mindset. You can't be lost if you know which direction you are going.

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.

Everyone have their own perspective and everyone exists on some level of consciousness.
People trust some certain group in a way that is part of human nature.
Existing is simple but Trust is difficult.
Trust is something that needs to be earned and nurtured within a friendship or relationship. Trust is peeling away the act and the mask to reveal who you really are which is the most intimate thing anyone can do.
Existing is living in a world that is afraid of realness. Existing is going through life as though each day is a stepping stone.
Which one is harder to do Existing or Trust?

Being fully healed from lovesickness is wanting to love but curiosity still wins every time.
She is vivacious with her dark blue eyes and slender body.
She is wants me to be more than friends with her.
She flirts with a smile and captures my heart.

Coffee, strong and bold.
Outside is cold.
Coats and jackets.
Christmas shopping and hanging out with family.
One more week of Fall then stepping into Winter.

I understand a lot of things for my young age which makes me crazy somehow. I don't understand normal people and normalcy.
I am not normal because I have always been weird and beautiful.
My outer beauty doesn't define me. My heart and mind defines me.
Falling in Love isn't The Mistake. It is the losing your mind over someone who doesn't love you back that makes it a mistake.
Falling in Love shouldn't be about outer beauty or compatibility.
Falling in Love shouldn't be whether the person has a rich family nor their friends ignorance. Falling in Love should be about whether you enjoy who they are, their friends sense of humor and seeing if they have an unspoken honor code. I haven't found my person yet. But someday I hope whoever they are will love me back and will be fine with my boundaries.

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!

It's the bonded trust and the dysfunction.
It's fighting over stupid stuff. It's stealing clothes from each other's dresser. It's telling truths and accepting each other.
It's celebrating birthdays together and playing board games on holidays.

In a world full of self-absorbed people who have inferiority and superiority complexes it's impossible to know if you are handling a demon or an angel.
Filtered Conversations is like selecting a small percentage of your personality and standing on a stage telling the world a story.
I have no filter I will pick a topic and read the room. Some will call me an old soul and others will call me mature for my age.
It's the same label either way.

We are humans living in a Flawed System.
Where having a heart and a mind is frowned upon.
Where being brainwashed by society is normal.
Where billionaires runaway from plagues instead of curing them.
Where being poor gives you empathy and being rich gives you sympathy somewhere in between is apathy. To not care is be lonely.
To care too much is be beloved. Somewhere in between is an average life. I don't know what average and normalcy is.
I am a special needs kid who is mentally disabled and mentally ill.
To be mental is to have people invalidate the disability and the illnesses. I am used by society for my strengths. My weaknesses are disregarded. To live is to be misunderstood.

What if hate is just an emotion cloaked by insecurities and love is naked in truths?
People are afraid of truths and manipulate the stage for attention for their lies.
Anxiety is guessing the future by predicting the emotions by a script written in fear of abandonment.
Depression is not caring and living in true hopelessness as if it's the only despair that matters.
Having both is contradicting yourself to the point that people around you get confused.
What if being unapologetically about who you are is the only way to live without fear and hopelessness?

I shoot for the stars aiming to part of sky. To shine for even a little while is worth it. I run towards my dreams. Seeing my reality sprawled across the pages like a pet cat looking for love.
The rebel with a silver tongue. The wild yet mild mannered reporter with a tender heart gazing into the dangerous, loud world hoping to become something. Reading books to have a world to be free from society's grasp on my identity as a female writer.