He is tall, reeks of sweat and gas station food.
He leaves a mess in the kitchen of the gas station.
You don't care who you make clean your messes as long as you leave beforehand. You got a girl pregnant, it's your life.
I don't know how you still got a job at the gas station.
Your girl works harder than you do.
Everyone knows it. So drop the entitle white guy act and actually do your job better.

I was taught to be cold and calculated by my mother.
I was emotionally and mentally neglected by her.
Everything I learned about mentality and emotions was from cause and effect. I was raised by therapists of all sorts, be beloved by everyone who have ever met me, church moms who cared about me and youth pastors treating me like I was their kid.
My mom always says when someone asks how her kids ended up so great, "God raised my kids." In a way that's true.
Being the only special needs kid in my family means I had to work 4 times harder than my siblings in order to get any praise from my parents. I learned faster than siblings because they trusted too easily in humanity and I trusted too little in humanity.
I knew the expectations and pressure of being myself.

The fake conversations, the empty knocking on the chest, people trying to get surface chit chat out of the way and awkward pauses waiting to leave.
The ticking of a clock as someone talks about their true love as if it's going to last forever. They talk about what their lover does not their lover's characteristics. They talk about where their lover got the ring from not their lover's devotion to them as if it's by human connection.
People forget that most married straight couples are in empath/narcissist relationships, toxic, abusive and controlling relationships. Hallmark paints the typical Christian romance no matter how recycled the cliche' relationship is in an ever changing culture. The swallow your feelings and look happy culture of Christianity with the patronizing lectures about being virtuous and godly individuals when the mold is framed with sins.
The church is full of gossipers, narrow minded, conservatives and the invisible hierarchy of Christian people.

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.

She has night black hair, steel gray eyes and plump scarlet lips.
She glanced over at me throughout my dinner with my parents.
Her seductive steel gray eyes and scarlet smile entranced me in her beautiful large curves of her bodice.
Even though I couldn't ask for her number, I got her name.
It's Leila. She was our waitress.

To be stoic and emotionless is praised upon.
To be emotional and heart-broken is frowned upon.
Let Men Have Emotions, all that toxic masculinity isn't good for anyone.
Let Men Have Emotions, they don't get live much without them.
Let Men Have Emotions, the ******* who rule the earth aren't allowing themselves to feel at all.
Let Men Have Emotions, not all sweet boys are gay and not all angry men are straight.

Let's remember Nex Benedict as they were. They shouldn't have died at that young of an age.
Let's remember the 33 transgender and gender nonconforming people  who died this year because of hate crimes.
Let's remember there is more to humanity than just cruelty.
Let's remember there is more to life than the harshness of life.
I know I say this while hiding my gender identity but there is boldness in silence.
Let's remember anyone of us in the LGBTQ community would have accepted Nex Benedict as one of us because they were one of us.
So live boldly! This isn't about me, this is about remembering the dead. The dead deserve to be remembered.

Some say that Letting Go is easy. I am not referencing the song from Frozen. I mentioning the act of Letting Go of Pain and Suffering.
Letting Go of something that you think is suppose to be bounded to you. But your heart pleads no to holding onto the pain and the hurt.
The gut is out interrogating all the memories to see where the beginning. While the mind looks for what is left of the good moments. Letting Go of those guilty feelings and the regret feelings because those feelings shouldn't be there. When you love someone despite all of the gaslighting and abuse those feelings are inevitable.
But when you know you should Let Go of the pain because they no longer bring joy. Maybe it's the fear of losing the hint of anger.
Maybe it's the reminder that they don't control you anymore yet those feelings being present mean Letting Go since there is no memory to justify a victim taking the blame. Even if that victim is you build the courage and let go to find peace within. It isn't easy but the hardest things require the most bravery.

My life is bittersweet like coffee.
I have a lot of good memories and a lot of bad memories.
I loss my most of my grandparents when I was younger.
I loss my best friend when I was 15 years old.
I got into an emotionally abusive friendship at 18 years old.
It took 4 years for me to build the courage to get out of that emotionally abusive friendship.
When I loss my best friend I was afraid to love again because the grief swallowed me whole. I didn't think I could bounce back from that but I did because I expressed and spoke about my emotions openly.
When I got into that emotionally abusive friendship I felt trapped as though no one could understand. That traumatic bond I had with my ex boyfriend wasn't worth how awful he treated me. That traumatic bond wasn't worth how unhappy I was with him.
I didn't think I could recover from that but I did.
When I was diagnosed with bipolar disorder and schizophrenia at 20 years old because of my psychosis I didn't think I could get back to myself but I did.
Life Considered it is pretty good. I experienced a lot through out the years and I am still me.

Being invisible when I was in school most people didn't bat an eyelash at the things I wrote on the internet because I abstained from having ***. My atheist friend makes fun of me for it, he jokes that I am asexual but he just doesn't understand that I want trust and love when I have *** with someone. Is that so wrong? I am monogamous and a hopeless romantic. When I kiss someone I want them to trust me. I kissed a girl in college and it was worth it. The guys I kissed growing up had nothing on her except for my first kiss when I was 7 years old. Bisexuality is not a phase, isn't a trend, and most certainly isn't an excuse to cheat on anyone of any gender.

I am not high class. I don't read erotica or watch ****. Because gross. Why would I ever want to ruin my mind with degrading stuff that sexualize women to the point where it is unrealistic? I respect men and women. Boundaries are there for a reason. I am not hetero. Most lesbians are actually quite good influences to hangout with. My closest friends are bisexual.
Trans people are the most accepting of most people.
I have met too many straights with fake expectations of humans. Humans are messy, weird, inconsiderate, stupid, selfish and talk too much. Normal is just another word for bland.

Mental Illness is like taking poison everyday.
Some days you have to wait for the full, severe affect for it destroy your body.
Other days there is an antidote to the poison on standby so there is nothing to worry about.
Then there is the gray areas of the poison and the antidote where the use of either are basic human nature.

It's sitting in your bed reading a book having no idea what to do with your day.
It's standing in your room hearing the deafening silence and feeling like you are suffocating from being the only one there.
It's walking by yourself listening to music with a sad smile on your face hoping no one thinks you are depressed.
It's going to a cafe by yourself and trying not to feel like an emptiness is consuming you.
It's the loneliness that I am used to. I have grown so used to my solitude that I like being alone.

Long ago I had panic attacks every fall and spring.
Long ago my depression would act up during winter and summer.
Long ago I thought I only had anxiety and depression because it's most common in middle schoolers.
Long ago I thought my manic episodes and my panic attacks coexisted together because I was the broken hearted writer who nobody could fix.
Long ago I thought during college I only ever got depressed because my academics were getting more difficult for me.
Long ago I thought during high school that my closest friends called me weird, crazy, silly and smart because of my anxiety got me into awkward conversations with my church friends because only my creative, genius friends could understand my nonsense.
Long ago for every cross country meet I would get nervous.
Long ago I didn't know that I have bipolar disorder and schizophrenia.
Long ago I didn't need to be fixed because I needed to be medicated for my mental illnesses.

God told me to keep going.
And to focus on the center of my heart.
But to keep going where? What am I doing that He wants me to keep doing? I know my heart is special to God.
It has been a Holy Spirit filled weekend.
It may be me making new friends at work or me making poetry.
So I am going to keep making poetry.

Some stages never come down and the people stuck in their own shows. All of the acting and pretending to be something they are not.
Ask them revealing questions and they give you a real, deep answer then they stopped acting for you.
Surprise them by stop acting like a demigod or a demon. Masks may be good props but horrible excuses to explain to someone. Use real resources not fake, plastic curtains. Society may like fakers and pretend people but real people don't like any of that.
Living a peaceful life is fun, relaxing and honest.
What does drama give you? A lot of ******* and consequences to deal with.

To have a boss that can't stand someone that wants to help a best friend at work seems unreasonable. I work on cashiering and doing kitchen help. I work with men each night but my work best friend is a woman. I have every right to help up there as much as I help back there. I am not the only one who can do dishes. I am not the only one who can help cashiers when they need it.
I guess it's a rite of passage to have a **** boss though I could say worst but I won't. He thinks his actions are justified even they based off his mood. I am the only night shift kitchen worker that is a woman. I have every right to do both because I signed up for both.
I didn't sign for his attitude or his being chums with other guys.
It's human nature but clearly he doesn't study it because he is a kitchen manager.

Most people are like glass, transparent and fragile.
Glass is of many colors and designs like people.
As though the secrets behind the glass are just plays compared to the pictures on display.
Secrets are the poison of the world. Anyone can make them. Anyone can hurt anybody. I see right through them and observe their behaviors. I discern the characteristics and know the problems that surround them.
Looking through Glass if you know what to look for.

Sometimes I am a hero and other times I am a villain.
The stories change from person to person.
I embrace my madness and my flaws.
Look me in the eyes, what do you see?
I am insane and I am okay with that. Other people aren't okay with my insanity. I can't cure my insanity. It's simply there lurking and waiting for me to feel insecure.
Look me in the eyes, do I seem like the person to manipulate anyone?
Let me answer that for you no I don't use people that's boring and evil. People use me not the other way around.

My little sister blasting music.
My mom watching television at a blaring volume.
My dad watching YouTube videos on his phone at a deafening tone.
All of us waiting to go to my Grandma Kay's apartment.

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.

Your smooth skin beneath my hands. Me holding you so tight to my chest. Your soft lips against mine. Your gentle hands holding up my head. I swore all of time stood still when we kissed. Your chest against mine. We were two puzzle pieces stuck together effortlessly.
You sitting on my lap. It could have been 5 seconds or a whole minute but I never kept track of time. You whispered in my ear that I look better shirtless. When you got off my lap and let go of my head I could breathe again. And you kissed me again on the lips. It was deeper and more passionate than the kiss before it.

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.

Love is bewildering, she puts this ***** happy smile on my face just by existing.
Love is bewildering, she gets me in ways I am still learning.
Love is bewildering, she puts me in a love daze.
Love is bewildering, yet I am not confused, I am perplexed.
Love is bewildering, I am perplexed because she makes me feel indescribable things just by talking to me and considering me her equal.
Love is bewildering, she is definitely into me and hell yeah I will do anything to be with her.
Love is bewildering, we haven't even kissed yet but I know what we have is special to me.
Love is bewildering, I haven't even held her in my arms yet but somehow that doesn't matter because I will wait however long it takes just to hear her call me hers.
Love is bewildering, I haven't even felt her bare skin beneath my hands yet I will wait until we get there so I hope I don't mess this up.

Love is Madness.
It is felt in the depths of your soul.
Love is Madness, It is falling completely in love with someone worth the madness.
Love is Madness, To be insane I already know of Madness now I have to find the Love that I lost ages ago.
Love is Madness. It is losing your mind one moment and regaining yourself in their arms.
Love is Madness. It is being their one and only who truly knows them.
Love is Madness. I had Love that was Madness once. I am trying to get back to that not the idea of it.

Love isn't agreeable.
I was talking to a girl for a week and we constantly agreed with each other. Then she broke up with me now it is just radio silence.
Love isn't agreeable.
I understand now her brokenness and my brokenness didn't fit together. I am glad she bruised my pride because now I see us constantly agreeing with each other wasn't healthy.
Love isn't agreeable.
Why should it be? Love is rough and unique. That was just infatuation not love for a week.

Love is Peculiar,
she is on my mind all the time.
Love is Peculiar,
she is in my dreams.
Love is Peculiar,
I am enraptured in her dark blue eyes.
Love is Peculiar,
My heart sings her name.
Love is Peculiar,
I crave her presence.
Love is Peculiar,
Every time I see her at work, she makes my day better.

Love is gentle like a cool breeze on a summer day.
Love is strong like arms wrapped around you like a hug.
Love isn't always forever but it is worth it.
Love is sweet like a deepened kiss
Love is passionate like a love confession years later.
Love is affectionate like being told I love you years later.
Love is indescribable.

Being lovesick is like being punched in the gut instead of the face.
Being lovesick is like your crush shot you in the chest.
Being lovesick is forcing yourself to eat when you don't feel hungry.
Being lovesick is feeling nauseous at a familiar scent.
Being lovesick is feeling your broken heart consume you with depression.

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?

I never had to hide my madness. I am crazy and insane.
Madness is my home. It isn't a fickle feeling or a short wisp of happiness. It's embracing every flaw and painting a new reality every day. It's existing in a thriving state of being human. It's evolving to a better version of yourself to feel accomplished in every human way possible.
Madness is my home. I never have to pretend to be me. My reality changes with every mood-swing. Each panic attack, anxiety attack and depressive episode gives me new awareness of my reality.
Noticing every small detail in a person comforts me in a weird way.
Madness is my home. I have trust issues, mental illnesses and a collection of trauma. This is how I live and I love every minute of it.

Magic is fake, I seek no wealth from any psychic.
Magic is fake, they are just people hiding behind a mask.
Magic is fake, they are just people with pretentious mumbo jumbo that are begging for money from vulnerable people and it is sickening.
Magic is fake, mediums can go ***** themselves.
Don't seek anything from mediums or psychics because they are phonies.
Magic is fake, all it leaves you with is a headache and more confused than you were before.

Maybe I am still in love with my straight Christian green eyed best friend. But that would be insane. Absolutely insane.
Maybe she changed while on her internship in Ohio. I mean she wants to be a photographer now. That's good I think, I hope.
Maybe she isn't as bad as I thought she was. No that's ridiculous even by my standards. She is still a hubris idiot with a kind heart.
Maybe, she rebuked me for being bi and she would never accept the fact I had a crush on her in high school. Why do she have to be so adorable and beautiful?
Maybe we aren't so different. She is still human and I am this Phantom that makes pain into poetry.
Maybe she was lonely without me which I highly doubt. She is this angelic gorgeous girl that follows all of the rules and I am this nerdy, out-spoken, rebellious girl that knows where I am going in life.
I don't follow all of the rules, I break the status quote, I challenge society's perspectives with my own and I lead my misfit army.
Maybe she is the beta wolf now and I am the alpha wolf because she is way too polite to challenge anyone to a battle of wits where as I do it all of the time. I pick my battles, fight my demons, embrace the path I am going on, prove people wrong all of the time, let people know my opinions and write until I feel free. What is she without me? She would be lost, heart-broken and confused without me.

I learned most things quickly now that I have a job.
The simple things are easy to earn when the person you are friends with mutually cares for and loves you.
Not through manipulation. Not through co-dependency.
Not through personal gain. Not through allowing rumors to spread.
Not through letting yourself be vulnerable while the other person reveals nothing at all. Not through them guilting you to trust them.
Not through believing their ******* thinking they are better than anyone. Because friendship and love in general is a selfless thing which worth everything that it costs when you aren't being taken advantage of by people who can't humble themselves to the point of mutual respect and equality of effort.
Because friendship and love in general requires both people understanding nonsense of life by which the small things are the big things. Because friendship and love in general isn't about selfishly taking the feelings of love as an illusion since love itself is a reality of becoming greater for the good of the friendship.
Maybe I am not mad for wanting simple things and becoming mature at a young age.
Maybe I am just better at seeing through people's masks because I know what real friendship is.

Maybe I am drawn to challenging circumstances because adversity is how my mother raised me.
Maybe I am magnetic to bringing some form of pain into my life whether it's by my own mind or my childhood of mother controlling my decisions or convincing myself that the Girl with Green Eyes was a good friend until I figured out she wasn't or my ex-boyfriend emotionally abusing me.
Maybe it is this way because I allow it or I simply am so used to adversity that I don't know what to do without it.

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.

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.

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.

Those deep, dark blue eyes still echo remnants of our love.
Even it was an old love.
Those crimson lips, how I remember kissing those lips.
You came to check up on me while I was at work yesterday.
That dark tan skin, I remember it's softness.
I remember that defined muscles beneath that t-shirt.
I still remember your kind soul. And I remember you helped me through a panic attack when I used to work at Casey's.
I am glad that I met someone like you all those years ago. You are someone so endearing. I know you are my ex-girlfriend but if you are reading this thanks for all those years ago.

I didn't get as much attention from my parents as my two older siblings did. But I did win the hearts of both of my parents.
My dad loves me in the traditional sense the way a father can love his daughters and son. I may be the 3rd born. I am one of the middle children with my big brother. My dad always went to my cross country meets and defended my sanity to my mom every time.
My mom loved me by forcing me into a dress, with her cold gazes my way, her warm hugs, her night kisses on my cheek, her lectures, her timeouts when I was being sassy and her my way or the highway approach to disciplining me and my siblings. I chose to be gentle, loving, caring and selfless because I saw the darkness inside my mom at a young age. I have a good, dysfunctional family. My brother may have an ego, a no judgement approach to life, wants everyone to be his friend, selfless, gentle and loving. My big sister the oldest of my siblings and my little sister the youngest of my siblings both chose to be judgemental, cold to those they hate, warm to those they love, having anger issues, always cool and collected by calculating their next move in life. I learned to be fearless, stubborn, full of surprises, unpredictable, out-spoken and stoic because that's how I thrived by being different from my sisters and mother. If nobody can read my motives then I can do whatever I want within reason without breaking the law. My big brother always cared too much about what anybody thought of him but he have always respected my choices, my creative lifestyle and me because I was always the rebel of the family.

I hangout with my best friends much more often now that I am medicated. It's refreshing talking to them. I trust them with my life. They are amazing, talented, intelligent and good people. Every time I hangout with my best friends I feel free, loved, and cared for. When they smile and laugh I know it's real because I can feel it in my heart. They are the realest people I know. I never have to hide my mental and emotional scars from them because they aren't perfect either. I never have to try to be normal around them because together we are weird, quirky and well read.

It's more Spring than Fall because it's in the 50's and 60's outside.
It's more Spring than Fall because it's so warm and toasty.
It's more Spring than Fall because people are walking around in short sleeves rather than long sleeves.
It's more Spring than Fall because no one is wearing jackets even if you are wearing a jacket you are overheating in them.
It's more Spring than Fall the only indicators of it being Fall is the fallen leaves of oranges and browns as well as the Thanksgiving decorations in every store.

Morning, drinking coffee and taking my meds.
Morning as the sun emphasizes the snow of yesterday.
Morning as being awake and alive to being grateful for both.

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!

Psychological traumas, mental illnesses and emotional scars make a Mosaic of the mind.
Sometimes it's beautiful. Sometimes it's dark. Sometimes it's messy colors appearing on CT scan alerting the doctors that something beyond physical is happening.
It takes doctors of the mind for the unexplainable to be figured out.
It takes a lot of tests for them to find out.
Some Mosaics require special eyes to be appreciated.

They say, "The mother's love is strong."
I say, "My mom is drowning me in disappointment glares and suffocating me in a love that doesn't let go."
How can I fly away from my mom when she chooses to never let go of me? I do one thing wrong and she wants to go through my phone which is invading my privacy rights. I am still human. She thinks I am another species because of my mental illnesses. Like I am her monster that she is required to care for but she hides me away as though I am a secret that no one else can have. I have big dreams to accomplish and I need to get out of my small town at some point. I push forward towards my dreams and she pulls back on my cloak as if it's my leash. I never needed popularity it just happened when I left high school. I never wanted people to see me as perfect because perfect is an impossible standard that no one can reach. Yet my mom compares me to my older siblings and I fall short of her mark of expectations. If I am a monster to her then watch me become human revealing my emotional scars from the wrappings you use cover up my beauty. To find sunlight in the reality she created for me is like finding a coin in mud until something glistens then there is no way to find it.

Taking meds and drinking coffee.
Going to downtown so I get bored in my house.
Still in my pajamas and going to get dressed for today's adventures. Even though it's my Tuesday routine.

If you know me then great. If you don't then welcome to my life.
I am a band nerd. No surprise there. Music is what makes me better creatively. It helps me think. Ever heard of Mozart, or Bach? I love them. I know it's classical. Ever heard of The Fray, or Paramore? They are punk rock. Huge difference between genres. Duh, use your ears.
Octaves and dynamics are fun to play with. Changing keys is a *****.
Music is Medicine! It's scientifically proven to improve mood and memory. I hate stereotypes, imagine me being the rebel to ***** with people's minds. That's better. I can either be your morning sun or your holy fire. Either way, you can get burnt if you have too much of me. No I am not always a superhero. I am a rebel. I get to make up my own rules, I follow them. If you ask about my rules expect them to change each day.

The Mystery Girl really likes me and I really like her.
Those dark blue eyes and how the fire inside of me seems to burn brighter when I am around her.
I forget how speak when I am around her. It's like this warm spreads across my body then my mind goes blank. My heart beats faster when I am around her and my pulse rushes a mile a minute.
I tend to lose myself in her eyes then it feels like it's just her and I. Now I just need the courage to ask for her number or give her mine.

Kind, light blue eyes and bright blonde hair.
He is tough on everyone but sweet to those who work hard.
He isn't from my small town. He like an older brother that I never knew that I wanted. Someone who can hold me accountable for my pacing when making pizzas and rewards me for having a good ethic with free food. He is the kitchen manager at the gas station I work at.
He is adorably mainstream cultured and he makes dad jokes on the clock. I trust him because he treats me as though I am normal when I know that I am not but I don't mind. Mostly because he sees me as his equal and he trust me with the kitchen. Sure sometimes he is a **** but sometimes he have to be in order for other people to see things his way.