Being weird I have many friends on Facebook. Don't why. People are just like that I guess. I don't understand most humans. Well that's half true. I don't understand most people's habits. That's fully true.
Popularity makes people feel powerful and indestructible when they are really terrified of being themselves and vulnerable to haters.
I guess the normal people hate being called out on their *******.
So ***** them but not literally. I have thick skin figuratively. Not the point but if you are a nerd you understand what I mean.
Popularity is just a construct. Yeah well go **** yourself. You are speaking to a proud nerd here. You weren't the one who tried so hard to be popular. You weren't the one who made corny jokes trying to be cool. You weren't the one constantly planning whole conversations in your head. So I say this politely, go **** yourself.

To be popular is to be criticized, taken for granted, abandoned by society and lonely by envy.
I know so I grew up popular at church. I used to envy the rich because I grew up poor. I don't anymore. I am enriched with good memories.
I was the special needs kid that got people's attention because I could observe everyone's social habits and insecurities. I was spiritual and clairvoyant from a young age. I could discern things since I was 7. A lot of responsibility for someone so young.
Everyone in my small religious town knew my last name and expectations were given to me when I was a kid because I was mentally disabled as school called my neuro-diversities.
Popularity is worthless, just because someone knows a small percentage about you doesn't make you a star. You make you a star not other people.

I met him at Coffee Boy's coffee shop. He is an old guy who is married. He asks every girl my age if they have a boyfriend which I find rude because he assumes every girl is straight.
He visits me at work each night which sometimes creeps me out.
He is four times my age yet is fascinated by strong opinions.
He reads my poetry as if I am his grandchild which I am not.
Everyone in town loves him yet he is obsessed about me.
I have a social life too I just want him to respect that.

The Girl with Green Eyes is back in town. I expected her to be back in town sometime. It's just seeing her again makes me soft as if my heart warms inside my chest and I can't help myself by smiling like a dork.
Hugging her again reminds me of the good old days where we were the power duo of the church. We still are the power duo of best friends going on two different paths. She is still an idiot that sings like an angel and she is still beautiful to me. She is a good person and I know her heart as though it's my own. I don't hate her and I never hated her. It's just she is everything I am not. She blends into this small religious town, she is the poster girl of worship band, she is popular because everyone loves her and she is agreeable.
In this town we are a package deal you can't have one without the other. Sometimes I am envious of her because she is the picture perfect straight girl that makes me less lonely at church and I can't lose her. Not yet. She is just so predictable and I can't help myself by falling for her charm in a platonic way. She is my weakness maybe it's because she helped me overcome my stage fright, my fear of being second best and my fear of being abandoned. She never gives up on me and I believe in the good within her.
She apologized for being a **** to me last summer and I deleted the text because I was still angry at her. I forgive her now because I know she depends on me to be her hero when I am a rebel with trust issues. She is always there when I needed her and I am always there for her when she needs me. That's what best friends are for. Maybe it's because we have been best friends for 9 years and I know hurting her would feel good for 5 seconds but not worth losing her for a lifetime.

I may be white but I am still a bi woman. I am not less than human because I have bipolar disorder, depression, anxiety and a high functioning sociopath. In fact, I am more human than most because the beast inside me doesn't control me anymore. When I embrace my wild side I am more me than ever. Primal instincts aren't bad emotions, that's bottled up rage and aggression which society doesn't accept as societal norms. Rage isn't throwing things and breaking people's prized possessions, that's abuse. Rage is shaking in anger, yelling at people for doing stuff wrong, confronting someone over the smallest things and having guilt for being angry at all. Aggression isn't beating someone into submission, telling someone they are worthless repeatedly, begging someone to do something stupid and pleading for attention, that's emotional abuse. Aggression is channeling your frustrations into heated sentences for someone who don't deserve it, losing it over a parent that won't go to band concerts, wanting to scream over someone who won't validate your existence and causing a situation from nothing. Privilege is nothing more than existing with an easy life.

Processing feelings is still Progress because the anger doesn't control you, the fear is created from your own mind, the sadness is real, the guilt and regret is opposite of peace and freedom.
Processing experiences is still Progress because wisdom comes from the most unusual of memories.
Processing beginnings is still Progress because at some point there is an end.
Processing endings is still Progress because truths can be found at what is left.
Processing the unknown is still Progress because that is where the courage starts.

My heartstrings aren't for anyone to play with.
My mood swings aren't toys for those dare try and control them.
My depression isn't a merry go round.
My anxiety isn't defined by trouble breathing and shaky hands.
I didn't ask for judgements, erasure, being abandoned nor scaring bullies away.
I did ask God for people I can count on, a lover that can be cherished by me and a way out of this religious town. I have people I can count on but I still don't have a lover and a way out of this town.
I may be talented but I still wish for a love worth pursuing.
I am still human.

Being Pure of heart doesn't mean you can't have ****** desires and aren't void of ****** love. Eros can rule even the most innocent of souls.
Being Pure of heart doesn't mean you can't have romance and marriage that spans ages. Aphrodite can influence the most restraint of minds.
Being Pure of heart doesn't you can't appreciate beauty. Zeus can lie in the most bizarre of ways.
Being Pure of heart doesn't mean any human experiences or desires are less than it just mean whatever perspective or mindset they have are simply there in a way that is complex.

You want space, time and silence from me. I can accept that.
I am a burden to you and I am too much for you.
For someone who calls me bestie and weirdly different I am hardly shocked you didn't tell me yourself.
You told my boss and let him run me through the wringer.
You aren't me. I trust you. Sure I care too much and I love too much.
You are new to my life. I expected some sort of communication from you. If you wanted time, space and silence from me you have it now.
I respect you. So here is my radio silence.

The Reality is my big sister and big brother used to hold the family together. Now the responsibilities are passed down to my little sister and I. Sometimes I have no idea what I am doing but trying my best to keep the family together. I didn't know that it would be so much work and so complex.
My big sister and my big brother made the responsibilities look so easy maybe it's because they are natural socializers. Or maybe I have more social development to do. My family is dysfunctional and complains about each other when the other isn't around.
My little sister and I have mental illnesses which makes socializing ******* both of us. My big sister and big brother may seem perfect but they aren't. They are human like me. They were spoiled with attention, love and affection while I knew I was loved since I was child it's just attention and affection weren't a given to me like it was to them. The Reality is I had a somewhat good childhood with my little sister alongside me. I am rebellious, resourceful, resilient and brave. It takes a lot to be all that.

One Red Flag to look for is someone who draws you into a friendship with a hidden agenda that you don't figure out until it's too late.
It's slowly drowning in their mindset. It's telling them secrets at midnight. It's them taking away your uniqueness. It's holding your tongue when you want to question everything.
Two Red Flags to look for is someone who makes you feel seen but not listened to. It's explain yourself repeatedly. It's gazing into their eyes and thinking that they care about you when your chest warms up. It's having the thrills of good feelings and thinking they are a good friend when it's not equal efforts. It's begging for attention when you shouldn't.
Three Red Flags to look for is someone makes you play mind games.
It's showing them how devoted you are to the friendship and them dismissing it as a thoughtful gift. It's coming out to them and them rejecting you. It's them not understanding any of your thoughts and having your heart sink.
Four Red Flags to look for is someone who put up walls between you and them until there is nothing left to hold the friendship together.

Yes it's another one on an uncomfortable subject. I am a Christian so it's not going to be superiority propaganda. That's very Anglo Saxon ******* to force a religion on anyone. So I am just going to put my thoughts down. If it's very forward of me on any of my opinions then I plan on offending as little people as possible. No you may not interrupt my train of thought so shut the **** up. Christians are uptight, don't look this way or I will religion you type culture, they deny people who God doesn't hate love because hell you go politics, they will be snobs in the most casual settings because dress up isn't just for church, prayer chains are shame settings for people who need therapy and they will give you food when you really need someone who actually cares not a casserole. I am writing what I know so here it is.

Remarkable Love,
She is breathtaking by her beautiful soul.
Remarkable Love,
She has restarted my broken-heart.
Remarkable Love,
She may be my first love but she brought out a part of me I forgot I had.
Remarkable Love,
A part of me that is brave enough to face anything.
Remarkable Love,
I saw her last night while she was driving. Her dark blue eyes and that awe-inspiring scarlet smile.
Remarkable Love,
She has rescued me again this time with a smile. Sure we aren't getting back together. She reminded me who I need to be with a smile. That is who I have always been a selfless poetess because no one else is me and no one else is her.
Remarkable Love,
Thank you for reminding me of who I am.

I can feel the fire raging inside of me.
I keep it bay by journaling and writing poetry.
Yet the fire rages because I am sick and tired of hiding in the closet.
The fire rages because I want to tell them there is more to life than just chastity and purity culture.
The fire rages because I want to tell them how satisfying and amazing it is to kiss a girl.
But I know they will never understand because they are ignorant to the truth and spirit that thrive in the lgbtq community.

Most days my ex-boyfriend is like a Revolving Door.
He makes my mind spin in circles until I feel like throwing up.
He is the most straight guy I have ever met. I mean that in the worst way possible. I have nothing against straight men. My ex-boyfriend talks about *** as if any girl can stand him for his sexist behavior.
Girls turn him down left and right. I think that is his punishment for his behavior. He thinks of me as his last resort when girls turn him down. I find it to be degrading to have him think that no one can ever love me which is not true. I may be insane but I am worth loving.

It seems as though I am constantly go through a revolving door.
One moment I am on the inside, at peace.
The next moment I am on the outside, thrown into the wild.
I feel dizzy, euphoric and new.
With a new sense of strength and confidence.
I metaphorically gaze at myself in the glass and I see what I can be.
I can see the struggle within myself but I also see the relief of not conforming to the gender binary.
I am still getting used to being gender fluid because some days it feels as if I have fallen from sky, crashing into a new challenge.
But I enjoy the thrill of it because not every day is the same.

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.

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.

I was 7 years old at my big sister's cross country meet. The Sunlight warming my pale skin. Running on the grassy plains.
Wind rushing in my ears. Smile on my face. Yelling out my big sister's name into the rushing crowds of dark green and navy blue. Pep band playing in the background. Blood speeding through my veins.

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.

See I got your attention. It's human nature to want peel away the fake and reveal the ugly. If "beauty is skin deep" for most people then what is the ugliness in the beautiful? Obviously from most science documentaries there is ***, drugs, peer pressure and low self esteem. In a way popularity is full of scandals. I never understood popularity from a nerd perspective. Normal is overrated and highly praised.
Normal is drunk nights, too many parties, getting high and who slept with who. It's dramatic and boring. Normal is seeking attention and validation from people you barely know. Normal is begging for information from people you want approval from. In a way it's a system that is emotionally, physically, mentally and psychologically abusive. There are people who suffer from *** addiction because of their "glory days" and don't know how to connect with people because that so-called popular life was their drug. Don't anyone get tired of following trends and huge crowds? Do those people ever form their own opinion or are they trapped in that system? There is more to life than popularity, *** and drugs. Don't you know narcissism blooms from that lifestyle? I don't claim superiority in my nerdy intelligence. I just feel sorry for popular girls who cut themselves because of awful rumors. No one should ever feel worthless if their beauty is deeper than just their skin. I always prayed for the popular girl who I wrote letters to. I saw how that life ate her up but she didn't back down. I admire people who gaze into darkness and choose light no matter how small of achievement by human standards it is.

I am divided in two because I loss my best friend at age 15.
Sometimes I am delusional. Sometimes my thoughts make no sense.
Sometimes my words slur in mid-conversation. Sometimes I can't feel anything at all. Sometimes I have no motivation to eat or sleep.
Sometimes the voices in my head aren't my own and I want to scream at them to shut up. I will not romanticize my mental condition.
I am giving a voice to a personal issue of mine. Do that make me insane? No, just aware. Movies make my condition a horror movie or a thriller movie. It is neither something that controls me or makes me a lunatic. Maybe I am just more strong willed than most people with my condition. My mental illness doesn't make me any less human.
I could argue that it makes me more human. Do I sound insane bringing up my symptoms? Maybe I don't know what normal is.

It was 8th grade. We were at a school dance. You danced with me and we were good dance partners. Even the popular people thought so. We lasted 4 months. We kissed a few times. What I thought was love turned out to be lust. You were sweet, endearing and you were a nerd too. Pokemon and Back to the Future movies were our thing. You loved NASA science stuff. You didn't think I had a good sense of humor. On our dates you brought a wingman. You thought my religion was a fictional fantasy. You made me feel inferior to you. You personally insulted my cousin. Everyone knew it wasn't going to last. I broke up with you over a letter on Christmas Break. Freshman year of high school all we did was fight at the lunch table and at Writer's Club. Sophomore year of high school you went on a date with the Writer's Club president. Eventually you stopped going to Writer's Club. Junior year of high school year you told me in Home Education Class that I was the only girl that you ever loved and told me that you were gay. We became friends. Senior year of high school we graduated.

It was freshman year of college. We kissed there was no spark. We lasted a week. You wanted to get married to me and kids with me on day 3. I didn't see that future. You tried to killed me in your car several times going at top speeds because you were angry at something. You texted me multiple times you wanted to **** yourself. I came out to you as bisexual after we broke up. We stayed friends somehow you got worse. You became a sexist ***** because of college. You slap my **** when you want attention. You talk about sleeping with my friends. You make jokes about my sexuality. You generally make me uncomfortable. I am your only friend. I am glad we broke up when we did. I can't deal with this. You are toxic and I know I should leave at some point. You think everyone want to use you for money which is pessimistic on a multitude of levels. Even "The Beast" inside of me can't stand you and that says a lot. I know you are a science nerd but you give that honor such disgrace it makes me want to punch you in the face. I emotionally and mentally stopped investing you already. You are so clingy it's exhausting.

I am hoping she still wants to be more than friends with me.
For when her navy blue eyes look into my coffee brown eyes, my heart races and I forget my worries.
Oh how she smiles in my direction I just want to kiss her again and again.

They have supported my creative ambitions since I was best friends with their daughter Kalie. Her family became my family when we loss her. I didn't I would come back from that. I didn't think I would come back from losing her my best friend. The one person who understood me in this **** Christian town.
Kalie knew before I did that I am a good writer. She told her family about my stories and poems. She believed in me before I did.
She loved me before I did. She accepted me before I did.
She knew me better than anyone else in this cold, stuck up small town. And I fell in love with her with every ounce of my being.
Most people knew we were best friends because of how we looked at each other. We were so close that people could hardly tell where one personality began and which personality ended. Every time she came back for me I knew I would always remember her. No matter how hard life got without her I knew from heaven how she wanted me to live my life. I was so depressed without her in my life that barely ate anything and slept too much. At one point I attempted to **** myself.
I went to the school counselor more often that Kalie was gone. I knew each time I felt bad to go to the counselor because it was a reflex for me. I always gone into therapy from speech to reading. I grew up depending on therapists for my mental disabilities because I couldn't control myself. I was labeled a special needs kid and mentally disabled. I accepted it.

I keep seeing shadows. One moment they are there the next moment they are gone.
Some days I feel like I am losing my mind. Other days I feel like the loneliness is eating me alive. My life is healthy. I hangout with my friends at the Coffee Shop, once a week. I hangout with my family, all the time. I have friends at work who I hangout with twice a week.

Sensitive to light, sometimes too bright or not bright enough.
Sensitive to sound, sometimes too loud or too quiet.
Sensitive to my emotions, feeling everything intensely or not at all.
Sensitive to my mental state, panic attacks feels like dying and overthinking feels like rushing through every emotion in reckless abandon.
I am a highly sensitive person and I know what I want out of life.
Being sensitive is my superpower because I know what to expect from people.

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.

I watched you get undressed. It was a mission trip. You in your bra and *******. I wanted to kiss you. I wanted to take off the rest of the coverings and have my skin next to yours. I wanted everyone to know in some way that you were mine. I would have made myself a fool because two best friends who are Christian girls aren't supposed to do that. But I just stared at your smooth skin as long as I could.
I wanted to take your hand in my hand then proceed to call you babe. But you had to be a straight girl and fall for the guy in the praise band who played guitar. Typical. Just typical. You guys broke up in high school. You guys were my best friends. You two were unstoppable heroes. Now neither of you two talk to each other. Your parents won't even talk to each other. What kind of love was so bad even if it ended mutually that none of you two will talk about it? I know it's a Christian town but what the actual **** is wrong with you two? I may not be straight but I declare you two *******.

The whoosh of going down snowy slopes.
Walking back up the snowy ***** out of breath.
Fresh wind pumping my veins.
Coughing out the fresh wind at the bottom of the *****.
Almost too much wind pumping through my veins.
Freedom and being alive at the whoosh going down the snowy slopes.

To feel weak, to feel tired, to be unbalanced from an unknown force and the pulsing in the gut.
It's a sleepy feeling as if the pain in the gut is dripping every ounce of energy through blood.
It's want to sleep for an eternity but stay awake so I don't miss anything.
Maybe it's because I had a panic attack yesterday.
Maybe it's the sugar cravings.
Maybe it's my mood swings being more restless than I am.
Maybe it's me being more weird if that's even possible.
It's strange being medicated when period cramps are present.
It's strange how my emotions feel stronger, sharper and more intense than usual.

Snow falling.
Shivering in a coat.
Sun covered up by the clouds.
Snow glistening.

My big sister married a farm Catholic boy in her grade at age 22.
I was 16 years old and one of her bridesmaids. I am proud of my big sister who was Christian converted to Catechism for him. Catholics enjoy gossips and rumors as much as Christians do. They have their routine and we have ours. My family being Christian middle class and the in-laws being rich farmers who happen to be Catholic it was good for my big sister to marry that farmer boy because they dated for 5 years then he proposed to her during Christmas. They have a great love story. Their daughter and sons are my niece and nephews. But once we have to socialize with his family it's awkward. It's getting closer to their 5th year anniversary. As I said in one of my earlier poems I don't like big crowds it's draining for me.

Some Heroes Leave you to deal with a destroyed structure.
Some Heroes Leave because life sent them away from you.
Some Heroes Leave grief inside of you so deeply you want all of the pain to be cried out of you.
Some Heroes Leave because they didn't know how to save you anymore.
Some Heroes Leave because the cape got too heavy for them and mask fell off revealing a selfish glorified coward.
Some Heroes Leave because there was nothing left to say.
Some Heroes Leave because they never understood anyways.
Some Heroes Leave because they have their own demons to face.
Some Heroes Leave because they have no idea how to articulate their words about their feelings.
Some Heroes Leave because it was there turn to be cared for.
Some Heroes Leave because they are injured from battles.
Some Heroes Leave because it was never about you maybe they just needed time to heal.

Sometimes it's like I am restless. I read book after book. I don't know how to stay still. As though my thoughts are going a mile a minute.
Sometimes it's like times slows down. I like that I get time to myself.
Time to heal. Time to think.
Sometime it's like with all this happiness I want to do on adventures. I want to get out of this town for a little while. I want to get out of my head.
Sometimes it's like I don't know where to start. I am afraid to trust people.

Being a nerd you have to get used to being invisible. When someone actually cares about you and see you for you. That's when the invisibly fades and suddenly you aren't invisible anymore.
To think you once thought you were worthless now someone says you are beautiful and not a burden to love.
They leave and suddenly you think something is wrong with you.
Writing symptoms of anxiety and depression in a journal hoping to get rid of the pain of getting emotionally attached to them.
Busy is code word for you aren't a priority to them. Time continuing them fading into the background of life. Suddenly your freckles are cute as they say at youth group. Your chest warms for a little while and everything is back to normal. You are told that you have a strong jawline before homecoming then those green eyes gazed at you and that smile with that one dimple consumes you into a happy reality.
If only I knew popular choir girl ever love and care for you when it's benefits them. Poster girl for Christianity and everyone thinks she is perfect then you are just her supporter for years then the label best friend is branded on you as the public watches you make a fool of yourself for this girl with green eyes. The hubris and the stupidity to ever give unconditional love to a girl who is beloved by crowds. You aren't perfect, girl with green eyes. You are selfless when it benefits you because I am a talented writer while you sing people into your adorable charm. You, girl with green eyes may say you are weird but you fit into this religious small town while I don't and I never have fit in. I hangout with genius while you kiss up to people who only care for you because you are a benefit to their life. You, girl with green eyes heard the rumors about me, why didn't you run when you had the chance? I still care and love you girl with green eyes. Why do you hate cussing and me telling the truth? How much do you hide from the world other than your selfish networking? You hid your cancer diagnosis from me. Afraid that I will spill your secrets? I am not heartless and soulless like most people in this town. I gave you my big secret and you scared me because you rebuked me for being me. Afraid to handle a brutally honest bi girl? Well you should be. I will become famous with my writings while you chase after boys who have wait for you to sing in order to fall for you. You may be beautiful but I know the monster you are. Remember that girl with green eyes. Being narrow-minded gets you nowhere. Take notes about me embracing the outcasts and having my own army. Where was your crowd when you had cancer? I was there for you every chance I got. I proved myself to be your best friend because I thought you were only person in the world who valued me. I was wrong in the best way. There are so many people like me. Mentally ill, weird in a good way, who love books and pop culture references and who enjoy deep conversations about life. I don't hide my politics and I don't have an agenda. Enjoy your strings while you can girl with green eyes because I live without strings attached to me. I am free so why do you choose to live in a cage? Just curious it's the reporter in me. You should meet Coffee Boy now that's somebody who cares about people who enter his coffee shop. I had to sleepover at your house to earn coffee and a personal journal from you. I never told you all of my secrets and I am grateful for that because you wouldn't understand what it is like to be me. I may have a broken heart and a broken mind but I have never been more me in my life. Madness is true freedom. To put it simply, to be broken is find new worlds that people haven't discovered. I find light where the darkness swallows me up. You are too afraid to burn bridges because this town gave you a mask that you didn't even want. You never even made friends with my genius best friends. I granted the best friend title to you because I fell for you. They earned that title. That's the difference between you and them. We nerds are gifted in what we put our minds to and want independence from our parents who spoil our passions with expensive gifts on Christmas. You were given your life on a silver platter and had a silver spoon in your mouth for so long you never thought to get independence from your parents. I know you have a picture perfect Christian family but I still know to some degree some part of you have madness in you. I guess that's what I loved about you, your madness. Please flourish your madness, I beg you girl with green eyes. You have the whole world eating at your palm for your normal story but madness is where an army is made. Stop being invisible girl with green eyes because I only noticed you because you chose me as your best friend. Just imagine what your crowds think of you. Wait you don't analyze every situation like I do so you don't know about being forgotten and abandoned by heroes. I don't buy your normal story for one second because I know you like every poem I write. Predictable, already written and in my journals. I have everything on you and you got nothing on me because I thrive and evolve while you dissolve under pressure. You would be nothing without me and I would still me regardless.

Would if the world is only cruel because good people are hard to find. Would if the passage of time is only traumatic because scars are supposed to be a good thing.
Would if the luck of someone depends on their deeds. Would if the evil in the world is annoyed by what is left of the good.
Because "nice guy or girl" isn't always good. "Nice" isn't even a measuring point for humanity. "Nice" is what you say when someone do something fierce. Would if the good of humanity is in rarity because the bad can be so tempting.
The World itself is Sometimes Tilted. Society is flawed and the systems in place mostly benefit men. The patriarchy is a demonic system. When will the next revolution start?

I have to choose between Chelsie and The Mystery Girl.
Two sisters alike in destiny and love.
Now I know how Hamilton felt with Eliza and Angelica.
I have a type. How do I choose between my first queer love and the girl I met a few months ago? I don't know what the right decision is.
Normally I let my heart decide and now even my heart is confused.

Being schizophrenic, you see horrific things in your nightmares.
Being bipolar, every emotion is supercharged.
Being bisexual, don't get erased by society's standards.
There isn't one way to be you. There isn't one way to have a heart.
There isn't one way to have a mind. Being who you are and speak up for yourself or someone else who matters to you.

I have been told once that I should be a politician.
I may understand politics and unusual facts but I don't want to be fake, bitter and consumed by other people's opinions about me.
Too much drama and too much stress.
Living in a religious small town I had to create own thoughts and ideas so I didn't have to be brainwashed by societal norms.
I may be spiritual but I am not religious. Religious just sounds too starched collar for me. Spiritual just sounds more open minded and natural for me. The Spiritual people I meet are more accepting while Religious people can't go 5 seconds without arguing with an atheist.
I know the difference I grew up in my church. Everything is a routine including socializing at church.

Chris and I's first date is on my birthday.
He is a gentleman and a Christian.
And I know it sounds like a different tune from my poetry.
But he isn't like most guys who just want to get into my pants.
He is a nerd like me. He is a handsome black man who actually wants to go out with me. Sure he is a straight, cis man but he accepts me being a bisexual and gender fluid woman.
I will still be me. And I will still be a gender fluid, bisexual woman. None of that is changing. I will just be in a straight passing relationship. I am not picking a side so to say. I am just figuring out who if that someone is the one for me.

Society is full of stereotypes and bigotry.
Bureaucracy defines how incapable people are to take care of themselves.
The Government determines how disabled someone is from to physical to mental health.
Not all institutions care for the people no matter how ill they are.
Not all heroes care for the disabled. Tear away the mask and what is left of humanity to care for incurable misfits who just want to live?
Mental illnesses aren't curable just full of treatments like medicines, therapies and doctors.
Psychotic breaks aren't curable just appeared to be crazy illusions of a mad person. Which they aren't always wrong just smarter than the average human sometimes.

Yes, I have been to hell and back several times but I am Still Me.
Yes, I have had multiple emotional and mental meltdowns over the many years I have been alive but I am Still Me.
Yes, I have chosen my path of being tender hearted, passionate and relentless. I won't let the world destroy who I am for the sake of external sanity so **** the status quote! I am Still Me.
Yes, I have had awful days due to my anxiety and depression because caring too much and have my entire body ache in a dull agony don't mix well. There was one day in high school I took two ibuprofens instead of one to make forget my heartache from grieving over losing my best friend. It made me forget my heartache for a whole day but I don't remember the school day. I am Still Me.
Yes, people think I am weird for wanting to write instead of something practical. People many times have stared at me like I was crazy including my own family. I tend to stare back and smile as though their distress for my rebellious nature is my award. I am Still Me.
Yes, I have been called an enigma before by my older sister and weird by my peers, I take it as a compliment. I prove people wrong for a living. So take your boxes and stuff them up your *** because I will leave your head spinning. If you are judgmental about people then I hate you because I bet that stick in your *** covers all of the blood you taste in your mouth, being narrow minded doesn't make you better than anyone. I am Still Me.

A flicker of pain. Blood dripping.
An open wound. A rush to the hospital.
In the ER waiting for a doctor to close up the ****.
The sting of a needle to numb my pain.
Couldn't feel my arm for the rest of the night.
Thick string going beneath my skin and tugging at my skin.
A doctor with steady hands. He doesn't mind the blood oozing from my wound. Slowly my wound got closed up.
Now my wound is healing at it's own pace.
I am grateful for my coworkers; the cashier who called the store manager to meet me at the hospital and the pizza maker who drove me to the hospital.
I want to thank the hospital staff for taking care of me that evening.

When I read whether it's non-fiction or fiction I analyze it from a writer's perspective. I am studying my life because there is so much I don't know and I am always curious.
Every book I read I learn more about myself. I enjoy reading about mental illnesses. I am learning so much that I can't stop writing poetry. I am processing, healing and growing.
It's like digging deeper within to find what I can live without.

I saw people from my past. It was good.
Now I am tired and soulfully exhausted.
The responsibility of being a spiritual Christian.
I grew up at church which overall I had no freewill of being a Christian. It was expected in my small town.
Being rebellious is basically building upon thought-crimes where Big Brother is always watching you. There is always new gossips and rumors. I have always rebelled in my own way I would rather be a vagabond writer than a practical scientist. Logic isn't my enemy but it doesn't help me when I make creative cases against humanity.
I am well read, well researched, always making elaborate plans to get out of this town and standing out the best I can.
To go against traditions makes you the black sheep of the family, to be different is to have the label weird brandished across your heart and to hold your truths by biting your tongue. Oh the world that we live in where eras and renaissances are just ancient history.

My heart breaking slowly. I miss you Girl with Grayish-Blue Eyes! I have never stopped loving you. I never stopped falling in love with you. It's been 6 years since I lost you to death. I have grown into a rebellious, fearless bisexual woman. You inspired me with your life and my memories of us. I felt your love for me beyond death. I knew you would fulfill your promise. You have never left my heart because no one can replace what we had. Our effortless, endless, loving, caring, soulful, selfless, once in a lifetime and unforgettable friendship or whatever it was. I think our narrative for our love story went beyond friendship because I have never looked someone the way I had looked at you and my broken heart can prove that. I think you took a piece of my heart when you went to heaven because that part of me is vacant. You had me with your grayish-blue eyes and free spirit because no matter how big you went for my birthday all I really needed was your smile, your laugh, your warm hugs and your voice to fill that part of me. I would have asked you out if you would just stayed alive. Now we will never know. I still have the journal you wrote in. I read it every chance I can. You taught me how to live and I am grateful for you every day of my life. I see why God chose you to die and let me live. You fulfilled your mission early and mine never ends because you saved me in so many ways. I hope I was worth the trouble because I didn't know how to say I love you to anyone until I lost you to death. You brought out The Phantom in me and my wild side is devoted to you.

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.

Church is a Sweet Nothing, I give of myself each Sunday and get nothing in return.
Church events are a Sweet Nothing. I gather with all these people but I feel empty. I hope that God is real.
They dress up and go to church. When I go to church I am surrounded by straight couples. I am reminded that I am different and to them that's a bad thing.