In the park,
under the willow,
birds soar high in the sky,
the lake water runs gently,
the geese all walk along the grass,
around it.

  I remember wishing to sit under it for shelter.
It was beautiful.
I burned for it as if somehow, it was supposed to be mine.
I didn't own it, not really.
It was oddly beautiful despite it's difference from regular trees.
It's branches were limp, it's leaves giving more cover and almost touching the ground.
  It was odd.
I imagined that under the willow,
odd things were possible.
It made me believe in impossible things.
I learned to dream, by just
imaging what was under the willow tree.

I saw the sun,
Just over the forest trees,
reflected off the murky green lake water.
I saw it's light escaping briefly through the gaps in the branches.
I felt it's heat from a distance burn me up.

The gentle lake water rocked me back and forth.
The heat remained constant.
My heart beat steadied.
I breathed in the fresh air,
inhaling the day.
Eyes closed for a minute and felt the sting of light on my eyelids.
I drank it all in.
Tilting into the cool water for a moment.
The sand beneath my feet strangely soft.

I saw the day as it was, perfect.
Laughter jilted my frame, a smile broke across my face.
It felt easier to breathe that day,
and it was because I saw everything that day.

I can't grieve,
not for things I don't understand
not for things that haven't happened to me.
I can't offer you support or share your grief,
it's not my own and therefore, any emotions I feel or display,
is partially false.

   I don't tell you this to be rude. I tell you because it's the truth.
It's a truth I feel I should expose. Don't ask me to grieve with you,
I cannot.
Don't ask me to feel and understand your pain always,
because I may not be able to.
Don't judge me for not being able to relate,
Sometimes it's just not possible.
In return I won't judge or ask of you anything I cannot do myself.

The truth is…I feel many things, deeply.
I feel pain, sorrow, anger, remorse, regret, happiness and nervousness.
I can feel them all but sometimes there are somethings I shut out.
Grieving, and experiences I myself have no idea how to handle or deal with. I shut them out, because sometimes there isn't room for more.
    Truth, I think of myself as a cup.
I'm always filled to the brim with feelings to deal with.
If there's any room I'll share in yours. But trust me to decide if there's room.
  The truth is I love too deeply, and care too much to feel much else. All I want is someone to understand that silence, repressed emotions, and anger are the only way I know to deal with it. I want someone to understand, I'm not being mean.
I'm surviving.

You can't fix people.
No matter how much you want to.
No matter how hard you try.
People don't want to be fixed.

You can't keep trying.
You can't keep getting in between them.
Listen and don't speak.

You can't fix them.
They have to want to fix themselves.
If they don't, then let them go.
If you can't….then try.
Try to accept that you can't change people.
Try not to hate them for not changing.

I see the falling of the world around me.
Like rain ashes of what once was
spread charcoal grey across my line of sight.

I try and I try, to find what's right.
As the pieces fall
my feet are rooted to the ground.
It's as if i'm bound.
My body is stiff, my heart is steady.
I watch it all fall
but move not at all.

I wait and pine,
for the world that was once mine.
I watched it all fall apart.
It **** near broke my heart.
Yet there I stood in the middle of chaos and destruction.
Grounded.

I felt it.
I felt my heart banging against my rib cage.
I felt my knees shake, and my nerves jumping around inside me.
I heard it.
I heard them arguing over whether i should do it.
I needed it.
I needed to jump.
I closed my eyes.
I launched myself off the jagged edge cliff.
For a moment I felt myself fly.
Then I dropped.
I didn't hit when I thought.
I fell and was still falling when I peeked.
My heart was in my throat.
Crack, I land and nothings broken.
The smack of the water against my skin jolts my nervous system.
I breathe. I'm alive.

They tell you when you fall that it's hard to get back up.
They tell you falling is hard.
I thought in that moment falling off that cliff was the easiest thing to do.
To fall is to realize your own flawed humanity.
Falling makes you realize you're alive, imperfect and afraid of things like everyone else.
When I fell…I realized it was something I'd never actually allowed myself to do
When I fell, I realized what it truly meant to fall.

Sticks and Stones
break up my bones.
And Words have always hurt me.
Words formed by imperfect lips
spoken by a flawed voice
and given life by a corrupt individual.
Sticks and stones
break and bleed me
right to the bone
and Words are always gonna hurt me.