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 Aug 2013 KSK
NitaAnn
C-r-a-z-y
 Aug 2013 KSK
NitaAnn
Sometimes the case of the letter
makes all the difference.  
God or god.
An important personal I or a misplaced letter i.
Summer the girl or summer the season.  
The uppercase letter delineates between importance and the ordinary.

Perfectionism is a haunt of mine.  
It is a ghost that follows me
And does not stop no matter what I'm doing.  
It kills a day in a blink.  
It turns anxiety inside/out.  
It takes away my care for something good;
Even the smallest of outcomes.

F@#k it.

That is perfectionism in two simple words.
If I cannot do it right then I refuse to do it at all.
  How dangerous is that?
Or rather... how stupid is that?

I see my world in black and white.  
Absolutes.
  You are either right or wrong.
Good or bad.  
Smart or stupid.
I have a ridiculously logical brain.
Logic is the glue that holds the shards of me together.
Without this reason,
I probably would have landed in the crazy house a long time ago.
Logic is my reality.  
If I can reason it; it exists.  
If I cannot; it must not be.

And there is the problem.
There is nothing logical about my past.
Although it seems that abusers have a handbook;
the logic chapter is always found
To be ripped out, shredded, and burned.
  They left that part of it up to us to figure out;
To understand their evil.  
That is what makes us crazy in the first place.
So the harder I try to understand;
The crazier I get.  Literally.
I cannot reason what was done to me
And so sets in denial.
I can't understand it;
I can't make it right.
So f@#k it.

The abundance of f@#k its has really slowed me down.  
Nearly to a halt and I'm not just talking about my mental healing.
This is my real life too.
Housekeeping, taking care of myself,
Dieting, exercise, blah blah blah...
you get the picture.
If I can't do it right and perfect;
Then I won't do it at all.  
All great thoughts to live by.

This thinking is not something easy to change.
It is a deep part of who I am.  
It is also something that makes me feel normal.
Normal exactly long enough until
I realize that normal people don't do math and physics problems for fun.
But I digress because my weirdness belongs in a whole other post.  

I have steps to take.
  One at a time.  
Crying just one time worked for me.
  And then I did it again.  
Getting up early once
Led to me getting up early again AND working out.
It doesn't have to be all or nothing
Sometimes it's alright to be somewhere and in between.  
I don't have to be completely healed or entirely wounded.
  
I'm still crazy;
Even with the steps towards tears and feeling.  
But I have progress now
Because I have downgraded letters;
Even if it is just one.
Now I'm just crazy.

crazy with a little "c"...
 Aug 2013 KSK
Rlavr
White Noise
 Aug 2013 KSK
Rlavr
The poetry doesn't come easy lately
From the time you asked me why
In such a frustrated manner that I recoiled
It used to be so easy, you know
With the distance between us
Bridged by your crazy laugh
And my smug smile
Perhaps because poetry is not the words
But the emotions that mandate enjambments
And fill the spaces between the verses
The space is now too big
The lines too abruptly cut
That it ceases to become poetry
And it becomes emptiness.
It's my fault, is it not?
 Aug 2013 KSK
fdg
I can't decide what sixteen has taught me.
That my mother won't like me until I move out
That happiness doesn't come with a license
That *** doesn't have to be romantic
or that I know how to feel alive.
 Aug 2013 KSK
Jiminy Cricket
There is this boy I once knew
Foolish and young
He longed to be the class clown
Loud mouthed
His mother would tell him "think before you speak"
He would only apply it when he got something out of it
Like staying out after curfew
Un appreciative towards everything that mattered
A bit of an ego
Too many friends to count
He didn't like a challenge
Or work
Or any type of learning
His school results showed that
His heart was un breakable
With an exception to those couple of first loves
That were way too easy to obtain
He always knew
They were never going to last
Though they caused attempted suicides and self harm
A foolish lover
Innocent at heart
He would make sure no one would ever notice
He formed an unbreakable shell
It did him good for a while
Until it felt the touch of the most purist hand out there
It went boom and exploded right there and then
No one has found him since.

There is this boy I know
Well he isn't really a boy anymore
He has learnt from many mistakes
Slowly maturing
Over looking for attention, though he finds it nice sometimes
A quiet spoken introvert
Formed by something his mother use to tell him
He will never forget it
Appreciative towards everything that matters
He has learnt what means the most
No ego
He watches ego filled ***** and wonders how they always win
Wishes he had a bit of one
A few close friends to always count on
All he needs
Regrets his schooling life
Wishing he made better decisions
Though he wouldn't realize this until he grew up a bit
And everyone knew that was going to take time
A shattered and beaten heart
Though he found love in pills, a lot more than he would like to admit
A replacement that can't replace the real thing
Longing for the touch of something he once felt
He needs to be re built
You may see him wondering around
Waiting to be found.

— The End —