I've noticed that the our Fears can more or less be something simple, but it created into something complex and seemingly unimaginable to overcome. The reality is, we can overcome anything that our mind first started. We can retrace the steps, but we might not meet back where we started, because where we were is not where we are suppose to be. We have learned too much, seen to much, and have grown in ways that will not take us back to where we once were, even if that place was good, because chances are we attained new knowledge, therefor will be better than ever before.

My fears are valid. The feelings are real. The fear I have itself is just a manifestation of my ego, keeping me frozen in the rigid cycle of perfectionism, that which kills my creativity and inspiration, and breeds loneliness and isolation.

I could wait for change to come, but I'd rather be brave, and be the once to decide, in my time, the change I do wish to see.

Have you ever left a kettle on the stove?

Eventually the water inside will boil.
The steam rises
Triggering a whistle
Subtle at first,
Just to signal your attention.
But sometimes we don’t listen.

The whistle is an alert from the kettle.
It’s only way to communicate.
To say “I’m ready."
“I’ve finished what you started.”
“I’ve made exactly what you wanted.”

Now where are you?
You left me here,
On a black top stove,
Unattended with hot blue flames,
And the heat rising to place I can't take for much longer.

The longer you keep me here
The more I become solidified in my fears.

I will be abandoned.
I am unworthy of your attention.

The message is internalized
Until it becomes the only tape
I hear and play.
I search for the button,
but can't find ERASE.

Some days I feel like a kettle
Left on the stove.

At first I whisper a whistle,
Then wait a little.

When no one comes around,
I whistle just a little louder.

The volume continues to increase,
Until I’m taken off the heat.

All this time I was ready,
The way I was suppose to be

The first time you insisted I make tea.
Or coffee..
Or whatever you need…

I suddenly become handy,
In times you need me.

I am gentle until I reach
A point where I scream.

Then you call me crazy,
Say i’m making a scene.

Overreacting.
Turning a spill into a sea.

What kills me the most is your inconsistency.
The lack of predictably for your return.

Disregarding my time and my feelings.

How much water can a kettle hold, you think?

Your distorted idea
To the amount much patience I carry.

Measure it please:

A bounty?
A hole miles deep??
An infinite washing machine???
Capable of endless cycling????

You only run my energy.

If you didn’t know this already,
The water inside the kettle evaporates eventually.

Steams itself dry
Until nothing is remains
But an empty kettle,
A bottom burned ***,
And a stove left on.

I only have a few ounces left.

I am about to drain out,
I have nothing left to replace myself.

After this happens,
There are no second chances.

You've had all you're tries,
and you've taken you're time.

It will only be a matter of time
Until the last thing you hear, is a faint cry.

Don’t look at me like some piece of meat
Acting all high and mighty
Maybe in this room
You feel like you’re better than everybody

But outside these walls
You are just the same
As those you scorn and shame.

I didn’t know it was part of your religious philosophy
To be righteous and pious
Judgmental to those who dare to think differently
Or God forbid be exactly who they were intended to be.
Don’t make your own kind the enemy.

We all have a purpose.
A river was made to be river,
don't ask it to be rock,
a bird,
or a tree.

You will see
How your personality won’t get you very far
The sooner you realize this
The better off you will be.

Unfortunately,
You’re set in your ways
And it would take more than just my words
to convince you to change they way you behave.

I try to believe that it's never too late to improve ourselves,
take a step in a new direction for a better change,
but some people refuse to move,
they remain the same.

As my mother would say:
The mean people don’t change,
As they age,
Their “Type A” will only accentuate.

I see this to be true,
and all I can say is,

Great...

I learn things the hard way
I know myself well
Enough to know that part of me won’t change

Some days feel like a self-started war
Between my feet meeting the and floor
It says, no
You won’t stand
But my mind insists and persists
Until I’m out of bed
And through the door.


If I look back at my past pain
From the view I stand in the present
I can see was for a greater purpose
And I wouldn’t dare change a single thing
Because it brought me to something enlightening.

So I write it all down, make it a song, and sing
Hoping the rhymes will help me
Not forget my new insight I know now.
Then a few weeks later
Don’t ask me how
I swear it’s like the pain or the pen scribbling on the page
Ever happened
Because for the life of me
I forget what I told myself to remember…

It’s a hilarious tragedy
Because I don’t meet the criteria to be insane
Even though I feel crazy.
I ask myself
How I have short term memory at 23?
Or maybe there exists a side of my personality
I am unwilling or not ready to see
That I am *******
Why the hell else
Would I repeat this same pain?

Some results are just not capable of change
So far I have found that a fire will always burn
But for some reason I continue to hold fire
In the palm of my hand.

One things is for sure,
I am obviously in the need for control and command.

I took the same course
Using that old coping source
Hoping it wouldn’t be the same result
I am aware I do this
But my therapist says it’s
Progress not perfection….

Like I said in the beginning
I learn things the hard way
I know myself well
Enough to know that part of me won’t change.

It might not progress or perfection, but at least it’s consistent.

I’ve spent my day doing nothing
Just nothing at all
Feeling what it’s like to life with myself
Without the cover up of something to do
Somewhere to go, or something to buy.

Only pacing around
Feeling the moments
Of emptiness that lives in between
The spaces of things I’ve already done
Waiting for another thing to come along

Some time does pass fast
Most minutes melt slow
Like a candle’s wax
Burning low

I’ve noticed
When the candle is blown out
The candle still looks the same
The only change
Was the atmosphere.
Then suddenly my fear
Of productivity
Disappears, and fades away
Traveling like smoke,
Making it’s way to my ceiling
Then I get this feeling
That everything is alright
I’ll be just fine.

Some time does pass fast
Most minutes melt slow
Like a candle’s wax
burning low

I love the smell of the once was a flame
It reminds me of a birthday
After a wish is made
Sometimes I wonder where all those wishes go
Or the one’s we paid for in the fountain.

Early on
I was taught
Happiness can be bought.

No more wishing in the fountains
Off of cakes, or stars,
Anything I want to be
Cultivates from me.

Anything I want to be
Cultivates from me.

It’s not something that I need
Just something that I know
When did I become so comfortable
With being miserable?

I know how this goes,
It works until it stops working.
And this time I had a pretty good run.
But no matter what I do,
It never feels like enough.

I know where I am,
I’ve been here before.
I didn’t think I would again
But this is the result of letting things get of out hand

It gets the better of me
And it’s so easy
To slip, and activate this cycle
While it’s so difficult,
To do what is best:
Follow the steps.

I don’t want to continue meeting dead ends.
Having to always begin again.

And again, and again, and again.


The best medicine is something I’ve already done.
At this time, it’s not an available option.

Though it would probably be the best
Rather than this mess:
A homemade version of recovery I’ve created.
The bootleg copy
Not even left over’s, just crumbs.
Something equivalent to a Band Aid applied on a broken bone.

Tonight I chose healthy coping.
Process everything through journaling.
Funny how
How pain brings out
The best insight;
Sometimes the best of what I write.

I’m hiding.
There are so many people I’ve been
And it’s like I’m waiting until I’m the vision
Others want to see
Before I step out, and show the world
This girl who is me.
But I am all things;
Not my past.
Not my present.
Just as I am,
Today.