I wear all my labels with pride.
I am some terrible things, but even from them I don't hide.
I am selfish though I try to be kind.
I am a firm believer of speaking my mind.
I believe to live and let live. I always accept much less than I give.
I abide by my own twisted moral code.
Its ok for me to do what I like as long as you've been told
Of the monster I can be Then I am free
of the burden of guilt coz you've been warned.
That at some point on our path you will be burned.
I'm not proud of some of these things.
But I also carry my consequences as part of my being.
So yes, I am an ***, I can admit.
Why you ask do my friends put up with it?

I'm always so much fun,
still up partying with the sun.
Always laughing, always a good time.
Never selfish with what's mine.
I can hold my whiskey next to any man and more.
Most likely drink him under the floor.
My word is yes. which became a problem.
I'm only ever the fun girl to them.
I don't get the romantic fairy tale.
The happily ever after with storms and hail.
I always go home alone. I am weary to the bone.
Of this fun girl act
but she has all the things I lack.
I've come to despise this fun label.
As it leaves an empty seat next to me at the table.

Can't they see the beautiful me inside?
I paint, write ****** poetry and some days I cry.
I took a decorating course and one to cook.
Its all there if you take a deeper look.
I love music with soul
and burn candles and intense to help me feel whole.
Some nights I don't sleep.
and my 3 cats are the only company I keep.
My dad died and my ex was an addict.
My life hasn't been very easy or fantastic.
But they don't care about any of those things.
They only want the fun I bring.
I'm tired and drained from all of this.
But I won't pack her away,  imagine all the fun I'd miss

It's one of those days where I need to remember to be kind to myself
When my breath is hardly enough to give life to an elf
One of those days where I struggle to get out of bed
I cant get anything to sit right in my head
Simply for eating something, I pat myself on the back
I have to keep reminding myself not all my thoughts are fact
John Michael stipe says not to take pictures of the bad days
To hide them away and leave it where it lays
But I take the pictures, and keep them on a shelf
To remind myself how to pick me up again when I fell
I send the bad me good thoughts on postcards
To tell myself that some days are just hard
The bad me is cold, careless and not at all nice
She likes to indulge in every frowned upon vice
Yet I accept the bad me just as I do the good
Tomorrow might be a better day and the good me will win in all likelyhood

I love reading Bukowski
and if I could pick one person to have dinner with,
he would be it.
He got it.
And I want to tell him I think I get it.
In his poem one tough mother fckr, he talks about this survivalist cat. How this cat inspired him and he holds up the cat
and says this is what its about, look,
and they don't get, and the cat knows its *******.
I love how he said it was a beautiful fight, still is.
And how winning the war within yourself is worth winning.
I want to get drunk with him and tell him I think I get it.
I have fought battles and wars my entire life, and find it beautiful. There's a beauty in finding peace and letting go.
In getting up everyday when you have no reason to.
Plowing through the hard days and then looking back on the good ones, smiling, knowing you made it.
Battle worn, scarred, older, maybe wiser.
Certainly takes more whiskey to get you drunk
and more cigarettes to fill the lungs
More pills to help you sleep but you're still here, tough mother f@ck*r
It was a beautiful fight, still is.
The battle is never over.
For some, there's always another around the bend.
Small victories and large defeats.
And I celebrate them all.
because if there was ever a fight worth winning, you are it.
None of us are getting out alive, its the living that matters.
So live well enough that death trembles to take us.
I want to tell him I think I get it.
And have a bottle or two with him.
And celebrate him and myself and it all, the good and the bad
and live before I die.

i was reading warsan shire
when i got your message
and my foundation shook underneath me
the foundation i built
after the earthquake that was you
and i must have reread it
a thousand times
and i must have thought up
a thousand responses
but never sent one because to do that is
a sign of weakness all my friends tell me
and i can never show weakness or falter
but what about the weakness
you exposed in me
the cracks you chipped further
with your brutal axe
and i can remember the way it felt
to hear you say the words
to know that you let another girl
touch you like i used to
how my chest caved in on itself
and for a while there i lost myself
because i didn’t know who i was
without your name attached to mine
and you have a new girl now
one who doesn’t hold the stars in her eyes
for you like i did
and i’ve ****** my fair share of guys
trying to get the taste of your mouth
out of mine
and my throat is bursting
with things i want to say
words words words
with no meaning except anger and hatred
but i know it would all be for a boy
who couldn’t even tell me my middle name
so i keep it inside me
and they say you should never hold in anything
for fear of coming undone at the seams
but i’m the one
who stitched myself back together
and found my footing again
without you
and i pierced my ears
and got that tattoo on my back
not for you
but to separate myself from you
separate myself from the girl who
would gladly sit underneath your thumb
and i used to count anniversaries but now
i just count days since
and it’s been three months since
you took away a part of me
but it’s a piece that i no longer need
so save it for a day when
she doesn’t fit your mold of a perfect woman
when you remember how much i loved you
for free

you are a horse running alone
and he tries to tame you
compares you to an impossible highwayto a burning housesays you are blinding him that he could never leave you
forget you want anything but you
you dizzy him, you are unbearableevery woman before or after you is doused in your name you fill his mouth his teeth ache with memory of taste his body just a long shadow seeking yours but you are always too intense frightening in the way you want him unashamed and sacrificial he tells you that no man can live up to the one who lives in your head and you tried to change didn't you?
closed your mouth more tried to be softer prettierless volatile, less awake but even when sleeping you could feel
him travelling away from you in his dreams so what did you want to do love
Split his head open?you can't make homes out of human beings
Someone should have already told you that and if he wants to leave then let him leave you are terrifying and strange and beautiful something not everyone knows how to love....

This time
Is different
I tell myself
Every single time