they warn you not to cling to that which you do not wish
to lose
but what if everything is like water in a desert,
or maybe a frozen pole i can’t help but lick,
it’s all so smiling,
unharmed and unaffected,
while i chase my tail
all swollen and restless.
why must the sun set every night?
is it laughing as it leaves?
i have been trying to decipher what the moon
has been trying to tell me all my life.
for a while i was sure she was whispering,
“you are meant to be loved.”
but then one night i heard her shout:
“you are meant to love, regardless of if you are loved in return.”
sometimes she starts sobbing so loudly i wonder how the stars
can put up with her, let alone begin to offer her comfort.
what does the sun think about all of this?
then sometimes i stare at a tree and make friends
with a few birds and ask them the same question.
all they ever have to say is found within the gaps
of silence, betwixt their chirps
and if my mind is quiet enough,
i can hear the beating of my heart, resonating
in those spaces.
when did i stop needing my mother so much?
why do i love so hard so much
so painful i might implode?
i still long for ex lovers,
i still cherish old friends.
but nostalgia has no place in this.
this is something entirely set and insisting on being
right here. right now.
perhaps it is time for another visit with the moon.
i will call out for her tonight, even if my heart skips a beat
at the sound of her sobs.

you will sit there and never love me,
i will sit there and always love you.
and neither of us will ever find the courage
to speak of it.

i can’t listen to the Strokes without thinking of my first love,
and how I only fell in love with them because
they were his favourite band, and i was in love with him.
i can’t listen to Mozart, Chopin, Satie, or classical music of any kind without thinking of my mother playing piano late at night
while I fell asleep to the sound of her fingers emanating warm melodies.
i can’t listen to Elliott Smith without thinking of being on the bus on the way to high school, and how much solace his music brought me
during those deeply lonely years of anguish and abandonment.
i can’t listen to the Beatles without thinking of my entire family,
jamming together in the garage, without thinking of love.
i can’t listen to the Weepies without thinking of my best friend,
driving around in her car on our way to anywhere, how those songs are symbols of our friendship in the form of sound.
i can’t listen to Regina Spektor without thinking of myself, throughout all stages of my life, without feeling alive, reminding me of who i am,
as an artist, as a lover, as a being.
i can’t listen to Tegan and Sara, *****, Rilo Kiley, Metric, Yeah Yeah Yeahs, or Broken Social Scene without thinking of my high school friends, all those concerts we went to, all the late nights.
That was the music that made me brave.
I can’t listen to Jazz music without thinking of my grandfather, and how many times I sang with him while he played the piano and smiled.

most of these people have come and gone
and i could go on
but if I’ve loved someone, there is a song that I will always associate
with them, and that time of my life.
music is the definition of every moment.
it’s one of the most comforting truths that there is.

i’ve listened to the new St. Vincent album about ten times today
and i just have to say
that those songs i sing that i wish i wrote
are extensions of myself because
they make me feel something and
if i couldn’t sing i probably wouldn’t play an instrument
simply because i use instruments
as an excuse to sing words i need to say
and when i sing them i mean them,
not when i say them,
when i sing them.
i’ve listened to the new St. Vincent album about eleven times today
and i just have to say
i love you, i mean it
i mean it, i sing it.

days are more about
reading, learning, listening
to the life that i have,
to the life i wish to live.
(instead of watching them float by,
as i used to do, drowning myself
in a mud-bath of self hatred day after inevitable day.)

nights are more about
hoping, breathing, praying
to some kind of creator that watches over me,
who i can talk to when my mind becomes an enemy.
(instead of being convinced that my mind is God, therefore i must be
all of the horrible things it said i was: too sensitive, too invested,
too worried, too big, too much.)

jobs are more about
getting up, dressed, and out of the house
to go somewhere for four hours to interact with people,
make someone smile, and even some cash.
(instead of seeing it as a wasteful pastime or a distraction from
myself in order to continue a life of destruction while in disguise.)

friends are more about
less talking, more listening and profound fulfilment for
the few i have and being content with not needing more,
being honest and loyal, accepting that sometimes
people cannot always be physically inseparable but that
does not mean their hearts are not.
(instead of calling myself a failure for not having ten people on
speed dial, not being “popular”, not being a “schmoozer” or “liked enough”, every
******* ego boost story we’ve all told ourselves at one point or another.)

parents are more about
patience, forgiveness and acceptance
for even though i did not have a happy upbringing,
parental stability, or a healthy environment, they did
what they could with what they had and i no longer
wish to be on my deathbed just to prove a selfish point.
(forgiving the very person who gave me life for all the years
of abandonment and neglect is the hardest thing i will ever do,
and am still in the process of. it is a miracle to say though,
that things are significantly better than i ever imagined them to be.)

life is more about
living:
sleeping, eating, moving, watching, learning, sitting, singing, speaking,
listening, crying, smiling, creating, walking, asking, wondering, hoping, playing, detaching.
being at peace with the mundane and calling it growth.
sometimes i’m so filled with life my body feels like a helium balloon that is barely able to stay on the ground. other times i’m so tired i stay in bed
for an entire day doing nothing but worry i am a failure. i am learning to be okay with catching glimpses of who i am, but not always being fully certain. (instead of looking to others to validate my ego, or sense of self i had manipulated so that i could be perceived a certain way.)
**instead of believing the illusions, i choose to challenge them.

I feel most safe when I feel most loved
And I was lucky to feel both
consistently for two months.
Being away from home didn’t mean
I was away from love,
but that distance
gave me the opportunity to really realize
the truth about most things.
You see, it’s an instinct to be lonely,
to feel like I don’t matter.
I don’t have many friends anymore
and those I do have I’ve held onto
because they are the reflections of myself I long to see.
And what I’ve learned is that time doesn’t heal every wound. Not when
wounds are places you’d rather forget and people you are sick of being.
No, it isn’t time alone.
It’s patience and acceptance, a mix of
hope and laughter and awareness.
It’s a lot of energy spent on undoing each intricate lie you’ve ever told yourself.
It’s forgiveness and strength and an outpour of love for everyone you’ve ever known.
It’s detachment and perspective and hindsight.
It’s about knowing that you still have a long way to go.
Time is just there, along for ride.

I feel safe when I feel most loved.
I feel loved when I feel most safe.
Maybe I am both of these things.
Maybe you are, too.

oh and how fleeting this little life can be
i try to hold onto each moment before it becomes a memory
how do we survive each goodbye without unzipping our skin,
stepping out of it and screaming:
COME ON. GET IN.
how do we say i love you without making it sound like
an apology
for every tiny exhale that sounds like a discrepancy
between you and yourself and that voice in your head
you know three is a crowd you know you’re not
better off dead
now somehow it’s February and I am waking up to the rain
whose song is a house that lives in and out of my veins
there have been people i have loved while some adored from afar
i don’t see them anymore but they know who they are
i received a letter from my mother today in the mail
she’s trying to become yet terrified to fail
i tell her she’s allowed to have a thousand breakdowns a day
i tell her she’s a miracle simply because she decided to stay
i’ll never know how we manage to survive each other’s love
it’s too small to hold onto and too big to conceive of
and yet there will be heartbreak, great loss and despair
i am going to keep listening to the sound of what’s there
as for time, well he knows he is a great thief
i made love to him on the nights i was devoured by grief
and sometimes i wish i could go back to my old self and say
that she didn’t have to shatter, that things would be okay
it can never be for sure that all things have a purpose
i try to believe in a God without getting nervous
the universe is holding us in the palm of her hand
just know that you are loved,
you don’t have to understand.