and i think when they see me on that stage
they see something you could have been
had your sickness not swallowed you whole
and i think when they see the light hit my face
they see a beacon that illuminates the cages of
lost souls
and i think when they see me open my mouth
they see butterflies and bats and birds and brand new constellations
and i think when they look into my eyes
they see oceans and flowers and dreams of a child
waiting to be born.

I told you I didn’t want
to go out with you again
you asked me why I changed my mind
I gave you no in depth explanation
because there isn’t one
I told you that
sometimes I just change my mind
and that it just doesn’t feel right.
you asked me when it would feel
right and I said
I don’t know, man.
most people don’t like taking
no for an answer
but when you give them no choice
it feels pretty **** good because
no is a perfect answer
and sometimes yes is a perfect answer
but there is no right or wrong answer.
All I know is that saying no
feels good and I don’t owe anyone
anything and I can do whatever
the **** I want. At all times.
you thanked me for inspiring you
to write a poem and I said
you’re welcome because I already know
I’m ******* inspiring.
we only went on one date but
I bet it’s the best ******* poem
you’ve ever written.
Or maybe it’s the *******, but
either way, I know no matter
what pretty words you came up
with, not one of them could ever
sum up my beauty or complexity
because words can come close
but in the end they will always
always
fail.

he died on his birthday,
he was born on his deathbed.
we were all there, standing in the same room
when his last breath
escaped.
“he’s gone.” someone said,
it’s all a blur to me now.
the moon was full that night
as if it was trying to fill
the emptiness in our hearts.
we watched him die,
we watched him live.
he was a brother, an uncle, a father, a son.
there’s no harm in remembering him.
but please, don’t give up your life
just because the pain of having people leave you
is too much to bear.
you couldn’t save him,
i couldn’t save you.
i hope one day we can all learn
how to save ourselves.
we deserve that much, don’t you think?

what you don't know
is that at least one moment of every day
is dedicated to missing you, worrying about you, hoping for you,
needing love from you.

what you don't know
is that i can no longer tell you i miss you
because there is a literal concrete wall between
my head and my heart where you are concerned
to have and to hold you is
to have my heart ache and my head spin
and i can't do it anymore.

what you don't know
is that i think about you far too often,
mostly good things, but also painful things,
how much love we gave, how badly we both were suffering,
how in the end, the suffering consumed us.

what you don't know
is that i am so scared you won't be alive long enough
for me to tell you the truth about everything,
i'm scared we will never have "the conversation"
the conversation everyone dreads - the one where
the truth comes out
the conversation we've both been avoiding
for a long time now.

what you don't know
is that i wish we understood each other
i wish i could tell you how ever since i was a little girl
i have felt like i wasn't good enough
because you were supposed to take care of me
but you were getting drunk instead and so
i had to take care of you.

what you don't know is that
i actually do need you, even though i act like i don't
it's a defence mechanism, these walls are stronger
than your words
but unconditional love can break them down
in a second.

what you don't know is that i am way ******* stronger
than you could have ever imagined

you don't even know the half of 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.

yes,
the devil finds work for idle hands
but he also finds thoughts for idle minds
and no matter what kind of
destructive habit we take up
it is always
the danger
that we are addicted to

the devil fills me with dangerous thoughts
when i have nothing real
to focus on

it's a scary thing to realize about yourself,
that you can not always trust
the things your mind comes up with
what doesn't seem to matter
or what seems like a good idea
at the time
usually actually does matter
and is a really bad idea
all the time
but we don't realize this until later on,
and sometimes we learn, and sometimes
it's too late.

but that's not what this poem
is about.
"too late" is too much of a tragic thing
to say,
because is it really too late?
for some, yes, i mean, i've seen it firsthand
and it isn't pretty.

but i'm not going to end up like that.
this poem is actually about how whenever my mind
feels ***** like this,
i say a little prayer and surrender to the fact
that i cannot trust myself
and so i run a steaming hot bath,
dip my whole head under the water,
and stare up at the white tiled ceiling
not thinking, not obsessing,
just breathing
this is one successful technique i use
that makes danger seem boring
and clearly unnecessary.

and so
no matter what thoughts the devil injects into my mind,
this is something i must always remember:
having a bath is better,
having a bath is better.

pockets full of pointless poems
slipping out from under my tongue
i walk home with my arm around the moon,
cold feet finely balanced on the sun
thinking about
my eyes on your lips,
your hands on her hips,
a flash of potential,
a smile that fades,
my hand, lighting your cigarette
knowing full well
that’s as close to you
as i’ll ever get.

The prospect of physically going somewhere before you actually leave is somewhat surreal. It does not feel real until you are actually sitting on a plane, feeling yourself lift off of the ground. And in that moment of exhilaration you think,

“I am in the air. I could die right now and that would be okay.
I am leaving. I am returning. I am experiencing.”

And as you feel your heart leap into your throat, you can’t help but acknowledge that smiling is the only way you can even begin to catch your breath.

I’m watching you
fall
down
down
down
into the rabbit hole
again. I reach out
my hand, suspended in fear
you reject it and say,
“I have to go for real this time.”
this time? There is no time.
you don’t see yourself.
you can't see yourself.
I want to follow you
into the hole of oblivion just so you don’t have to be alone in this.
but hating myself is a hamster wheel
I can’t afford to run on anymore
even still, i wish i could make you see
how unbelievably perfect you are
and have always been.
I hope one day you’ll swim up
to the shore to clear your lungs,
and when you do,
I will be there, waiting for you
and we can go back to neverland
and live in the lagoon of love
that brought us together
in the first place, that seems like it was
so very long ago.

it really is remarkable
that i have made it through another winter,
that i have chosen
to shed another layer of skin,
the layer i finally realized i didn't
belong in.

it really is remarkable
that our paths have crossed,
two caterpillars of different countries
that are sometimes mistaken for
future moths

for distance is not the same as death
and the beauty has outweighed the suffering
for it's not about where you are or what you want
to go back to
it's the feeling of joy
that you will always miss,
always cherish, always try
to keep alive when you part ways and are
suddenly alone when everything starts
to inexplicably make you cry.

but what i've learned is
that there is sunlight
in the darkest crevices of the human heart,
no matter how far you go or how much you'd like
to call your sadness
art.  

so reach out to those around you,
the ones that live to see you thrive
cultivate the goodness in your heart,
make the choice to water the garden that will end up
keeping you alive.

of minimum wage.

I want you to open up your eyes
And look at the signs.
I want you to ask yourself who and what
Lights up your eyes and heart
And makes you feel everything and nothing but
Free.
I want you to suffer to the point
Where you are so sick of suffering
That there is no other option but
To relieve yourself from what’s holding
You back.
Until your only option is to be
Free.
I want to kiss your eyelids and tell
You that you have started a fire in me
That cannot, will not die.
I want to tell you that even if you don’t
Choose to be with me I will
Love you always.
Yes, I admit
I want you to leave her
But even more so,
I want you to be happy,
Even if that happiness is not
Something I can be a part of.
Whatever you decide.
I love you that much.
I love you that much.
I hope that scares you.
Because it should.

i showed you the con
tents of my crooked heart and
you left me stranded.

sad lonely restless
mind weak with old thoughts that are
more like bad habits.

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.

Everybody

Asks me what I’m doing and I shrug and

Give them a foggy answer that sounds like

A thunderstorm trying to be quiet and they smile like

They know what I mean

When they can’t possibly because

I don’t know what I mean and

Everybody

Turns to me and asks

“So I heard bits and peices of what happened, but can you tell me the story yourself?”

And so I give them my memorized brief synopsis of my series

Of personal tragedies and then end it with a shrug and a

“Oh well, you live, you learn” type statement

And they laugh and look away because

They know I’m just saying that to make myself feel better.

I find myself clinging to little vestiges of control by

Keeping up with what’s going on in other people’s lives because

Everyone has got their **** together and I guess

By surrounding myself with people who have their **** together

I’m testing the waters to see if I will become

A ****-together-kind-of-person which ends up being

An altogether futile endeavour.

All I can ever do, really, is be successful at admitting defeat

And somehow carry on

Despite how undeserving I feel of all

That is good around me.

i surprised myself by how quickly i
trusted you.
i handed you all my secrets with no thought of
the outcome.
and although perhaps it was the liquid courage that punctured
a hole in the heart of my fear of exposure that night,
the next day and the following days after
i was unusually filled with relief, no trace regret.
you are someone i am forever grateful to have met.
and when i cherish someone with my whole heart
i give myself no choice but to show them all of me
not as a test but as a rest, like a pause
in a sheet of music or a moment of silence in a room full
of people.
trust is an art form, it requires practice.
but sometimes you will meet someone you feel you have
met before, perhaps in another life or universe -
all you know is that
your souls are connected.
and so you feel the need to remind them of who you are,
with no eclipse of the ego to distort you.
i wonder if it scared you, if it made you feel things
you forgot you could feel.
when i told you that i am not very good at concealing my emotions,
i called it a curse and you disagreed.
in retrospect, i can see that that was your way
of appreciating my honesty.
blessings are almost always disguised as curses,
it just requires a true connection between two people like us
to strip the truth of its blackness, to lay down naked
side by side underneath the radiant glow of the night sky,
to speak of things we previously deemed
unspeakable,
to watch our fears explode like fireworks
inevitably parting ways in the wee hours of the
early morning,
twin souls endlessly,
tenderly entwined.

I think keeping you in my life would have killed me in the end.

There was a long time where I found comfort in that because I didn’t want to live.

Now that I’ve eliminated that possibility I’m more terrified than ever.

Well. Here’s to the beginning of living and not simply settling on surviving.

i scold myself for getting too attached;
i hate myself for loving too much;
i want to hurt myself when i get to the point
where i am scared of you leaving.
i will push you away before i need you
but i am afraid it is almost getting to
that point.
will you leave or
will i have enough courage to let
you stay?
what does it mean to love someone without
the fear of them leaving?
if i hurt myself, will it scare you away?
if i hurt myself and don’t tell you,
who and what would i even be
trying to protect?
when you say you’ll be right back,
i know what you mean to say is,
you’ll be back eventually.
whether that is hours or years,
there is no way to know for sure.
and that is why i look away and whisper
“okay.” because my need to be loved
and my fear of abandonment
are always at war
and looking you in the eye
is sometimes too painful
than me just saying “okay.” and letting you leave
with or without the illusion
of my permission.

Don’t get drunk when you’re already soberly sad. The sadness will become so amplified that you will fall asleep to the feeling of yourself drowning in your own tears.

2. Sleep on the ground without a mattress for one night. You will wake up feeling sore and bruised, and thirsty for the comfort of your own bed. See this as a metaphor for how you feel on the inside. Recognize that the bruises will fade. Find a way to embrace the power of longing.

3. Let him hold you while you cry. Get your snot all over his shirt, sob into his shoulder, let him comfort you. You went without comfort for so long it’s about time you let go and let yourself be loved.

4. Write it out. No one will ever understand your pain down to the bone but you. Bleed out through the pen instead of the skin. There’s no such thing as a page that would rather remain blank.

5. As hard as it is to accept, sometimes the only thing you can do for someone who’s hurting is remind them that you love them.

no one has ever been able
to make me feel
quite the same level of
worthlessness
as you do.

Maybe it started when I used to beg you to play barbies with me and you'd
Sit down for five minutes and then make up an excuse to leave.
Or maybe it started shortly after your mother died and I used to come into your room
And brush your hair back with my tiny three-year old hand and say,
"Mommy, I dusted your bedside table for you." Hoping I could maybe
Do something nice to cancel out the bad in order to get you
To stop crying and pay attention to me.  
Or perhaps it started when I used to sit at the bottom of the stairs in the dark
And listen to both of you fight for hours about nothing, wondering
If other peoples parents used words as knives.
Or perhaps it started the night of your birthday, right after your brother died
When your friends had to carry you inside the house and you were so drunk
You could hardly make out a mumble,
I had to check on you a thousand times in the night to make sure you were
Still breathing.
Or perhaps it was the time you told me about your childhood abuse,
The trauma that had never left you,
The attempted overdoses  you  made sound like you wished hadn't failed.

Or maybe there was nothing that started it, maybe
I had always had it.
Whatever word you want to fill the space of "IT" with,
Is fine by me.
Because I sure as hell can't put a finger on it.

But it's there.
It has been there for as long as I can remember.

*The presence of absence.

Missing the bus and
Being late for work
Is the #1 day ruiner of all time.

to discard a love that hasn’t yet occurred,
to pull away from a pair of lips you’ve yet to touch,
to let go of a hand that was never held,
to obliterate an iloveyou that was never said,
to look away from eyes that have yet to collide,
to reclaim a heart yet to be stolen,
these are things i think about
when i think of you.

no thank you, you can
keep your presents. What I need
now is your presence.

Once
A dying girl described me as a
walking poem she said
"You are a myriad
of words that contradict each other
but once you take a second to read them
somehow
they all make sense."

I wrapped my arms around her and said
"I will see you soon. Take care, love."
And like a little lost deer
or a bird with clipped wings
and tears in her eyes she said
"Thank you for coming."

i don't want to sit down and write a few words
only to delete them and then write a few new ones and then
delete them again
i don't want to go over to your house only to feel needed by you
because he broke up with you and then five days later
he wants you  back and so i'm no longer needed
delete delete
deleted
whenever you call me i watch the phone as it rings
once, twice, three times
but you don't leave a message
and i don't call you back

today i'm doing a little experiment
it's called
not feeling guilty
it's called
forgiving myself
it's called
smiling for no reason

and you're not here and i'm not sad about it
for once.

struggling to accept
that in moments like these
all i can do for you
is pray.

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.

once you embark on the journey
of healing
you can’t really go back.
i mean you can, but if you do,
you have twice the work to do
if you want to start healing again.
and it’s terrifying.
every day i’m faced with the choice to either
wallow in all the things that make me sad,
or count my blessings and revel in being happy and present
and every day is a
fight.
some days are like jumping through puddles in rain boots,
other days are like climbing the tallest mountain in bare feet,
but i have come to learn how to
appreciate the sad days
because they always teach me something i didn’t know
before, about how to be happy again.
there is still such a long way to go
and nobody can do it for you
so be brave,
be brave,
be brave.
you know how.
i promise you, you do.
you are worth all the stars in the sky, the moon and the sun combined.
you are a million candles in an echoey cathedral.
you are the three part harmony in every one of your favourite songs.
you are every kiss, every embrace, every scar
that smiles like a warrior when people notice that it has
healed.
you are not the things that have happened to you,
you are not your sadness or your loneliness or your thoughts.
so be brave,
be brave,
be brave.
you know how.
i promise you, you do.

you brushed my hair back from my forehead and whispered,
"why are you crying?"
"i don't know." i said.
how could i tell you it was because
everything about being near you was wrong?
how could i tell you that ever since i've known you
i've felt like you tried to take everything that was good in me
or maybe i gave too much away without thinking,
and now i feel like a shell of a human being?
how could i tell you that the reason i keep coming back to you
has nothing to do with me caring about you in any way
and has everything to do with the fact that i'm too weak to feel worthwhile
when being on my own?
how could i tell you that you owe me a million apologies without
you accusing me of how many things i've done wrong?
how could i tell you to let me go right now
without you asking me to list valid reasons why?
how could i tell you that my heart is tired, that i can't
do this anymore,
that the act of collapsing into your paper-cut arms is easier
than admitting i'm not okay?

"i don't know." is all
i can say.

the body will always remember
what the mind will spend
a lifetime trying to forget.
And there is just no running away
from that.

today
I found out my manager’s mother
passed away
today
I walked by a couple
that were getting their wedding
pictures taken,
I told the bride she was
beautiful.
today
I swam 20 laps and relished
in the moments I was holding
my breath
1,2,3 breathe
1,2,3 breathe
1,2,3 breathe
life is so
devastatingly
fleeting.

Like Sylvia,
I too, wanted to be important by being
Beautiful
But because I associate ugly things
With being beautiful
A sense of importance
Is purely fleeting and fragmented,
Like the sound of my mother playing piano
And not finishing the peice.

the girl that you once knew
is still right here,

my holes weren't made for you to fill.

Don’t bother wondering

Why I left without saying goodbye

I learn from the best, I can’t help it I’m lost

Marvel at my vacancy

I can’t help it I can’t help you

Don’t bother asking

Why I came without saying hello

I learn from the past, I can’t help it I’m sad

Notice the overflow

Of all of these feelings that don’t know where to go

If I gave them all to you,

Would you wash and fold them and

Organize them please?

Tell me which ones to keep and which ones I don’t need?

I can’t help it I don’t know where I am

There were too many signs pointing me in the wrong direction

And not enough memories reminding me not to

Follow them

I’m a good song gone wrong and you

Are a television

Draining my potential

I am an ocean.
And
you have
polluted every
inch
of me.

a sadness

that wraps around my heart and squeezes so tight

i can hardly breathe most days

it’s a snake that lives under my skin and moves

with sloth-like speed

i don’t talk about it because

there’s nothing to talk about,

there’s nothing to complain about,

there’s no real reason

to be this sad.

i don’t want pity

i don’t want questions

i don’t want attention

i don’t want affection

i don’t want to have to want

anything at all.

i may look pretty to you but i feel

oh so ugly living with this

snake under my skin

it takes all feeling right out of me and leaves me

alone with my tired heart that somehow continues

to beat.

there is a certain comfort in having no one left in your life

to lose

there is a certain consistency in my gaze

but i don’t want to talk about it, no

there is nothing to talk about because

the snake will ruin you

if you dare sneak into my heart

if you dare creep under my skin.

I miss
Everyone I was
Everyone I wish I could save
Every place I’ve been
That I wish I could have stayed

I miss you.

you made promises
you lifted my heart
you made me laugh
you made me sing
you got me inspired
you treated me like i was a creative equal
you gave me something to look forward to
you said we were in this together

and then you went on tour
without a word
and all i knew was
we would no longer be sharing
the stage
and when we see each other now
i have absolutely nothing
to say

i won't be coming to your shows anymore

I sent you three poems
that reminded me of you
that were written by someone else
to remind you
that even after all that’s happened
you will always be important to me
that even after all that has
been left unsaid
sometimes someone else can
sum up
how I feel about you
better than I ever could.
and for once I am not
eagerly awaiting a response
from you
because I actually don’t need anything
from you anymore.

I am okay
without you. And
I really do hope you’re happy.

with my head gently resting on your shoulder,
eyelids heavy with a golden slumber,
i drifted off to the land where nothing exists
but your voice,
reading me poems by Yeats. a single
tear you shed, it fell down your cheek and you
said
“yes.”
you pulled me closer to you, reminding me to breathe.
you held me in your arms like they were a sanctuary
i could live in without ever feeling like my wings
had to be clipped in order for me to be
free.
you mustn’t starve yourself of the things that give you life, my dear,
oh but I know, this life sometimes feels like too much to bear.
food, love, affection
you looked up at me in all your
perfect imperfection
as my heart became so full
i began to float away.
when i look at you, i see stars
and suns and giant moons
i hear fireworks transmuted to verses
of poems and songs i wish I had written,
i feel all the beauty and pain that is needed to be felt
in order to be human.
treasure you,
do i ever
the joy is loud!
when we are
together.

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.

Sometimes the people in your life that you love and trust a lot won’t always be there for you when you thought they would be and even though I have known this for a long time it is still one of the most tragic truths in the world I think.

Giving up
is no longer in my repertoire.

every time you look
at me my words light on fire,
i can't say a thing.

skinny boy, all bones
no lies, that song will always
remind me of you.

i’m trying to be strong but i have to admit

living without you

ruins me.

*the hurting continues

despite how much i’ve learned and lost
again and again from love,
i will never be the girl who does the things she should
to protect her own heart.
the moment i know i love you,
i will hand it to you, in a box marked
“FRAGILE: Handle with care” but you won’t.
you never will.
i won’t pretend i don’t know this the entire time.
i will only dress in red just because i know
it is your favourite colour,
i will ask you what your middle name is because not knowing
little details about you will drive me insane.
i’m not the girl who moves on if her feelings are not
reciprocated.
because love for me is not an easy thing.
it is everything. it is the only thing.
when i love, i love hard.
i live and breathe love,
i dream love, i am love.
i will try to kiss you when we’re both drunk and delirious,
i will keep trying to kiss you even when you say
no, that it “isn’t the right time.”
i will shower you with profuse apologies for things
that are not even my fault to begin with.
i will touch your hand at every chance i get,
because i know one day soon i won’t be able
to touch you at all.
i will become calloused by your rejections,
despite your obvious forbidden returned affections.
i will consider myself a ******* because of how painful it is
to not give up.
with me, giving up is not an option.
giving up has always been the curse.
the curse i will forever wonder why i was not
blessed with.