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

you came to me at a time in my life
when i needed it the most,
for it was literal life or death,
though neither of us
really knew that then.
i didn't know what hit me until later on,
when you mailed me your journal and trusted me
with the deepest darkest terrifyingly beautiful parts
of you. when i gave you endless warnings about how
difficult i am to have around and you put your hands
in the air and said
i don't care. i love you. i'm choosing to stay.
it was like i was waiting all my life to have someone
say those words and actually mean them.
you meant them.
i have, to this day, never met anyone
so completely compassionate, sensitive, intriguing, magnetic, inspiring,
funny, self aware, hopeful, wise, intelligent,
unconditionally loving, and forgiving
as you.
i often find it difficult to write
about you because i become so frustrated when
i attempt to come up with the right words
to accurately capture
how much i love you.
let me just say: there are no words for this.
words words words
i need words to describe
how everlastingly thankful i am to have met you,
how you have taught me more about what it means
to be a woman than my own mother,
how God heals me through your love and undying
support.
how i've regained so much of my self worth by having you
around, reminding me who i am
and how important it is to remember who you are,
each and every day.
this is not like any other love i have ever known.
this is pure,
this is real,
this is rare.
distance is the only thing that separates us,
but even that fails to keep us apart.
i miss you i miss you i miss you
i love you i love you i love you
you are the most precious creature i have ever
had the privilege to know.
*i will see you soon, love.

When someone loves their addiction more than they love you,
they will give you things
like candleholders and dried strawberries,
iPhones and giftcards,
midnight drunk texts,
they will hold out
an ashtray for your pain,
but they will cover their ears for they
have long since stopped wanting
to listen.
They will send you
on trips that lead to nowhere
but a dead end of endless guilt.
They will ****
with your head until you're convinced
that blackmail is love
and spilling the truth is hate.
They will tell you relentlessly
how much they love you,
how much they need you,
how you're the only person that doesn't leave them.

When someone loves their addiction more than they love you,
they will disappear for weeks, you will
forget what their voice sounds like
you will begin to miss
perhaps an idea you had of them
you will begin to question
if they ever did exist in the first place.
They will use you and you will think it's love,
your friends will shake their heads and tell you to run for dear life
in the opposite direction
and you will push them away because
they couldn't possibly understand the depth of this love,
they weren't there when you had to pick up the pieces,
and you will tell yourself
that they aren't there, still.

You will beg for them to stop
Maybe someday, maybe someday they will say
and you will hope and you will hope and you will hope
but they won't, they won't, they won't.

You will slowly begin to crumble
You will master the art of appearing strong
and you will find new people to save
thinking maybe just maybe
this time will be different
this time will be different
but it never is,
it never is.

And then one day you will have to make a choice
between truly living or truly dying, because yes, you see,
it will get that bad.
You will cry for days,
you will settle on anything less
than love.

You will have to finally face the truth
because something's gotta give,
it might as well be a first
or second
or third
or billionth attempt
at sewing yourself back up.

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.

This year will be better,

Good,

BRIGHT, even.

I promise myself that.

And I don’t plan on breaking that promise,

Or breaking any other part of myself

For that matter.

love is
the sound of the voice of a girl who lives
3,781.8 km away
who calls you just to hear you say
Hello,
i love you,
i am not only here
but i am
listening.
Because long distance charges don't apply
to those who have telephone wires attached
to their hearts.

love comes
in waves of
strange connections,
painstaking inventions
that enable
the sad to meet the sad
the sick to meet the sick
where only a fragile minority find each other and decide
to stay and not feed each others
insatiable demons
because there is a mutual understanding
of what it is to be at war with oneself
constantly fighting to get through
another day
where something as small as a
hello,
i love you
is enough to make you want
to stay.

love is
a series of lessons you learn
from a girl
who is wise beyond her years
who is too young to be so sad
who is too smart to be so uncertain
who is too brilliant to realize her own
abysmal radiance.

Dearest Hillary,
in exactly one month
you will be greeting me
with the same open heart you always have
the only difference is
i will finally be able
to feel
it
beat.

what were you expecting,
for me to put on some grand production of hysteria
to display the hurt that you have caused me
for some meaningless pity party?
yes you have succeeded in breaking my heart,
congratulations.
did you think i wasn’t expecting this?
to love means to hurt, there is no way around it
i accepted this fate a long time ago
because i was made to love,
and will therefore hurt, i don’t expect anything otherwise.
i’m not a ******* fragile doll that is going to crumble
over some stupid boy who is too much of a coward
to grow and receive the love i have to give.
i am worth more than that.
why did you keep looking at me as though i was about to fall apart?
why did you keep asking me if i wanted to break, smash anything?
i have always been numb before feeling anything,
it’s the only way i know how to survive the intensity of my own emotions.
you don’t deserve to wipe the tears from my cheeks anyway.
my sadness is no longer your business, it probably never was.
why did you hesitate so long when i asked you if you love me?
are you really going to let your fears prevent you from being loved?
you’re lucky, too lucky
and in the end, you probably don’t deserve me
but i don’t care. i loved you then, i love you now, i will love you always
i’m too loyal, too strong
for my own good.
but i don’t regret any of it.
there is no point in regretting love anyway,
there never is.
so yes, you broke my heart, congratulations.
worse things have happened.
it doesn’t mean i’m going to tear myself apart over this.
i’m worth more than that.
if and when you come around wanting me back,
i’m going to make it pretty **** clear that i have no intention
to **** around and play with my heart because
those days are over.
if i am going to have you, i want all of you.
because that’s how i love, and how i expect to be loved in return.
anything less would be emotional suicide.
i’m okay with loneliness,
i’m okay without you.
if that is how it has to be, then so be it.
so stop asking me if i’m okay,
i was okay before you and i will be okay after you
i am not as breakable as i may seem,
so good luck with your quest to find yourself.
maybe you’ll never come to the simple realization
that “finding yourself” is a lifelong process,
not something that comes compact in a box labeled
“fulfillment/purpose: open for answers” written on it in
permanent marker.

timing is probably the most important thing
in the entire universe
when you really think about it -
it's like when a certain record comes out
and it defines that entire era
of your life
like the summer of 2001 when I was nine,
in the car with my dad on a hot summer day
and he stumbled upon "I'm Like A Bird" on one of the stations,
and we turned it up, rolled the windows down,
and we knew that that song would always be
ours.
and it's truly just so crucial to our existence,
the timing of things -
like when I met this beautiful person on the internet
who soon after became my best friend
and turned my whole life around. but the timing of it
was perfect and had i not met her right on that day of that month
of that year, i probably would not be remotely close
to who i am today.
and I already know that this summer is going to be associated
with Daft Punk's 'Random Access Memories', with "Get Lucky" blaring loud
on every stereo in the city,
it will remind me of Eisley's album, "Currents", and the song "On My Balcony"
by the band, Flunk.
Six months from now when I look back on the summer of 2013,
I will think of those songs and those records,
I will think of how hard I was trying to stay afloat and become
a better person, for nobody but myself,
and how good of a job I was doing with the action
of letting go of things that were toxic for me.
I will think of blonde hair and dancing in the rain, hot sweaty shifts
running around a crowded restaurant, being sad about how much time
I still have left until I get to see my favourite person again, and I will think of
boredom and sunburns and bad poems and love and hope and willingness
to overcome fear. And music. So much music.
This isn't really a poem but more of a very lengthy acknowledgment
regarding the importance of timing, especially perfect timing,
and how even bad timing is usually disguised as
perfect timing in the end.

Health walks into the room and spots me in a second. He orders a scotch on the rocks and motions me over toward the bar. I pretend not to see him. I am having a deep conversation with Death, and it must not be disturbed. Death is telling me about her experience with Life, and how they like to share a good **** every once in a while. “You should call him up, he loves a cruel tease.” She says, holding her red wine with a wink. I think about her suggestion and ask for Life’s number. She looks around in her purse, pulls out a small crumpled piece of paper, hands it to me and says, “If he doesn’t pick up the first time, don’t leave a message. Wait for him to call you.” I nod,  fold it, and put it in my pocket.
I walk over to the bar where Health is sitting and order a tall Diet Coke with ice, indifferent to his presence.
“So, haven’t seen you around here much lately.” He says nonchalantly.
“I’ve been busy. Among other things.” I reply cooly.
“What kind of things?”
“I dunno. I’ve just been preoccupied.”
“With what?” He persists.
“I dunno… Sadness. Disappointment. Uncertainty.” I say.
“Ahh… Those are tough preoccupations. I met with Sadness the other day, she couldn’t stop crying when we were having lunch. She diluted her soup! And Disappointment, well, I haven’t seen him in ages. He sends me a Christmas card once every couple years or so. As for Uncertainty, well she lives in my basement. She makes me cookies instead of paying rent. She can never hold down a job for more than a few hours really. But she sings beautifully in the shower!” He smiles.
“Have you ****** Life?” I ask.
Health bursts out in bouts of uncontrolled electric laughter.
“Have we ******?! Honey, we have four children! Hope, Recovery, Freedom and Passion.”
“But she’s cheated on you with Death.” I say.
“How do you know?” He asks.
“Death told me.”
“You know better than to believe what Death tells you, don’t you?”
I look down at my fingernails. Jagged, short blue stubs.
“I dunno…”
“Have you met my children?” He asks.
“Briefly, at a party once.” I reply.
Health closes his eyes and takes a long, deep breath. He whispers something I don’t quite understand, something in a different language. The bar is now packed with people, and the music is blaring. The song “Language is a Virus” by Laurie Anderson is playing in the background. The atmosphere is chaotic yet Health maintains a peaceful composure.
Health slowly opens his eyes and says to me,
“It was lovely chatting with you. I hope to see you around somewhere again soon.”
He puts on his leather jacket and helmet, and walks out of the bar.
I remain seated, watching the chaos, with my hand in my pocket, feeling the folded piece of paper that Death had given to me mere moments ago. I just sat there, with Laurie’s lyrics looming about my head:
“Paradise is exactly like where you are right now. Only much, much better.”

-People need you more than you think they do, especially during times of intense personal change. It’s important to watch the people that you love grow and change and move away and make mistakes, and to be there for them 100%. Don’t make it about yourself. Looking past your own selfish wants will do you a lot of good and you will be doing yourself a favour in the end.

-React: cry, scream, throw things, write things you don’t mean, say things you don’t mean and reach out when you need help. Give yourself a limited amount of time to feel pain and suffering. Say to yourself “I am ANGRY about this RIGHT NOW. I am going to give myself an hour, five hours, a whole day to feel this pain." Then let go of it. You can’t be happy again until you feel that pain, and let go of it wholeheartedly. You can’t appreciate happiness without contrast. Life is all about contrast. The day you let that pain define you is the day you are actively choosing not to grow.

-Don’t judge or label yourself for “overreacting." Iain Thomas once said: "The sun doesn’t apologize for being the sun. The rain doesn’t say sorry for falling. Feelings just are.” The sooner you accept this, the sooner you can accept yourself and your feelings just as they are. No strings attached.

-It’s important to abandon the idea that you have of your parents. They are not wiser, more intelligent, more experienced than you just because they created you. They are not heroes, they are humans. They are going to hurt you just as much as you can hurt yourself. Forgive them. Love them. This is what being a family is about.

-Stop expecting people to treat you the way you treat them. Just because you believe in being a good friend to someone doesn’t mean they are going to treat you the same way. Don’t stop being a good friend just because of this fact. Don’t shut off the “come in, we’re open!" sign of your heart just because you’ve been disappointed or hurt one too many times. Your goodness is rare. Just because your heart is too big doesn’t mean it is a flaw. It is unique and special. Cherish that.

-Your siblings need you to be there for them more than you think they do. Make sure you tell them you love them as much as you can, don’t just tell them, but SHOW them. Actions speak louder than words, and trust me, if you actually show them you love them, they will never ever forget the way you made them feel.

-Try not to worry about money too much. I know it’s hard when there are a lot of things you want to accomplish and experience in order to feel like you are living a full life, but money doesn’t have to be one of those things. Just because it is a necessity does not mean it should take away from your potential to be truly happy. Whatever you’re doing to make ends meet is enough. Try to find solace in that.

-A wise friend once told me to live every moment of my life as if I had chosen it. Working a long and tiring shift? You chose this. Be happy you chose it. Having a long and annoying conversation with a stranger? You chose this. Find joy in it. Counting down the days until your next vacation? You chose this timeframe. Find joy in each day before you go away to find joy somewhere else. Have you lost or feel like you are losing someone who is very important to you? Don’t worry. You chose this. Love is not lost just because the person you love is changing. Love is all around. You still have time.

-Give people a lot of chances. People don’t often realize that your presence is actually a huge gift in their lives. There is only one of you, and people will take advantage of you, use you, walk all over you, and be careless with your heart because they don’t realize how precious you are. Just because you're fragile doesn’t mean other people know it too. Forgive them for this. Everyone is doing their best with what they have and it really has nothing to do with you.

-Laugh as much as you can, especially on your worst days. The best feeling in the world is knowing you have not lost your ability to laugh on the days where you want nothing more than to not exist.

-Sometimes it’s important to give more to people than they give to you. You may feel cheap and used at the time, but when you look back on how much you gave to someone, whether it be love or time or conversation, you will realize that they needed it more than you thought they did. This will be a gift that you are unintentionally giving to yourself.

-Be brave. People are going to shut you down and contradict you when you open up to them. This has nothing to do with you. People unknowingly project their pain and jealousy onto others without even realizing it. Misery loves company. The day you stop keeping miserable people company is the day they will try to keep defining you as the meek and miserable person they want you to be, and they will resent you for it. This doesn’t mean you are a bad person. Sometimes it just means that you have to let those people go, even the ones you thought you wouldn't have to. Anyone who doesn’t want to see you happy is automatically someone not worth having in your life.

-Pain is not something to be feared. It’s hard to realize this when you’ve spent a long time trying to numb yourself, but as soon as you stop running away from whatever it is you were trying to numb out, you will see that it’s actually not as scary as you thought it was. Avoiding pain is often scarier than confronting it.

-Have a support system that is not family-based. This is especially hard if you come from an extremely sick/co-dependent family and are used to being unhealthily dependent on family members and are not able to distinguish their feelings from your own. You don’t need to share everything with your family just because they are your family. And often times, you will be doing more harm to them than you realize. Get a therapist. Tell them everything. Make the choice to be more careful with your words and actions around your family. You don’t need a thousand friends to feel supported. Even a twelve-step support group you go to once a week can help. Do anything but stay in the same never-ending cycle of codependent family interactions.

-Try to be as honest as you can, especially with yourself. Even when it hurts.

-Keep a journal. Wake up and write everything you wish you could say out loud down in there. No one has to read it. It doesn’t have to be good. Just get it out. You will feel a huge weight lift from your shoulders, I promise.

-Cherish the people who have stuck around when you were at your worst. Cherish the people who never stopped believing in you when you had stopped believing in yourself. Thank them for not giving up on you. Thank them for teaching you how to not give up on yourself.

-Try not to worry so much. Treat every person and situation in your life the same way you would treat a newborn baby. You will not get from 0-100 in a single day. It is literally one day at a time, especially for those who are trying to get better from extreme trauma, addictions, or mental illness. Be patient with yourself. You are doing the best you can and I am proud of you for that.

-Wherever you are at right now is where you’re meant to be.

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.

i wish for you to be all yours
before i can ever call you mine
but i'm afraid you've gotten so used
to belonging to someone else for so long
that you forget what belonging to yourself
even means.
you love me,
i can see it in your eyes,
i can hear it in your laugh,
i can feel it in your kiss.
but love foreshadows loss and i cannot pretend
that some days i feel more like a fool than a warrior
for going through with love, again
one more time, i can only hope
it is the last
for there is no one else i could ever wholeheartedly give myself to
in the way that i do you.

i wish for you to be all yours
before i can ever call you mine
but i am acutely aware that you lost yourself in someone else
for so long that you might never be able to get those
parts of yourself back, not to give to another lover,
but to keep for yourself, to be who you are,
who you aspire to be.
i want the best for you, even if that
doesn't include me.
yes, i am selfish
yes, i am sad
when you tell me your plans to sit down with her tomorrow
was i supposed to be glad?
she had you long before i did, and perhaps i'm afraid
that she will always have some sort of claim
on your heart.
i'm trying to be understanding of the fact
that this is part of you facing yourself,
necessary closure, somewhat of a fresh start.

i wish for you to be all yours
before i can ever call you mine
and sometimes anticipating being left
comforts me more than the concept
of passing time.

She was five years old when she first stepped on a plane
The stranger next to her smiled and asked,
“Where are you headed, honey?”
She gazed out the window, smiled and said
“To the one place it doesn't hurt to stare.
I'm going to the moon."
Her mother brushed her hair back gently and whispered to the stranger,
“It must have been so beautiful to be so oblivious, hey?”
And they both laughed discreetly as if she hadn’t heard.

But what they didn’t know
Was that she was always listening
And she knew
That they
Were wrong.

She was struck with sadness when the plane landed
And she found herself standing on the same planet she had left,
She cried for days
That was her first taste
Of true disappointment.

“What is reality?” She would ask her mother
Every night before bed.
“Reality is what you know.
Nothing is as it seems though, baby.
Sweet dreams.” Her mother would say,
As she turned out the light and gently shut the door.

That was her first taste
Of self awareness.

From then on she knew
That she would never again rely
On other people to give her what she needed -
Answers, affection, safety, love.

From then on she knew
That she would always  be dependant on
Everyone she did not know,
Everything she could not touch,
And every place she could not be.

That was the beginning
Of when she split herself in
Two
And it all began
With almost landing on the moon.

I don’t have the energy
to convince people I’m not
worth leaving anymore. I used to,
I used to fight for everything I thought I was worth to the point
of being paralyzed by my own
pointless loyalty. But after so many
failed attempts at holding on to
friendships that had become one sided
I have come to the conclusion that
it’s just like sand slipping through
fingers. A futile endeavour that will
only leave you crippled with the
weight of knowing that you can’t
undo what’s already been done. You
can’t save what cannot be saved.
No matter who it is, no matter who
I wish it wasn’t, I have watched many people come and go
as they please in and out of my
life and in the end they always leave.
I think it’s a miracle if you can find
one person who does not leave you.
One person who you grow to love
and trust, who waters you until
you have blossomed into the most
beautiful and potent flower in all
of existence. One person
who does not save you
but helps you save
yourself. I have. And that
is the greatest gift of all.
Leave, leave, leave. Go ahead.
They all do.
And it’s alright. Because I found an
angel that will always be right
beside me even if right beside me
is a thousand miles
away.

Someone I once loved
Ran his finger across my chest and traced
The outline of my moles and said
"They look like an anchor! When you connect the dots, they are the shape
Of an anchor! You are an anchor. It all makes sense now.
You are going to be okay."

At the time it was like some big epiphany for him,
Like he was telling me something about myself
That I never knew when really, I always knew
It was just
Something I didn't want
To admit. It is something
I have been running away from for a long time now, thinking
I could be an anchor for someone else
Because then THEY could be my problem, my project,
My ocean
So then that way I could leave myself, fallen by the wayside
To wither away, slowly, subtly,
Secretly disappearing.

I am attracted to people who are made of glass,
People who shatter easily, who shatter willingly,
Who are reckless and brilliant, beautiful and dangerous
People who I unconsciously think
I can save.

I can only save myself.
I can only be my own anchor.

I am nowhere near strong enough
To be with someone again
I am so terribly fragile, I break my own heart
So easily. Too willingly.
All I want is to keep realizing things like this,
To admit my mistakes and learn from them, not
Repeat them.
To hold on to the people who keep me on the ground,
The people who actually love me, who don't put me on
Some pedestal where I am liable
To float away.

Because if I'm not careful and let myself
Float away again,
I
may
never
come
back.

you made me so sick
you made me so sick i made myself sick
with the intention of ending up in the hospital
or better yet, dead
all in hopes that i could give you a taste
of your own medicine:
layers and layers and layers of pain.

but that was one long drawn out evil endeavour
and i'm glad i didn't succeed
because life shouldn't be spent with the intention
of trying to die
just to prove something to someone else
because no matter how much death
is glamorized in this ******* society
there is nothing glamorous
about it
and in the end you will prove
nothing

there is nothing glamorous about
sticking your head in an oven
or drinking yourself into a stupor every single night
only to forget what you did or said or felt the next morning
there is nothing glamorous about
sticking your fingers down your throat
or carving poetic words into your inner thigh
just so you can feel or un-feel something

trying to die
does not make you
a tortured artist
it makes you
a miserable soul

yes, pain is useful
to create
without it i probably would not be writing this
but it does not define you
**** them all
**** society
stop trying to die to prove yourself to someone
dying proves nothing

take a hammer to the mirror
it's only a piece of glass
run into an open field and scream your lungs out
cry all of your fears out of your system like you did when you were five years old
stop being ashamed for feeling things
write down what kind of person you were this time last year
then next to it,
write down what kind of person you are right now
look at how far you've come
look at how far you've yet to go
be proud of yourself
think of the people who have left you
think of how good it will feel when you forgive them
think of someone who has left their footprint on your heart
now go tell them you love them
now leave your footprint on someone else's heart
make sure you tell them you love them

you matter
you matter
you matter
you matter
i swear to God i'm not joking
i don't ******* care if you don't believe me
and it isn't going to be easy
be terrified.
be brave.

you matter
you matter
you matter

**you matter.

self-love is a murky swamp amid a stranded fog;

my mother’s failures are as abundant as her rock collection,
which always made me wonder why we didn’t live someplace
closer to the sea.
like a baby bird with its mouth wide open,
i waited for guidance until the ache of my jaw became unbearable,
so i jumped out of
the nest on impulse
and hit the pavement, hard.
every ***** was donated to the bellies of the magpies,
every thought stolen by the worms.
some strands of hair evaporated into the sky,
while others were used as material for future nests.
any left over flesh was given to the wolves,
for they recognized my inexhaustible spirit.
my eyes, hungry for survival,
dug tiny holes for themselves, and went to sleep.
by the time spring came around they starting sprouting
forget-me knots that were picked and placed
in a small bouquet, purchased by a lady
that gave the bouquet to her daughter
on the day she learned how to mother herself,
with a note attached that said:
“please forgive me.”

Being an artist is hard. Especially when you write songs about love and love unrequited and addiction and death and wanting to die and wishing you were loved by the people who put their addictions before you and pain and self harm and hope and disappointment and everything that has made me insane.

The only thing I can do to make myself feel less insane is to write about it.

But as soon as you create something, it’s like “Well what the **** do I do now?”

Normal people would get a grant, make a record, go on tour.

Well guess what? I’m not a ******* normal person.

I have to deal with voices in my head 24/7 telling me I’m a failure, I’m a waste of space, that nobody cares about what I sing or do or make, that I would be doing myself a favour if I just ******* died already.

I have to deal with memories from my ****** up childhood that haunt me every day because my parents were too busy being addicted to alcohol and drugs to actually parent me.

Well guess what? I know that was unfair and sad etc, etc. I don’t want your pity. I know what my mind tells me are straight up lies. Depression is a mental illness and it doesn’t just go away because you’re intelligent enough to know that what your mind is telling you is not true.

But it’s the hardest thing anyone will ever have to live with and it makes it ten times more difficult to muster up enough confidence & self esteem to pursue being a musician, or writer or artist of any kind. Because being alone can be dangerous. I often feel so misunderstood and misheard by other people that I choose to be alone to do both them and myself a favour.

But that’s also *******. Because when you create something, no matter if it’s good or bad, you are giving something to the world that has never existed before.

Do you know how ******* beautiful that is?

What people don’t realize about artists is that the majority of them already are extremely  insecure and feel like failures and ****-ups.

The last thing I need from someone is for them to say:

“Oh, you have over 100 songs, how come you haven’t put out a record yet?”

“Here comes the girl who’s been saying the same thing for the past two years - that she’s ‘working on it.’”

Well you know what? I AM working on it. I don’t have to ******* defend myself to other people when they criticize me by saying things like this. You don’t have to sit hear and listen to me sing. No one is making you stay. They have no idea what I’ve been through, how I’ve changed, how I’m trying to heal, how healing does not come naturally to me. I was never taught how to heal. I was never taught how to live. And what I’m learning is that it is never too late to start trying.

I realize I’m getting older and time is passing but for someone to make some snide remark by commenting on how I seem like a failure is unacceptable, especially when I feel like one already.

My songs are a gift. I know that. I have given them away for free, to many people who, now that I think back on it, never even deserved to have them. Whether they’re jealous or mad or sad or whatever themselves, they don’t ******* need to put their insecurities on me when I clearly have enough of my own to begin with. We’re all human, how about we have some ******* compassion for each other?

There are a lot of things I’m not proud of. I have made many mistakes. I have wanted to die many times, and struggle with finding a reason to keep living daily. But music has always been the thing that has kept me alive. Music is what flows through my veins, and whether or not I “make a record” in the timeframe that people expect me to has nothing to do with what really matters.

Music has no timeframe.

Music has no jealousy or anger or resentment or insecurities.

Music is what saves lives, and I’ve been lucky enough to have the gift of making it and giving it to people in hopes that I can help them in some way. That’s what artists are made to do, help, make life more bearable, to transcend the pain of a ****** up life into a song that you can listen to and say: “****, this song sums it up, man!”

It’s a gift.

It doesn’t belong to you. It doesn’t even belong to me.

So just eat some humble pie and get over yourself for one ******* minute because your criticism doesn’t change the ******* facts and I will be going at my own pace whether you like it or not, thank you very much.

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.

it was a painful transition,
the adjustment
of not having you in my life
anymore
thinking our story was over
not aware that it was
to be continued
I was prepared for twenty years or more
of silence
and now that you’re back
and trying again
I do admit
that I am still
expecting the worst
because I know all too well
how fast things can change
I’m expecting you
to leave again
I don’t know any other
way to feel safe.
I love you
and even though needing you
is purely unavoidable,
I don’t know if I will ever
stop trying
to avoid it.

this year*:

the one person i thought was my soulmate left my life without so much as one word

i fell out of love with the first girl i fell in love with

i was reunited with someone i hoped would be my new mother

i was repeatedly disappointed

i met the most amazing friend i only ever imagined having

i quit my job

i got a new job

i fell in love with a pathological liar

i went to my grandfather's funeral

i was lied to by the pathological liar (surprise!)

i was there for her when she went to detox

i was there for her when she relapsed

i had a rather epiphanic moment where i was brought to inexplicable sobs and repeated screams  on my knees saying "help me" in desperate hopes of being heard by some unknowable God

i quit the new job and got hired back at the old one

i lost trust in all humans, including myself

i moved in with my dad

i got to know the depths of fragility

i was manipulated and in turn, i manipulated

i had random panic attacks

i met Regina Spektor

i wrote poems

i wrote songs

i painted

i read books

i drank a lot of coffee

i smoked many cigarettes

i laughed less

i cried less

i felt less

i denied anti-depressants

i worked on letting go of unhealthy persons, including my mother

which lead to learning the repetitive lesson that overnight success does not exist

i booked a flight to Mississippi

i learned how to be alone without being lonely

i became even more infatuated with the moon

i wanted to die,

i'm still alive.

i made mistakes,

i learned from them.

this year has been a whirlwind, a teenage drama gone half right topped with a questionable ending

2013, here i come.

sitting before the curtain of my heart,
i feel the ripples of what some might call fear
for what is about to unveil.
behind me sits an audience that can only  be described
as a sea of songs long since embedded in my brain,
waves of past lovers and lies and the
silhouette of a solitary sickness.
then suddenly, the lights go dim
and i am overcome by the previews
of the present moment.
caught between the sea behind me
and the curtain in front of me,
is all that i am
all that i love
and all that i have yet
to be.

being a parent
is probably the most selfless act imaginable
there are a lot of ****** parents
who decide to check out early
mothers who play house
and stay home and cook and clean and make
lunches for their kids like a good little housewife
pretending to be happy
pretending their marriage is
functional
until all the pretending starts to be too much
and the bottom falls through

then divorce
then choosing
then triangulation
then "please don't tell your dad" because they choose
the lifestyle of a good liar
over one of a good parent

if i was an only child perhaps it wouldn't be
so hard
but there's still
karate lessons,
life lessons and growing pains
and when one parent takes on the job of
two parents and doesn't run away
from that struggle, from that truth
well that is the most selfless thing there is

i hear young people say
"i don't ever want children. I hate children."
and I laugh because sometimes
**** happens
and you have to make a choice
but there are a lot of ****** parents
who had ****** parents
and the legacy continues

but perhaps accidents like that
are a blessing in disguise
if you choose to put yourself aside for one minute
to be selfless enough
to change
for the sake of the being you chose to
bring into this frightening world.

it's really cool
when you come full circle
in one sitting,
like,
sad to depressed to suicidal to scared to lonely to bored
to hopeful to silly to laughing to crying to laughing again
and have someone see
every single part of you,
and have them
stay
and it's like
****, i've finally found a soul
i can tell anything to
and they won't be scared away.

and it's like
oh,
THIS is what love is.
finally finally finally!

and it's like,
yes. miracles do happen.

y'know?

and I can’t help but
think of you every time I hear
the sound of Julian Casablancas’s
voice
and I can’t help it
I will never be able to listen to
the Strokes without
remembering why i loved you
and I can’t help it
there isn’t a single September I’ve lived through without
being reminded of the first time
we fell in love
and it’s quite funny actually
that even after all this time
you’re still my favourite muse
and it’s quite remarkable actually
that even after how much you
hurt me
I could never ever
not love you
you never did realize
how lucky you were,
did you?
or perhaps I’m asking myself
that same question
either way,
you’re still
there
in those songs
in those places
and it will always be
the most bittersweet
of returns.

today i learned that your favourite
colour is red.
(i also happened to be wearing it.)
today i learned that everything i’ve ever wanted to happen
will eventually happen,
but not in the ways i imagined they would.
today i learned that i can love you from a distance,
that i can say it with my eyes and maybe you will
hear me.
(or maybe you won’t but
either way i’m going to keep looking at you.)
today i learned that you care about me because
you told me to put on my scarf so that i wouldn't get cold.
today i learned that love is a language all on its own,
full
of laughter and long embraces and jokes and
spur of the moment decisions and unrequited heartache
and other things
i cannot find words for.
today i learned that instead of being a fool for
not being able to control my heart i might in fact
just be human.
today i learned that every solid foundation was once
a battleground.
today i learned that i could one day maybe trust again but
i am still not ready yet.
today i learned that black friday
is now a thing in Canada.
today i don’t feel so afraid.
today my mother let me read her journal from 1988
(when she was the age that i am right now)
and i learned that i am more like her than i ever
thought i was,
i learned that that might be more of a blessing
than a curse.
today i learned how to use my mind as a camera, that it might
be okay to let so many precious moments remain
undeveloped.
today i learned that i cannot force you to be enamoured with me.
today i learned that i might just have to settle on the fact that my inability to express myself with words has no bearing on how nervous i get when i am around you.
today i learned that there is so much love everywhere.
today i learned that everyone is stunning.
today i learned that there is no such thing as having too big
of a heart.

it really is a shame
that you're choosing a life of
secrets and drugs and alcohol and *** and partying
and black nail polish and black eyeliner and black leather jackets
and ego and emptiness and anxiety and insomnia
over
a life
of
three children who are learning how to need you
less and less as the days pass
one by one by one by one
it really is a shame that you're choosing that life over
one
of
potential and talent and adventure and music and laughter
and a daughter who is wondering
why she still has so much love left in her heart for you and
where to put it when you're
vanishing into nothingness,
blackness,
right before her eyes,
it scares her.

where do i put all this love when the person who it's meant for
is going
going
gone?

but i'm still here, and i guess
you are not but
i am still here
i am what i started with
and i am what i end with

it really is a shame, though
that you are letting all this precious love go to
waste.

and so we meet again, raven soul,
before i entered the catacomb i was standing at the
edge
peering at the depths beneath it
when sudden ebony clouds floated over me
and attached a hook
into both of my shoulder blades carrying me
beyond the edge i was standing on,
higher than the summit of where
you once sung a song about the idea of being
happy. all of this was done
in silence for the noise resided
on the inside of my skull wanting to escape
but i could not
speak.
then there you were - with your raven hair covering
half of your face,
snakes
dripping down your eyelids, your tears were the colour
of a mermaids tail in lake water and you told me
without telling me
that this would be the last time
that it's over now
that i should be smiling because most people
don't know when
enough is enough and so they keep going
but everything stopped and so
i knew then it was time.
what i did not know was how long
you would keep me there - suspended in the sky
untangling the knots in your tears,
being swallowed by something intangible
that was promising eternal
wholeness.

i noticed everything.
i noticed the way you texted me multiple times
after we first met, asking to hang out
one day earlier than the day of our date apologizing
for your impatience.
i noticed the way you called me beautiful and were quick
to recite a poem when i asked you to,
but you didn't know i only asked you to
to fill in the space where i did not know how
to speak.
seduction is boring when it's easy
or perhaps most boys are easy
but either way, i didn't want you to attack my mouth
as soon as i sat on your couch.
i didn't want you to walk me to the bus stop
and i didn't want to always be holding
your hand just because i was walking beside you.
i noticed everything.
i noticed the way you rambled on and on
about your wealthy parents who are still
happily married, about your younger sister
who you don't get along with, and about the
extraordinary places you had been to
throughout your life.
i noticed the way you didn't listen when i told you
that i write poetry every day
and i noticed the way you didn't ask me once
if you could read it.
i noticed the way you tried to pay for the bill
until i handed you 40$ because you weren't expecting
it to be that expensive, i noticed the way you kept saying
"i wish you could stay longer" every time i mentioned
that i had to go home soon.
i noticed the way you talked about yourself
and i noticed the way you looked at me
like i was the most beautiful thing you had ever seen.
but i'm not and i never will be, and i was flattered
but i'm not yours and i don't want
to talk to you anymore and that probably makes me out
to be a ***** but i don't really care because
i'd rather be laying in the sun reading a book about Beethoven
than laying in your arms noticing the various ways in which
i feel like a bruise on a very ripe banana.

most days i can't handle how you react
to the truth which has unfortunately been the cause
of us having no relationship.
because you live a life that's a big fat lie and i refuse
to be a part of it anymore which is sad because
it has consumed you.

some days i get bored though and i just spew
everything that's true into one text message,
(because that's your primary form of communication now),
and hit "send" without even thinking
just to stir things up a bit.

it's not strength, it's pure boredom.
until you respond with flat-out hatred,
blaming me for everything
to remind me of how weak
i truly am and that
that boredom can be a very dangerous thing indeed.

I want to give you all of the good parts of me,
The ones you deserve
The parts that are whole on their own, the silent parts
The ones that fall asleep with ease
The parts that have never rejected
Goodness or entertained the notion
Of an early death.
I feel crazy most days, I wake up and I'm someone
And by the time I get to work I am someone else entirely
Some days I get home and snap at my little brothers
Some days I get home and I'm giggly and jumpy and full of life
Some days I cannot focus on anything else
But my pain, my suffering, my illness
Some days I am nothing but completely
Consumed.
You do not deserve to have the bad parts of me,
But if you love me,
Then won't you love them too?
So when you ask me who I am
I will only tell you the truth of who I am
At that exact moment
But be aware, that person will have bolted
Fled into another life
And be replaced
By another person entirely by the time
You've hung up the phone and said, i love you, i will see you
Later. But who exactly will you be seeing later?
So take the good parts, while they're still here
Because by tomorrow I may have sinned
I may have taken all the goodness out of my chest
And burned it with your heart.
This has happened before and if it happens again, I'm sorry in advance
I just don't know how to make all of the
Flying particles of myself
Stand still.
How to make the goodness and the badness fit together to make
Something that might have the potential to be
Everlastingly beautiful.

i look for you
in the faces of strangers
they have your eyes,
eager and sad,
the eyes of instability,
the same brown as an old bruise.

i often wonder why i didn't
inherit your eyes.
perhaps it's a metaphor for all the differences between us?
there must be a reason
more significant than the obvious.

it's easier in the daytime,
when i don't have to think of you.
when there is enough light to keep me concentrated
on the endless distractions
that keep me smiling,
for there is always something to
smile about.

but nighttime is a different universe,
the moon, a lonely thumbnail.
it reminds me of how you used to chew your cuticles
and place them neatly in a little white pile
while we would watch an endless stream
of ****** infomercials.

sometimes you don't realize how much you were in love
with someone's naked habits
until they're gone.

when i was sick,
you would always make sure the washcloth on my forehead
stayed warm.

i miss that.

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

sometimes I throw pennies
in the space where you used
to fill my heart
I listen to its hollow echo
the wish is always the same

all this time and I still don't know
why I didn't let you love me
perhaps it was because
we were partners in creativity
and I am by nature a restrictive
girl always cutting things off
so that they don't ruin each other
I always do this as if to save myself
just in case I find something
better
(this is called fear)

because too many things have bled together
inside and outside
of me
like permanent watercolours on a tablecloth,
and I've learned to stop the painting
from being finished before
I ruin everything again
stains like this have been stuck
inside of me
ever  since the moment I realized
you weren't coming back
to try and love me again

all this time and I still don't know
why I didn't let you love me
tonight I cast another penny
in the space where you used to fill my heart
now I know I was afraid of you
now I know that fear has been living inside of me
ever since the moment I realized
you weren't coming back
to try again

and that moment
is right
now.

the wish is always the same.

I speak to you
Through poems I didn't write,
Silence that screams the outcome
Of our lack of action,
And love like a language
You will never understand.

I spent four years of my life
Laughing, crying, loving, learning, smiling, singing, breathing
With you
You were my first love,
My best friend,
My soulmate.

Then I fell apart and you left my life
Without saying goodbye,
You got someone else to say goodbye to me for you
At the time, I blamed myself
Because I knew my energy was toxic and destructive and dark and terrible
And everyone knows it's hard to be around someone
like that,
someone who begins to devote their life to dying.

A year went by
We didn't laugh cry love learn smile sing or breathe
Together at all
All we shared was silence.
You changed your name, you moved away, stopped talking to your family,
And declared yourself enlightened.

Yes, I did play the victim for a while.
I used losing you as fuel for my self destruction
I felt worthless, alone, used, manipulated
I felt like a discarded piece of toilet paper to be quite frank.
I looked for you in other lovers, but nothing came close
To the love we had.

A year and three weeks later,
You message me and say
Hi, come over, I just want to love you.

Why?
Why now?
If you didn't want me at my worst then you sure as hell don't deserve me at my best.
You don't even ******* know me
And I sure as hell don't know you.

For once in my life you are telling me to jump
And I am not saying "how high?"
I'm saying take a hike, pal
I have something you can't touch.

You're too late.

I have begun my waiting
for you to die. Should this make me terrible,
i am not sorry. No,
not yet,
i am not sorry nor
do i feel the need to be.

You stripped me
bare
shoulders, bones and all,
my quest to save you has ceased now
that i am
no more
than
a droplet of rain on your windshield.

You can't feel
me
you can't see
me
you can try to touch
me
from the inside but i will always be
looking at you from the outside
in just
like i've always been with that
precious bullet proof glass
between us.

Yes,
i have begun my waiting for you to die.

Not having anyone to fix or save or be distracted by is turning me into one vulnerable and terrified human being.

2. I’m surrounded by love everyday and it makes me realize that having romantic love with someone is not the be-all and end-all of life.

3. Sleeping alone does not make me a failure.

4. There is a huge difference between being alone and being lonely.

5. A solid friend and a hearty laugh is better than any one night stand or three month fling.

6. I am still terrified of being abandoned and do not want to add on to the list of potential abandoners at the moment.

7. What even is love?

8. I tend to attract addicts, of all kinds, and by staying away from them I sometimes wonder if I will ever meet someone who will want to love me for who I am and not the false sense of security and comfort I can so easily bring them.

9. I tend to be attracted to addicts, of all kinds, and by staying away from them I am learning how to make myself feel secure and comforted.

10. Manipulation can be contagious. I don’t want to go there again.

11. Trust is something I look back on fondly but is no longer something I have inside my heart to give to the next person who decides to love me. I’m working on it. I think this one will take a long time still.

12. Finding and keeping a consistent friend is making me want to find and keep myself.

13. I am exhausted.

14. Commitment makes me cringe.

15. Marriage is a lovely thought but would be a pointless reality.

16. I have a lot of healing to do.

17. Finding pleasure in life does not have anything to do with another person’s body.

18. *** is not a joke and should not be treated as such.

19. Neither should your body.

20. Forgiveness is a foreign land I have always dreamed of visiting.

21. It is entirely possible to be young and not reckless.

22. We are not invincible.

23. It’s time to slow down.

24. No amount of coffee, crying, sleep, wine, or romance will cure me of the unrelenting emptiness.

25. Nobody taught me that choosing to be alone is actually wise.

26. I am changing.

they placed ten pin bowling *****
into the backpacks of the ballerinas,
strapped them on their backs,
and made them dance,
lightly on wet cement
and if they made a single mark
then they were  sentenced
to choose between
a thousand lovers without a single
love
or a thousand loves without a single
lover
and if any of them could not choose
then they
were buried alive
underneath a new round
of wet cement
for the next group
of uncertain ballerinas
to dance upon,
lightly.

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

they say write what you know
so here it goes -

I know
that i was dying and you left and saying goodbye didn't even come out of your own mouth
I know
i quit a lot of things that day including wanting to live
I know
that if i regained the will to live after that then i can regain the will for anything
I know
that i used my body as a cutting board for your opinions
I know
that you think i gave you my worst and that's why you left
I also know
that if you couldn't handle my worst you can't come back saying sorry and expect me
to give you my best
I know
that i am proud of who i am
I know
that my heart may not be bullet proof but it is fool proof and that makes all the difference
I know
that you are a fool
I know
that losing me was your loss, and it's time
to put on your big boy boxers and deal with the remnants
of a deformed heart and a brainwashed mind
I know
that i did not feel safe as a child or as an adolescent
but that does not mean that i have to feel that way now
I know
that you made me feel judged and unsafe and unloved
and used and worthless
I know
that i don't need you now to feel okay
I know
that forgiving is not forgetting
I know
that i don't forget
I know
that if someone doesn't love you enough to stay with you
then they don't deserve you in the first place
I know
that silence is louder than *******
but that doesn't stop me from writing this anyway
I know that
i'm stronger than your fickle words
and the lack of character and compassion
they reflect.

one good thing will happen
to counteract the bad,
bringing me back down to earth,
dissolving each dream that i’ve had.
expect the worst, always hope for the best
set yourself up for a long way down
to fall until you can finally rest.
i can’t have everything, everyone knows nobody can
i feel like an ostrich
hiding his heavy head in the sand.
maybe disappointment and happiness
are in fact, closely linked.
maybe what i need is beyond what i want
or feel or say or think.

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.

divorce
is like sitting in a waiting room for 3 years
with tape placed over your eyes and mouth
so all you can do
is listen to
the war wondering
what will happen who will win and when
you can start to feel something again.

i’ve gotten so used to thinking i don’t have a choice and just going

with what my self destructive mind tells me to do

that once i actually just notice my options

and evaluate them, simply

no strings attached

and make a choice to do the opposite of what i usually do

i feel so empowered and happy and hopeful and

in control, in the good sense

and it’s like

thank god

i’m alive

to know what this feels like.

*freedom

i wish i could invite you
to my friends show tonight
i wish i could introduce you to everyone who has ever made me feel
worthwhile
and have you say,
"I'm so happy you have found people who love you the way I never could,
sweetheart."
and then watch the smile dissolve
from your face.

i spent last night inside of
an emergency room
they took my blood and an X-Ray
of my chest
i let them see all of my insides
which was an intimate thing to do
they wanted to make sure that my insides
weren’t completely shattered.
they told me the wall of my heart
was inflamed but i didn’t know
if they meant the wall i had built around it
or the wall other people had built around it.
the inflammation
was supposed to explain the reasons behind why
i felt like someone had stuck a knife into
the left side of my back, twisted it
and left it there, for the show must go on. it was supposed to explain
why i felt like my heart was going to stop beating
at any second because every beat
was an excruciating struggle. it wasn’t supposed to explain
how much i still miss you or need you,
it wasn’t supposed to explain the way i broke my own heart
when i sent that letter telling you why
you were evicted, why there is no room
left for you now. my heart is too full.
it wasn’t supposed to explain how afraid i have become
when it comes to being loved.
they gave me anti-inflammatory pills
and by 5am, i was safe at home. but i can’t help but wish
for emergency rooms made for shattered hearts and broken minds,
hearts that ache with yearning and confusion,
hearts that forget how to beat but never forget
how to love.
i wish i could go to an emergency room
like that.
i think my heart was trying to warn me
to be more careful with it because
it’s the only rhythm that taught me
how to dance.
keep dancing, it says,
*the show must go on.

sometimes i watch
eternal sunshine of the spotless mind
over and over again
on the days when missing you
hits me right in the face and makes me want
to call you, see you, hug you
to replenish the memories i have of you.
it makes me wonder if having you
erased from my mind would make this
whole thing easier, this new
chapter of my life.
the letting go, the detaching.
getting into the habit of walking by flowers
and not plucking their petals to see
if you still love me or not.
the realizing that it doesn't matter if you still
love me or not,
but being frustrated with the not knowing
anyway.
i don't want to erase you from my mind
out of hate or spite or resentment.
i want to erase you because the desire to go back
and do things over again is stronger
than the desire to accept things for how they turned out
and move on.
i don't know if it's missing you
or missing the person i was when i was with you
that is driving me crazy.
i think it's a little of both but mainly just the fact
that i want to tell you i'm sorry
without it seeming useless.
i feel you in my heart still and i guess i just want
you to know that.
but i also want to forget that because it hurts.
so i watch
eternal sunshine of the spotless mind
on repeat
to forget about it all,
if only for a little while.
why is everything always so intangible and bittersweet?

the worst things will happen
and the best things will happen
both at the same time
as much as this will baffle and
completely confuse you,
it’s up to you to decide
between the devastating sadness
or the overwhelming happiness.
and on the days where you can’t choose,
it’s okay to ricochet
between both.