im not this little girl that's afraid of the world.
im not afraid of the dark
or my father
or the end of days.

im not afraid i'll regret the things i didnt say
or do.
or the places i didnt go.

im not afraid of anything.
.
.
.
except you.

Hey, so I felt like writing.
But I didn’t know what to write.
So I’m here.
Talking to myself.
I’m eating pizza pockets in bed.
I’m listening to the **.
I’m cold.
I’ve had a glass of summer red and it’s too early to sleep.
I’m thinking about Ben.
I’m thinking about my dad.
I’m thinking about where I’ll be in a month or two from now.

It’s hard to wake up some days.
Because I think this is as good as I’m going to get.
Because I’m not so good at this.
Any of it.
I’ve only just mastered breathing.
But functioning?
Sustaining healthy relationships?
I can’t even win the approval of the person that’s sole job is to love me whether I deserve it or not.
My dad has given me the cold shoulder before.
But this feels heavier.
And I can’t help but to think that perhaps I deserve it.
I’m not always very nice.
In fact I think sometimes I like the idea of people thinking I’m a complete *****.
If I was a therapist I’d probably say something like: “It’s a defense mechanism.”
Yeah. Maybe.
Maybe I’m actually a really nice and I like being in the company of others.
Maybe.
Maybe I’ll find success in my future career.
Maybe I’ll live in a nice house
and I won’t **** up my children’s lives because I never had a proper parental figure.
Maybe I can give them the stability I’ve craved my whole life.
In a perfect world.
But the world is infamous for its lack of perfection.

What I hope to accomplish through my writing is complete honesty.
If nothing else, I want to be able to be honest with myself.
The one place I can do that is my writing.
Honesty comes easy on paper.
It’s softer. Gentler.
But words spoken always seem too harsh, and too loud.
I don’t know much about anything, but there are some things I do know.
I know that I want to give and receive love.
I know that there are parts of myself that I like to pretend don’t exist.
I know that I am scared of just about everything. But…

I think I will be okay despite the odds.
But I’m not sure okay is good enough.

A night is only as meaningful
as the stars which surround the moon
in a room full of beating hearts -
isn't it funny how just one rhythm
can sync with you so completely?
"She just gets me"
How every once in a while
you see that face,
a customer at work, a stranger passing by,
which lets you know
that things could be better tomorrow
that makes today not such a lost cause
They call it love at first sight
but I think it's more like
we are all pieces of the great cosmic jigsaw puzzle
wandering around - lost
looking for the people
which bring us closer
to being whole

The summer of sadness is over,
The leaves have changed and part.
The winter freeze blows colder,
But the fire burns my heart.

So tell me where.
But where to start?

The small town symptoms crowd me
They try to push me down
But I know of a secret,
The light to lead me out.

So tell me where,
But where and how?

The waves of doubt are over
The tides now remain calm
The water will run bolder
And I'm ready to move on
My summer of sadness has ended,
My leaves have changed and gone.
The winter; I've befriended,
And the fire keeps me strong.

Unreal thoughts of what it meant to be beautiful.
Society taught her that she wasnt enough.
She felt as if she could never feel beautiful,
For they were all diamonds,
And she was the rough.

I learned a lot from him at three in the morning, but the most important lesson was that
"You gotta get through it."
It's gonna ****,
But it's not forever.
You might hate it,
But "you gotta get through it."
The more you fight it,
The longer it'll feel,
So just go with it for a while.

When you get out,
Put it behind you

don't look back

"And that's when your life truely begins."

Sometimes I would go out to my grandma's
and bring her lunch.
She didn't like cooking for just one.
We'd eat hoagies from Vito's market,
bag of Lay's chips between the two of us,
and sweet tea she had in her fridge
using only the plastic cups
because we couldn't have glass around the pool.

She'd point to necklaces and cashmere sweaters
from the new JCrew catalog,
dog earring all the pages she loved
her tan hands steady on the corners
with several silver rings on her fingers,
big diamond on the left one.

I hated to leave her with only the sound
of the Pennsylvania state flag flapping
against the pole,
or her neighbor's lawn being mowed.
But she smiled something huge when I waved goodbye
from the sidewalk
slowly closing the catalog,
a sympathy wind chime scoring her steps,
walking back inside
to no one sitting in the arm chair
and the TV on mute.