do you remember when we went to the mountains?
yeah, it was an awful trip, and nothing went right
at the end, when it was over, do you remember?
we were packing up our desert igloo to leave it all behind us
you were coordinating our friends loading the truck
it was so stressful, and everyone was tired and cranky
the trip did not go how anyone wanted

I was getting more and more frustrated and you could tell
you came over and asked me what I needed
this is where it gets good, do you remember?
I looked up at you and I could not find the words
I was so overwhelmed; I did not know what I needed
so, you just hugged me
it was exactly what I needed
perfect, safe, home

I looked up to thank you and then
I saw you. for the first time in a while, I saw you.
did you feel the change? do you remember?

You sir, are the apple of my eye.
You are the stitches holding my wound together.
You are the glue holding the pages to my spine.
You make me whole.
You are yes ma'am polite and southern pretty.
Rough hands and a soft smile
You make me swoon.
You are are all smiles and good graces
until the whiskey makes you mean.
Then you are fire
Eyes blazing to hot to touch
You break my bones like shattered glass
You paint my skin like the sun setting on a murky lake
You sing a sad sad song and I want to make you okay
You swing like you are hitting a fast pitch ball
lights out

I HATE
that I require such validation in all areas of my life.  Even poetry, that which is supposed to be my safe space, my outlet, never feels good enough. Insufficient writting, insufficient funds, insufficient happiness. Its all so stuffy and weird. Stiff and dry. Nothing is as it should be.
It's all just so hard.
I HATE
that if I don't get the attention the little dark space inside of me constantly yearns for. I just hide in my car and cry.  Tears that are the end of the world.  shaking my entire being.  Shaking my core.  My bones rattle and my teeth grind.  I'm screaming and screaming.
It's all just so hard.
I HATE
that I never feel good enough being just average. I always have to be the best or I might as well be the worst.  If I am not #1 I don't exist.
i hate that it is all just...so...hard.

s.s

Hi.  Hello.
It’s been awhile, I hope you are because I am.
Well, mostly.  
I found the one who makes me laugh makes me smile
Staves of the darkness so for just a little while
I forget.
I forget that a piece of me is broken, missing.
A piece of me is gone and when I go to give it to the one who makes me feel okay
Everything is not okay I scream and fight and push away
And he’s just so confused.
Things were good we worked through this there hasn’t been a meltdown in oh so many months
He talks he soothes does everything I told him to do but still I’m fighting I’m crying
I’m not there anymore
I’m in another place another time where there were no smiles only tears and those tread are pouring out now as I fight within my self to get back to the place where things are fine and I’m surrounded by love. And then
It’s over.
I’m back he’s holding me and everything is grand
But even now he hesitates to hold my hand afraid
To hurt me
To send me into a spiral that maybe this time I won’t be able to pull myself out of.
And even though I thought I had forgiven you
That I was past it I had regained what you took.
I was wrong and I can’t forgive you
Not yet.

today, i woke up and the sun was shining
the birds are singing
people are laughing
but i can't enjoy it.

there is this feeling that is creeping from my toes as the light floods my room.
i feel worthless.
i feel exhausted.
there is no more fight left in me

i wake up like this most days now
but it's okay
even on these days where everything is unbearable and my skin is on fire
i know it can't last forever

today, i want to die
but i won't
because there's a chance that tomorrow i'll want to live.

Sometimes I just feel like I'm crazy.  I get these thoughts that come through my head that feel alien, foreign.  They don't come from the me I want to be they come from the me that I'm constantly running from.  The me that hides behind the sweet smile and kind gestures.  This me is not pretty, she is not smart, she is not kind.  This me is a monster, who wants nothing more than carnage.  Nothing can stay perfect too long, and I am spiraling into the me that I don't want to be.
Happy New Year,

From the old me.
s.s.