I don't want to believe anything truly dies. The things we love, the people we love...we carry them with us regardless of how they wither  away and leave us. Seasons pass and the petals on flowers shrivel up, the colors aren't as bright as they once were but I've thought in this state, flowers tell the most.

I have two flowers that I keep in a glass jar next to my bed. While their states of these two flowers may them alike, the stories they tell are different. The first was given to me by a boy I swear I wanted to love. I'm wondering if I'll ever reach a moment where the timing is "right." I hadn't seen him in more than a year and in a way, this was us meeting for the first time again. I'm easily pleased and this single flower lit my face up the same way a whole bouquet would. Holding on to this single flower from months ago may seem strange but to me, it represents the warmth and comfort a single person can provide you with. The reality is things don't always turn out the way you wish for them for them too...but I was thankful to have crossed paths with you. I have no problem taking a different turn on my journey if it means meeting you at the end of the road. The light you bring to my being will always shine.

There were bundles of roses placed on my grandfather's casket the day of his burial. I remember this day vividly and despite the daggers I feel in my chest when I think about it, I want to remember it forever. I've been able to come to terms with the death of my grandfather since March but the thing with grief is one moment it feels light like a feather and the next you feel yourself being suffocated by the weight of it. This single rose represents my sadness, my shaky knees and sweaty palms that day, the tears that have rolled down my face over again, and most of all, the last time I saw his face and held his hand. Holding the flower brings me back to that day. I still feel the pain so intensely but I am now able to smile, too. It's hard when the ones we love leave us. It doesn't feel fair but I'm realizing their presence will always linger. They're here and there with us, we just don't realize it.  Being without the physical presence hurts but a spiritual presence can help our grief to feel a little less heavy.

To you,  withered flowers may seem like something you'd throw in the trash and a thing to let go of but I hold on to them for the stories they tell, the emotions they keep within them. Life is full of metaphors and dying flowers are another one of those. I am reminded of the ways in which things and people don't actually die. They live on within us and the universe. Planting another flower may bring some joy to my life but the thorns of  the flower that came before will still hurt me fro time to time. That's the beauty of life and its highs and lows, there will be thorns to cause hurt but there will be new beginnings that will bloom.
It all lives on with those withered flowers that lay in a glass jar by my bed side. I am unable to let go of some things and holding on to them assures me they will not die.

I. Intensity
I feel it. Every step. Every breath. It's there. I feel it. In the air. In the trees.  In the sunshine. In the rain. It's everywhere. It's in my bones. It's in the world. I wasn't prepared for this and I don't know what to do now. My heart feels heavy like the weight of my own personal planet. Loss and grief, they're such big things but they come to you in waves and believe me, when they try to take you back to shore, it hurts like hell and you feel it everywhere. I tried to avoid this, tried to lodge it out of my mind but it simply isn't possible. I think I'm spiraling out of control but the only person who can help me is--myself.
II. Disbelief
Roses on a casket. Touching your  hand for the last time. Tears, lots of them. Legs are shaking. Awkward hugs and handshakes. This isn't actually happening, is it? My world doesn't feel right without you and somehow I'm still expecting to come home to your smiling face. People ask me how I'm doing-- "Oh, I'm fine." I don't have the courage to be honest and tell them I'm actually a string from falling  apart. If I don't want to deal with the weight of my own emotions, why would anyone else?   Following the how I'm doing, I get the "What can I do for you?" "Oh I don't know...make my heart feel like less of a planet and make like a body part." I don't say that, of course.  I thank them for their compassion and say I don't need a thing.  
III. Numb
I put one foot in front of the other. I must find the strength to move forward. It's been two weeks now. After being consumed whole by the weight of my own emotions, I have reached the transition  from "too much" to "almost nothing at all."  At the start of this, I didn't know what to do...and I still don't know what to do. I wish there was some sort of instructional booklet for the grieving process.  Emotions, conversations, embraces-- they all start to blend together even though they're all so different.  I feel distant but not lost. I know where I am. I am still moving but somehow I feel like I'm stationary. How do I move closer? How do I not lose myself completely? Grieving, it takes different shapes. It's like a ghost that is always lingering but only makes its presence known in the worst  of your moments.

You told me you'd love me through the storm but as the sun began to disappear with the clouds, so did you. I never claimed to be a sunny day but I'm not a hurricane either. You made it seem as if I was causing havoc and tearing down houses. There were days where the clouds almost swallowed me whole and the rain couldn't seem to stop but you said it wasn't anything you couldn't handle. I used to be a sunny day with flowers sprouting and birds singing but there are things in life that change us and shape us into something different than what we once were. **** it, I just wanted you to stay. With each strike of lighting, I remember how it felt when you first kissed me. With each clap of thunder, I remember how it felt when you walked away. But don't you worry, I'm going to find someone to love me through the storm. Someone that doesn't run away at the sight of lighting. Someone that holds my hand through the thunder. I used to think I was too much for you but you weren't enough for me. This was never about me. Love isn't supposed to be a sunny day--it's a storm. But if you stick around through the difficult times, you'll get to see the sun peek through the clouds.

I am a fragment
of a broken home,
parents that were
never meant for
one another
but tried their best
to love as if
they were.
They tried to
hold it together
for us kids
but life could never
be what we wanted
it to be.

I am a fragment
of my demons,
the voice
in my head
that tells me
over and over again,
"you're not enough."
There are some days
where that voice
feels greater
than my own
and I almost want to
give in.

I am a fragment
of failed relationships.
You told me I was
"too much."
It felt like daggers
in my chest
and suddenly
I couldn't breathe.
Since then,
I have always felt
I've needed to hold
myself back
and not drown in love.

I am a fragment
of the hell I've
been through.
It wasn't easy
to get to where
I am today.
My journey was
a little ragged,
not a straight shot...
but I'm still
standing tall and
going through
this thing we call
life.

I'm a fragment
of the songs
I've played
over and over again.
Some to block out
the pain,
the tears.
Others to reach
a state of nostalgia,
in an attempt
to go back to moments
I wished to relive.

I am a fragment
of those I surround
myself with.
The constant encouragement,
the kind words,
the shoulders to lean on,
the ability to understand
why I'm like this.
Where would I be
without it?

I am a fragment
of the books I've read.
The lines I underlined
to come back to again,
the characters I saw
a piece of myself in,
the events I read about
that hit home
a little too hard.

I am a fragment
of my flaws,
my mistakes,
my imperfections.
They've eaten me alive
for most of my life
but I am beginning
to come to terms
with them.
I am seeing
the beauty I once
refused to see
within them.

I am a fragment
of my emotions.
They were always
valid and real
despite those who
tried to convince me
otherwise.
The smiles and laughs
were just as significant
as the screams and tears.
I tell myself,
"you were never crazy...
you were just figuring
yourself out."

I am a fragment
of love.
Those that I loved,
those that never
loved me.
The times that
love evoked
happiness,
the times that
love caused me
pain.
It's all the same
when you think
about it.
It was all for,
love.

I am a fragment
of the woman
I was and
the woman I am.
I didn't always
love myself like this
but god, I'm glad I
now do...
because this is something
that can never be
taken away from me.

Some days are harder than others. I look in the mirror and count my flaws one by one. The voice in my head tells me I'm not good enough. I know that's not true but sometimes I'm tempted to give in. It's such a struggle to not drown in everyone's expectations of what I'm supposed to be. I constantly reassure myself that it's okay, the only expectations I have to live up to are my own. I'm smart. I'm beautiful. I'm kind. I have a big heart. I tell myself these things over and over just to remind myself that my worth isn't based on the recognition of another person. I will always have value regardless of who chooses to recognize it.

Today, I will look in the mirror and tell myself how much I love her. Instead of picking myself apart and counting my flaws, I will look to the things that make me beautiful. The thick eyebrows that frame my face. The eyes that twinkle when I talk about something I love. The thighs I've earned from running hard and long miles. My ability to always love again despite the pain. We get so wrapped up in trying to be what others want us to be that we neglect what is already there.

I want you to fall in love with yourself this year, flaws and all. Find a reason to love the part of yourself that you hate the most. It's nice to be loved by others but it's even nicer to be loved by yourself. Embrace yourself. That voice in your head that tells you that you aren't good enough is wrong. You have always been enough.

**The journey to self love isn't an easy one but it sure is one of the most important ones you'll experience.

I drank to forget your face but somehow I still found you at the bottom of my glass.

Google defines detach as--
"disengage (something or part of something)
and remove it."
But Google could never tell me
how to detach myself
from the feelings that
consume me
and swallow me whole.

I'm not being irrational.
I'm not blowing things out of proportion.
I'm not overreacting.
I'm not being dramatic.
I'm not being hypersensitive.

Before pointing your fingers at me,
I want you to look at yourself.
Do you have empathy?
Do you realize these bad things can happen?
You may not say the words you speak
with the intent to hurt
but that is exactly what you're doing.

Stop ******* dancing around the problem,
like it's this fun thing to do.
Violation.
Tears shed.
Screams.
Hands on a body that isn't theirs.
Pain.
Blame where it doesn't belong.

This is reality
and you have no right
to decide how this story goes.
I ask you to step back
and think about the ways
in which you are impacting others.

If I can't detach myself,
neither can you.
******* talk.
Say words that mean something.
Speak the truth.
This is painful.
I refuse to let you pretend
as if it's not.

This is all I think about.
Unfasten, disconnect, separate, remove.
Pull off, free, disengage, loosen.
I wish I could.
I really do.
But there's nothing that can make this
go away.

I feel the walls closing in.
My breaths are shorter.
Tears.
I want to escape
but you can't escape
your own feelings,
your own pain.

It must be nice to
de
tach.
How lucky
you are.