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Cora 7d
i know this hurricane
we've been here before
different versions of me in different suits of skin
with some of the lies written in different colors
in hail and rain and snow

it's comforting, in a way
when it's here at least the wait is over
and i know exactly how things work here
i can look for all that's left in the whirlwind
and find my legs and arms and phone and the cup of tea

and i am calm
calm in the only way that feels permanent
because there's nothing to protect anymore and i am absolved
and i can just sit back and listen
to my mind mimicking the sounds of thunder
Stxlle Mar 10
Let me be someone
to her, to him, to me
Let me mean something
to someone, to anyone

Take me somewhere
where I can find myself
I've lost who I am
without really knowing who that was

Probably because I left

I walked away from everything
I walked away from the people who hurt me
I was afraid they'd see me
so I built a wall

A wall even I couldn't break
Now, I no longer know the person behind it

The wall made me forgetful and cold
I've been to places I don't remember
I've created memories I won't cherish
I've looked in the mirror and saw someone else
I've hid so much that I've forgotten who I was. I've changed myself so much just to please and fit in with people that now, I'm really lost. I'm still asking myself what I need to do to change that
How do you decide?
Decide what to do,
What the future holds for you?
I don’t understand, one goal,
One goal that somehow
Supersedes them all.

How do you choose?
When passion flows through you,
For not just one, nor two,
But many life paths, careers,
It all means something to you?

I feel lost, thinking of the future.
I’m floating by, trying to find,
Something that could spark
More than mere interest,
Something that could captivate,
Hypnotize me for long enough.

Because you see, I flit from one
Passion to the next, one minute
I am drawing, the next sewing,
The next it’s animals I love,
Or how about teaching children?

And I sit here empty, not sure
Which path to take, which goal
To make, to work towards,
Because right now, I’m in
The inbetween, no job,
Not in school, what do I do?

But the reality is, I’m trying to find
That one magic passion,
That somehow works with my
Disable body, since almost everything,
I find it all exhausting.
And my mind is spinning circles,
A dog chasing its tail.

Why can’t I do it all?
Why can’t I just enjoy life, enjoy
All of the things it brings,
And take my time, because I’m
So tired, of trying to figure it all out.
Tired of planning, I’ve never been
Too good at planning, when there’s
So many things occupying my mind,
So many things that I desire.

But even then, even then, if I could find
A goal to work towards, a dream job
For right now, well that takes work
And it takes time, because it
Turns out it’s all a ladder that
We all have to climb and being disabled,
Well I feel left behind, not sure
How to move forward when
I also have to go up, and going
Up has always been so draining.

I must work now, to somehow
Get somewhere I would rather be,
But what do you do when most jobs
Require me to be on my feet,
With my level of experience,
And education, limiting me?
It’s like I have to hurt myself
In order to hopefully some day,
Live a better life, I guess that’s why
So many say, ‘suffer now, and
You’ll get your reward later’

I tried university, tried college,
But you see, being disabled,
Has made them  difficult for me.
At least, in the ways that I was pursuing.
And now I’m stuck, trying to find my way,
How to get out of this rut, this mess,
All around me while being limited
By my own body, when I’m so used
To trying so hard to keep up
With the rest of them, charging
At how much money they can earn.

Money, it always comes back to money.
And money stresses me out,
Makes me more sick, gives me more
Pain that I would ever like to be in.
Well, apparently, money is
Supposed to be the solution.

Not so easy when the job market is ****,
I didn’t come from money, so I had to
Start off with nothing, and make my own way.
But where do you start, when
All your ‘now’ prospects seem
Rather lackluster and all you can do
Is prepare for a future.

Strange to think that we’re told to
Live each and every day like
It’s the last one we may ever live,
When we have to spend our beginnings
Stuck in preparing, deciding, and striving
For a future, so hard to make,
When all you started with was
A journal to write in.

I just want to live now,
I want to live everyday,
I want to spend more time
Cultivating all this passion inside
Of me, it’s bursting inside of me.

But there’s this rut, this anxiety,
This fear, of having to build a life,
No, a career. So that I can live
In the future, instead of now,
So that hopefully, we can get by,
Scrape by, by the skins of our teeth.

Tired of working **** jobs,
That I don’t really like, where we’re
Unappreciated, and paid to barely live.
Overworked, underpaid, I’m in so much pain.
My body, can’t stand in this pain,
But that’s all I can do is stand.
In pain, at a cash register,
Or making drinks, no consideration,
Of the struggle it is of being disabled.

Because we all have to able.
Able to stand, to push, to work
Your ***** off, until there’s nothing left,
You’ve given all you’ve got, and then
Some. Soul *******, career bent,
Work too hard, to fit in.
You got to be a workaholic to fit in.

Well I can’t keep up with that pace,
And I see it wearing people thin,
People that have more strength,
More drive than I ever did.
How are we supposed to live,
When you have to work to live,
And, in turn, live to work.
It’s extremely exhausting.

All of this jumbles inside me,
I can’t breathe, can’t decide,
How I’m supposed to live my life
When everything screams
On all sides, that I’m supposed to be
Running, supposed to be rushing,
And that all seems so wrong.

I just want to live a life that has meaning.
Something meaningful to me, that I can
Actually enjoy each moment as it passes
Us all by, I don’t want to rush life
Before it all ends, I’m so tired
Of trying to run in this ‘rat race’
It’s not a race, I need a slower pace.
I demand a slower place.
No more running, no more racing,
It’s time to live in the now,
No fear.
© Michelle Brunet 2019
We have a life
Where everything is just right
The sun is not too far off right
The skin you don is not too tight
Everything seems alright

The Porridge was just right
The chair felt just nice
And oh wow
That bed made her feel so light
A little bit here and a little bit there
Goldilocks would not move even a slight

We have a life
Everything seems just fine
There is no reason we can't feel delight
But such a facade
Only Goldilocks can provide

What was a little girl doing in a bear's house?
Why was it torn her little blouse?
Why was she alone in a wild farmhouse?
Did she have no food?
Did she have no stool?
Did she have no roof?

Her parents gone
She - Abandoned
Bears - frightened
What kind of little girl
Goes to a bear's house hopeful
For something to make her tummy full
For something to from this lonely ditch - pull

Maybe all she wanted was just right
For goodness in her life
Did not seem like her rite

We have a life
A life filled with not rights
A life filled with imperfections
People say flaw is beauty
To that theory I say
That's a load of Gurry

Nothing is right
Crisis blocks the light
Corruption is the only sight
The skin you don is not enough bright
And Global Warming is a lost fight
When will we once again
Have clear sight
And see the life we thought we had
Is not right

What is beauty
Is finding the little light
In a world filled with plight
When everything seems alright
When nothing seems wrong
When good things seem came
Then you look into his eyes
You will see a sea of bane
You will notice his lack of sane
But until then...

We have a life
Things are not alright
They will be...
Goldilocks  short  stories  crisis  global  warming  facade  happiness  sadness  smokescreen  passion  do what is right  our world  our life  emotions  poem
Alice Feb 25
you said you like thin girls
so i never took a bite for months
you said you like emotionally strong girls
so i cried until i had no more tears left in my eyes
you said you like girls with short hair
so i cut off all of that 17 years of hair
you said you like independent girls
so i never took offers of caring help
you said you like smart girls
so i never got sleep but studied a lot with sleep pills
you said you like girls with girl friends
so i joined a clique of people i "liked"

i wasn't sure what to like and dislike what anymore
i didn't know who i was anymore
i was hungry
and tired
i kept telling myself it wasn't torture
but i told myself the opposite


you said i was perfect before
yeah well
you said so, now look at me now
identity crisis for love is difficult.
julianna Feb 22
déjà vu
a fleeting feeling
that goes away
but the emotions stay
and for that second,
you’re alone.
you may be be surrounded
by loved ones
by friends
by laughter,
but if you’ve been here before,
what’s the point?
am I even real?
Lost Feb 17
i type distantly
like the hands
that hold my phone
are alien appendages
attached to a body
from a different space
and a different time

but it is 1:13am now
and i am rooted here
in the physical world
my atoms buzzing and humming
dancing through the atmosphere
confined to this vessel
of meat and bones
that i have no choice
but to animate

i am here
condemning this physical form
to the four corners of my room
i switch between
writing to an operator
for a crisis text line
and spilling my insides
onto the lines i write here

this is how i spend my nights

it is 1:39am now
i canceled the text service
because i am tired
and i don’t find solace
in condescending
impersonal advice

believe it or not
i am a self-aware human being
and after six years
of making myself bleed
it actually has occurred to me
that i could find a hobby
or snap a rubber band
on my shaking wrists
and i have tried whatever unfulfilling
underwhelming trick
you have to offer

your intentions are always good
dear operators
but *******
your ignorance
is astoundingly

it is 1:56am
and i feel just as alone as before
but just a little more frustrated
and closer to sleep
than when I started
I found this while looking through my notes. It was written in May.
Daan Vandelay Feb 15
A mild case of impostor syndrome,
a severe symptom in the form of
confabulations without instigations,

are the base of our disease.
Who we are, is glued to our
actions, due to devour
what our soup tasted like before it all went sour.

This is nonsense, this is weak,
this is no writing of which people speak.
Is it even right in use to say the things, written.
Stop longing for the time of long before,

when we were all still rid
of conscious thought and feeling,

back when we were reeling in and out, casually,
of our devout inadequacy.
When do we deserve a title and when are we what we’re called?
I page my photo album to keep my memories alive
I listen to my favorite songs
Yet I couldn't survive my memories
I go places in which I had memories
Again I couldn't survive them all
I meet my friends whom I loved them much
Then I couldn't keep them alive
All I want is my feelings that have stored & shared
All I miss is my identity
This poem is for people whom they feel confused at times and trying to hunt their best version
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