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Why BE lost at Sea
Screaming let me BE

You are not alone
On your own

When you fly through Everything
Hear your heart Sing

My Heart Knows
I'm Never Alone.

by Debra Lea Ryan & Life
18.02.2025
☀♥ƸӜƷ✿♬
In song @ You Tube https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aN0kCqkAUxE
As a child, I never understood the need for basic necessities. Strangely, even as a teenager, that understanding never came.

Then one morning, everything changed—not because I craved a luxurious lifestyle. I never asked for that.
Growing up, I always watched my mom earn every penny. So naturally, I started walking in her footsteps. But now, I find myself on the other side of the table. I’m the one in need.

When you've always earned everything, asking for help feels harder than working endlessly. And now—I’m supposed to ask.
The picture I had of myself at 16 never included asking for the bare minimum.

And yet, here I am, staring at myself at my worst. Seeking help. Trying to understand the blurred lines between the bare minimum, basic needs, and luxury.

Back then, talking about everyday chores was part of small talk. Now, finding someone willing to have that conversation feels impossible.
I never knew growing up would mean lowering my standards—in food, shelter, clothing... even companionship.

Being the elder daughter has always meant one thing: earn everything, ask for nothing.

The strange part? Earning is still easier.
New to the world of writing!
Trying to improve the journey ...
Grey 4d
If weeds could thrive—
Grow under duress,
Withstand the stomping,
Cling to minimal breath,
Evade the storm—
Then I want to be one.

No—
I am one.

But the downfall,
It’s a weakness:
Weeds get wiped out faster.
They welcome death
By choking what breathes beside them.
And so do I.
I realize.

I thought my forte was depth—
Roots dug well.
But now it’s dried, cracked,
And starting to burn
Others with it.
I see the endings in their birth,
The wilt curled in the bloom,
The echo in the first soft word
That hums of pending gloom.

Yet on I go, with knowing steps,
Down paths that twist and burn
Not for hope, nor fate, nor faith,
But just to feel the turn.

It’s not some tragic grandeur,
No noble, aching art
Just a quiet urge to prove myself
The fool I knew at start.
A self-aware confession dressed as poetry because sometimes wisdom doesn’t save us from walking straight into the fire we already smelled.
8 years of therapy
therapist after therapist
nothing worked
I gained all the skills I needed
at psych wards
I never used the tools given
from the psych wards
but today is the day
therapy is not helpful
for me
but I will write my new beginnings
use the skills
do research
take my meds
and heal
I will do it by myself
because I have learned
that I am the only person
that I can rely on
if therapy helps for you, great! but it hasn't for me
Joss Lennox May 7
Up       Down   Up     Down  
and                  and
My heart, it pounds, on the fast-paced merry-go-round.
Flashing moments
left whirling on the wind,
Timeless clockwork
filled with dizzying delight,
Stillness surrounds
these splendidly spinning
and thrilling seats,
An enchanting ride
where wild and whimsy,
meet cheerful release.
this poem, to me, is about finding the beauty, stillness, and reflection even in our own fast-paced lives.
My soul is digging its feet into the earth and fending off the shadows that surround.
My spirit is being tilled, unearthed, unwound.
The plow strikes my bones, and I am becoming something more than my eyes can visualize.
I am being planted, uprooted, and rising out of the ground with roots running through my veins, and my spirit cries out in faith because my soul is being strengthened through the pain.

-Rhia Clay
Matthew Liu May 5
O~ captain, captain!
Here comes the awakening of the summer,
And also, mon sommeil as a voyager.
Zafar Shaikh May 5
I stand at the end, looking upon the new road ahead.
I step on to a new journey, with its map unread.
I am unaware of the destination; how do I advance?
"I am just a piece of paper here", said the map at a glance.
I carry along with me a treasure trove of experience and memories,
To which I still cling upon for an appease.
I find it tough to leave the treasure behind,
Together that I earned with my people in our grind.
I learn about the road on every turn as I proceed,
I reach the fork and validity of my decision makes me worried.
For the demand of each path, I pay a similar cost,
Not on the way, but in the pool of my thoughts, I am lost.
Joss Lennox Apr 28
The race to the top of silver rain mountain,
it's on the way down to the rivers of riches,
headed out west on golden threaded miles,
through the trees of greeds green ghosts,
in valleys of gilded breaths and golden hushes,
merchants, muses blow on as paper winds,
stay a while on beggars promises,
all to collect their coin of dreams.
greed is a hollow journey. pursuit of love, kindness, gratefulness, community, equality, fairness and peace i.e. things with depth will forever hold more value. greed can be found, of course, in all of these. Be grateful for what you have when you have it, even when you're struggling to make ends meet, especially then.
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