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La Girasol Feb 22
She has a name.

After all, she has a titular role.

Sometimes, she'll go by other names. My personal favorites are Anger, Sadness, A Filter, Pretending, Comparison, Expectations, Faking It, Perfectionism, and Silliness, amongst others.

But one day, she whispered her name to me, so softly that I thought it was just the wind.

"My name is Grief... my name is Grief" she repeated to me.

I cried at the weight of her words.

For I already knew her name, but I didn't want to believe it. But there it was, out in the open. Vulnerable and real.

Some days, I slam and lock the door in her face, ignoring her knocking.
Other days, I don't even bother to get up as she steps lightly into the room.

I hope someday to give her a hug and thank her for her years of wisdom and hurt, and how the two are inseparable.

There's something else too. She told me it the other day, under the too-long absent winter sun as I wept once more.

"I'm your sister... I'm your sister" she whispered, gently and lovingly.
To hard days & sad days & winter days & bad days & dark days & all days that feel endless. I am here. And I am alive.
The "My name is Grief" idea was inspiration from Pinterest. Credits to original author.
La Girasol Feb 16
There! Can you feel it?

It's as if the whole of the earth's sighs,
the nudging of the painted skies,
the tremblings of valleys and peaks,
the singing of oceans and creeks,
the gentle tug of the moon,
the torrent of the monsoon,
the impact of a tear-stained face,
the heat of a lover's embrace,

and the fierce shouts of the stars
came together in a harmonious uproar.

All to proclaim Your majesty
and a single thought that soars,
La Girasol Feb 14
I hold an impossible mirror above my head, just out of reach.

The audience can't see it, only me.
They clap and laugh and grin while I do my routine.

Meanwhile something hangs overhead.

So I'll do the dance, I'll put on the show, I'll do what they want.

But I scream within,
for mirror shards are no fickle sin.

"More! More!" they chant.

So I hold up the mirror instead.

But they know no difference.
For the mirror,
is what they've always been fed.
La Girasol Feb 11
I wept for myself today. A younger me, that is.

For what I wish I could tell her. For what should have been.

I mourned for her years of pain and apathy and feelings of invalidation. For what should have been.

I would give her a big hug, for all the ones she didn't receive.

I would tell her to be brave, but to remember to cry too, for what should have been.

I would take her bra shopping and celebrate her womanhood, for what should have been.

I would tell her about my own pain and trauma. I would teach her what empathy is, for what should have been.

I would encourage her to be honest. I would be serious with her and teach her about grief and sadness, for what should have been.

I would tell her that it's not over. And that she is not who or what others think she is.

I would tell her to smash the impossible mirror she is holding up, for what should have been.

And I would hold her. So, so close. For what should have been.
Makenzie Marie Nov 2018
My heart is in such a fragile place.
I don’t realize until it suddenly starts to ache.
Makenzie Marie Nov 2018
‪Sitting alone in my car at a park‬
2am and the tears start
You drive away
because I say it’s okay
But the stitches in my heart
Are tearing apart.
I didn’t lie though I promise. I’m okay
Rose Who Knows Oct 2018
Here's a big question

What do I want?
Right now? In the future?
Maybe the better question is who do I want?
Does he have a name?

Nameless man
It would be so fitting if your name was Jack

I want someone to touch
I want someone to hold and to caress
For him to be content with this much

I want someone
To cuddle
To share secrets with
To share knowing looks

Is it possible? Is it too much to ask?
I want a guy best friend
That's what I want right now
Not a boyfriend
Not a friends with benefits

(Though, sometimes that sounds good)

To be close physically, but not in a ****** way
It may sound crazy, but I want a guy best friend
Is that too much to ask?
Just writing out my thoughts, don't mind me. I was more confused at the beginning of this than the end.
flynn Sep 2018
person feels a wave of heat through their neck and face when struck with a thought of their ex boyfriend. a ninth grader gives them a ***** look. person leans against a cold cinderblock wall and relaxes their face. focus on the empty space between the eyeballs and the brain. feel the limp arms and identify the beat of a pulse running through them. repeat after me: self care is boring.

paul laurence dunbar knows why the caged bird sings. he never wanted to be an elevator operator. it's a point of privilege. person asks a ninth grader if a bird could see the wind, the river, the sun. "oh... no..."

one thing person notices time and again is that when these students drop something they do not pick it up. they let someone else do it. where person is from it is not like that. students would not help person like that, they think.

person remembers one time, when they themselves were in the ninth grade, dropping their lunchbox in a crowded hallway and picking it up swiftly in the next step without slowing down. a tall boy behind them said "smooth". person felt proud at the time. person feels good remembering this.
lots of things have changed recently.
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