There always seems to be a small gap, never filled in

A void that aches with the pain of perpetual nothingness, it seems

As if being a good person to others isn’t enough to take it away, or fill it

Letting the stigmas of selfishness hold us back, from the realization

That we forget whom we must always love first, every day


**Ourselves

Your old body probably with a young soul
We're not so different you and me,
perhaps,
as I think I start to know how it feels,
clinging to the glory of the fountain of youth.
Yet what should be imparted wisdom doesn't come naturally,
it doesn't come certainly,
certainly doesn't come through your disapproving glances,
or through your continuous effort to invalidate the youngers.
Probably we're not so different you and me,
as I think I start to know the temptation,
the temptation of void self glorification,
a route I think created by the pestering need of self validation,
Yet I don't think I'd choose what you choose,
as much I would think I'm capable of,
I'd choose to learn,
rather than opposing the newborns

there are days where I feel pointless,
even a bit sad that my poems are
merely a drop in a vast ocean of
thoughts and expressions

why bother writing and sharing?

I sometimes feel insignificant,
and compare myself to others
and feel like I fall short.

there will always be people who write more clearly,
more beautifully with clear imagery,
but none writes like me.
I write, because I must.
sometimes the words build up inside of me,
and if I don't let it out it will slowly eat me up from the inside.

I write and share, because even though my words are like a drop
in a vast sea, at least like water I am connected to others by sharing a little snap shot of my life, thoughts and feelings.

I write, because it reminds me that I am worthy and loved enough to allow the beautiful act of creation to work within
me.  

I am part of the process of life, I am part of the whole, I am part of the "We."  

I am not alone.

Today I took a walk down memory lane
With some people from my past.
Your name never came up
But your shadow haunted every
Turn in conversation and we did our best
To ignore it.
In fact we did our best to pretend
That your existence was not real,
But then someone mentioned,
"Hey remember that time we...."
And flashbacks of suppressed visions
Of things I had hoped to never see again
Simply because they're not important
To who I am now
Flooded my stream of consciousness
And I chose to think of you.
To think of that time in that place
Where we did that thing....
And the more I think about it
The fuzzier it becomes.
I can't quite picture
The people, the room, the music,
The embarrassment, the shame, the guilt,
The utter ridiculousness of it all.
And the harder I try to grasp at the edges
Of the fraying memory
To bring it back into something whole,
Something vivid and full,
The darker and slipperier it gets.
And suddenly it dawns on me
Why it was easy to forget in the first place:
It just doesn't matter.
Who you were, who I was,
What you did, what I did,
Just doesn't matter
So what's the point in remembering?
Today I took a walk down memory lane
But decided it was far more enjoyable
To make a u-turn and walk
Away from you again.

I am strong.
I am a strong, independent
And confident young woman.
These are words that are hard
To tell myself;
To look in the mirror and
Convince myself that I am worthy
Of the life that I've been given.
I guess depression does that to you.
Suddenly all that confidence
I had grown up with,
The spirit I had,
It’s all gone, disappeared.
The hardest part is I don’t know why,
I don’t know what created this circle,
This awful self-loathing.
I don’t want to hate myself,
There are definitely things  
I do love about myself.
Yet there’s this voice in my head,
Telling me otherwise,
That these things aren't as great
As they appear to be.
I want to believe good
Things about myself,
To look in the mirror
And see that I’m beautiful.

This is the struggle I've been living with.
A cycle I’m learning to fight.
Being able to wake up in the morning
With a smile on my face,
Ready to face the new day.
Battling these demons is hard
But I know I’m not alone;
And in times of need I know
Where to turn, who to call.
Now, I've gotten to the point
Where I can handle this
On my own, my own small mantra
“You are a strong, confident and
Independent young woman,”
Actually has an impact now.
In times of need, I can say these
Words to myself,
And feel calm, I can feel them,
Those words taking over,
I am all that I speak.
I am strong.

Whisper, whisper but I can still hear you.
Your eyes tell it all.
You don't even know me and you don't even care. It's people like you who ****** onto me a two ton weight that kept me from walking tall all these years.
It's people like you that ignited a feeling of torment for the unrelenting realization that I will never escape people’s stares.
Days like these I wonder why, friends aren't friends and everything seems like a lie.
“I never asked to exist”, (words that echo through my head every time someone falls from exceptional to unbearable) .
You don't have the courtesy to talk behind my back, instead you boldly break me with your tacks; tacking your words onto my skin, until my pride and self-worth wears thin.
That’s why on weekends I would sometimes cage myself in my room because though I was not free, I was at least free from your gazes, and though I was not living, at least I was alive.
I stayed inside because outside there were wolves and I refused to be a meal. I've seen what they do to their prey, cornering, growling in order to strike fear, battling with their eyes, and then they consume them until all that is left, are bones.
This is what they do,
and many of us can attest to their brutality.