"validated" poems
dear girl,
i would like to apologize on behalf
of those that will never.
the world lied to you
since you were old enough
to balance a book
to listen, retain,
consume without question
i would like to apologize on behalf
of those that informed you
your value is calculated
by the sum of your parts
that you are worth the contrast of fat deposits
over the angles of fragile bones
i would like to apologize on behalf
of those pining characters they wrote you,
every soul with a haunting disposition
who was given the noble ambition
to invoke longing within those
that remain on the outside
of the glass
because the songs that were sung on the radio
cast you as the the inspiration
but when they painted you lips for love
they denied you the language of narration
and you lived your life thinking
you could invoke magic
if you were only willing
to wait your entire life
for someone else to conjure it
i am sorry
that we filled your head
with empty adjectives
to whisper in your ear
that you were nothing
unless validated by the eyes of strangers
seeing you as nothing more
than a commodity
for which to window shop
and consume
and when they abandoned their casual browsing
their wants transcended your right
to exist
and it was you
they chose to invade
to tear open
because after all,
you were man made
a nail scratching a rib
a void to fill up
with whatever poison they thought you’d look sexier
choking on
dear girl,
i would like to apologize on behalf
of the fact that you remain unnamed,
an improper noun
a caricature,
a statistic,
a silhouette on the back window
mouth a perfect oh
that will never know words
i am sorry that the second
you entered the world with two X’s
they would reduce you
to an exquisite tragedy,
place them over your eyes
and declare that the death of a beautiful woman
is the most poetic thing in the world
i would like to apologize
because this world was never
quite big enough to hold you
and we knew
and we saw
and we opened our mouths,
took a breath,
and we closed them
Jul 24, 2016
Jul 24, 2016 at 3:28 AM UTC
I fell in love
not with you
but the way
you validated me
when you grew tired
and could not hold my sorrows
in your shaking hands
I felt nothing
I laid my worth on you
full forced and terribly
I loved you not
for who you were
but who you let me be
and I am sorry
Sep 23, 2017
Sep 23, 2017 at 3:36 PM UTC
Chainsmoking menthols,
creating clouds on parade.
Living in the dark;
frenching hurt that I've made.
There's a sadness in my comfort
and a comfort in my sadness.
*** fame, ******* down
commercialized madness.
I don't dream of pornstars
as much as I dream of clothes.
Videogames to escape it all,
carbon monoxide through my nose.
Too good for this and that;
entitlement at an all-time high.
Doing television to help me live,
or maybe to help me die.
Spotify for the masses
beating in my brain.
Youtube and pornhub
to make me feel the same
as the lost I compare to myself
and the celebs I want to be.
I want to be on edge, rich, validated;
I want to live in a fractured harmony.
Sep 18, 2016
Sep 18, 2016 at 1:51 AM UTC
She's a selfish lover, armed with stunning beauty.
She hunts joyfully for an innocent & caring heart,
She wants to satisfy her longing spirit.
Self validation by conquered hearts.
Conquests, like trophies on a night stand.
Each victory validated by a wounded spirit.
Her potent satisfactions soon dwindles.
Repeated victories, must be obtained.
Scores of bleeding hearts form rivers of tears.
Each conquest screaming from nearby roof tops.
Her Reputation becomes known by many.
The walking wounded,
They protect their dulled spirit
With raised eyebrows and gently shaking heads,
With muffled voices they warn, she is trouble waiting to happen.
I have been bitten by her kind of love.
The sting lingers in my heart,
The scars noticeable in my spirit & in my eyes.
I have her disease now.
My heart longs for love.
Not for Revenge!
But, for recovery and for self validation!
Jan 1, 2013
Jan 1, 2013 at 5:19 PM UTC
i still remember the day i met you
it was in the middle of july or sometime around there and from the start i really really liked you but there were always doubts in the back of my head because why on this earth we live on would someone like you ever even merely want to breathe the same air as me let alone kiss me and put the same air into my lungs?
as beautiful as the thoughts of sharing the same air were the doubts were still there and even though they sometimes faded away they always seemed to come back especially when you showed me your favorite songs because i knew there was so much feeling behind the way you interpreted the lyrics and i didn’t understand any of it or maybe i just didn’t think of them the same way but you told me the night you were drunk that there was so much more to them than just silly nostalgia and it was then that i knew you weren’t good for me
the lyrics were a subliminal message to me that the air in our lungs wasn’t air at all it was actually every chemical in the cigarettes you smoke amplified by three thousand times and it only got worse every time you kissed me but i was okay with our lungs both being black because black is our favorite color
that’s the only thing we have in common
the texts during sixth period came to a sudden halt and so did the snapchats even though they were always of the ground and the skype calls at two am and the instagram likes and the you’re beautiful's and the i miss you's
you always said you’d keep your distance but i never thought you’d actually leave and i really didn’t think it would be without saying goodbye but it’s okay because now the fragments i spilled to this page are full sentences and everything is validated
maybe you only wanted to kiss me because you knew it charred the inside of me and turned me into your favorite color
i can breathe my own air now and maybe just maybe my lungs won’t be black anymore
Oct 21, 2014
Oct 21, 2014 at 8:08 AM UTC
Downfall she claims
Dripping in disease
Her dress ripped
Trees dying
Holes cover the seams
Tattered
Sewage covered
Disgraced
Ugly
Taking her vitality
The mass living upon her soil
Population at a high
Charging her for corruption
Her hair cut
In shambles
Uneven proportioned
Greed is the man in lead
Unfairly held to shame
Her belly rumbles
Earthquakes
Crack her skin
Aching
Oozing her blood
Tsunamis wiping out existence
She violently
Throws tantrums
A twister destroying houses
Seeking attention
Under validated
Unnoticed for exotic jungle humanity
Innocence
Her music lifts
The mountain breeze
Sagebrush rustles
Birds whisper
Squirrels leaping
Her captivating body sings
Weak man made her break
Small art gone
Ice caps melting into the abyss
Taking scraps
Leftover bits
Her soul
Missing
Stipping her clothing
******* her gold
Her shirt selfishly torn
Naked she became
Her animals hungry
Oceans sickened
Our anguish
Is revenge
Knocked out
She's becoming manipulated belief
She's in debt to the population
Mother will reclaim
Her dynasty
We the people will be left
In emptiness
May 11, 2016
May 11, 2016 at 8:29 PM UTC
Hey.
I'm glad you came here.
Thank you for remembering this.
Thank you for remembering to look at this.
I know it hurts.
God.
I know.
You're scared out of your mind that this is going to be your entire life.
Full of pain.
Full of fear.
Full of depression and anxiety.
Full of storms and trials that leave you breathless on the ground, shaking from the panic that courses through your blood.
You think that if you just die now, you'll be in heaven.
Where it is so much better.
Where there is no pain.
No depression.
No anxiety.
No fear.
But, you have your life to live right now.
And it won't be an awful life.
How do I know?
Because beauty is in everything and it is just waiting to fully bloom.
You want to know the beauty that was in today?
Today, I had an amazing, life-giving conversation.
My fears and thoughts were validated.
I was told I wasn't alone.
I geeked out with him over film.
And I was given the biggest compliment.
I was told that my mind intrigued him.
We shared about our own experiences with depression.
We talked about God and how sometimes there just aren't answers.
It was amazing and it was just what I needed.
You won't have that if you make your thoughts a reality.
I want you to remember everything and everyone you love.
On earth.
In this life.
I want you to remember why you need to stay alive.
Remember your family.
Remember your dad who is going through so much pain.
Remember your mom who is fighting to stay with you.
Remember your brother who loves you, even though it does not feel like it.
Remember your cousin who will do anything for you.
Remember that they will do everything in their power to help you.
Remember your friends.
Remember your best friend who won't know what to do without you.
Remember your teachers who pray and talk with you.
Remember how they are fighting with you and for you.
Remember your favorite things.
Remember driving in your car at night with your music blasting.
Remember reading a good book with the warmth of the fireplace.
Remember the rush of taking a risk, whether physical or emotional.
Remember tea and peaches and blankets and books.
Remember conversations and movies and passion and love.
Remember oceans and mountains and flowers and stars.
Remember all the little things.
Remember how life can be so surprising.
So get your headphones,
blast your music,
drown out those voices,
and when you're ready,
go to sleep.
I promise that it won't be so bleak in the morning.
May 20, 2015
May 20, 2015 at 6:07 PM UTC
What makes me horribly gut-wrenchingly sad,
is that at my weakest moments,
I didn’t even think I deserved my tears.
Like somehow,
in the grand scheme of things,
My pain isn’t validated.
Others have suffered worse,
Why should I think I deserve to cry?
What a low place to fall.
That even my agony was a Flaw.
Jan 26, 2017
Jan 26, 2017 at 3:43 PM UTC
Visual delusions:
*Scrutinizing the acuity of
what is visualized.
But sight is only validated
by the morality glazed over.
Until narratives are edited
to mimic a reality of self delusion.*
Oral formalization
*Dictation versed within syllable
delusions, never sounding
the reflection of thought to breath.
But sour exhalation collects on
vacant windows, spelling other
than what is breathed outwards.*
Auditory silence
*Auditions drummed within,
echoing on shallow walls,
nothing wrote within
A tirade of failures woven with
three perceptions. Collective ignorance*.
Aug 9, 2018
Aug 9, 2018 at 4:34 PM UTC
Because Instagram is my medium, and because somewhere deep down--in that place that no one talks about--it makes me feel immensely validated: putting out my ******** and receiving little bits of peer approval in return... Because I still smoke too fast when I want that short indulgent rush to last the most, so light another. Because the Itunes visualizer is an assured source of inspiration when I am feeling small about the universe, and about the 5-ish senses that I am confined to, and because there is too much of me to simply be kept quiet; because the things I want are wanted too completely to shut up about. Because I am doing excellent, and I want everybody in the world to applaud me for it--for my relentless and unyielding grasp of sanity, which often slips without my sureness be-ing lost along with it, and because the wreckage is a comfy place to lie when everything comes down to it...
Because admitting to yourself that you are addicted is the first step to recovery--or so I am told,,, and because denial is the first step one must fall from if they're itching to reach bottom... Because I am tired of climbing and have learned--among all else--how to enjoy the weightlessness of this long fall and the uncertainty it brings: uncertainty being my one true love, alongside mistress logic, who I truly LOVE returning to with open arms, seeking her comfort after a long long trip-- where I can walk winter without minding cold, and can enjoy seeing all the sights and all the Mad, Mad characters that wonderland contains. Because there is no 'character limit' nor is there censorship where I am concerned. Because I crave the criticism: that repetition is a cheaters way to write--and I want to cheat life's limitations and all social standards every chance I get. Because above all else, below all else, I want to clarify that--through every lesson I have taken-in since recently deceased December, and through all I have learned painfully, through the confusion and unrecognized irrelevance,
Because the greatest thing that I have learned thus far is: I am learning.
Apr 14, 2015
Apr 14, 2015 at 12:25 AM UTC
Quiet are the fields
with ghosts
from pennants past
the aces
and cutters
set idly away
from the maple
spread fall
soft sounds
of Sunday
(chilling on the boneyard)
telling tales of
validated stars
and wheel house legends
the rally cap sluggers
with mahogany eyes
Mustard colors
in floating mists
give a hallowed glow
to sublime skies
scattered walkers
trip to the hole
their spit buckets
and spigots
pressed loosely into
pure life form
bikers and loners
and curious coffee goers
mill about the horn
whispering numbers
from an old
Keelman heaving
Alley lookers
and Mendoza lines
screachers, bleachers
from years gone by
dancing fingers
and cracks at the bat
moonshots
(from the big time Timmy Jim)
the 9th inning gunner
with sinker
and slider
and imposing
brush back ballz
the game day citizen
and dugout warrior
who lit it all up
in Rockwell fame
Jan 18, 2017
Jan 18, 2017 at 11:28 PM UTC
So it would seem,
the only difference
twixt Animal Behavior
and Human Behavior
is a capacity
for written
and spoken
Language.
-
---Epilogue--
According to various 'dictionaries,'
the word "anthrocentric" doesn't exist.
I, however, define it as the same principals of
sexism, ethnocentrism, or nationalism,
but applied to the perception
of a validated stratification of Human Beings
over the entirety of the Web of Life,
rather than to simply
the *** ethnicity or nationality
of another.
I feel
the natural world around us
is far more sacred than we are-
although we are spawned of it.
I feel
it is so much more sacred
due to an absent respect for it
and the other beings
which it hosts so well;
so selflessly.
We **** Sapiens Sapiens*
have defiled our own sanctity
via lack of respect
for ourselves,
let alone others Beings;
Human, and otherwise.
Apparently, that isn't very popular.
So many Egos
would rather depend on
intentionally small sample sizes,
while many Ids
would rather self-preclude
the challenge of self-observation
fore a mere and fleeting
(most likely destructive)
comfort.
I venture to say that is a present form of cowardice.
Jan 6, 2015
Jan 6, 2015 at 5:00 AM UTC
It's easy to see why you fell in love with him,
It's easy to see why you hoped you found forever
But you didn't.
And that disappointment felt like a death
and you have been trapped between anger and denial
for four years.
You think you must bury him in order to bury your grief.
And convincing others of this too
has become a game
where you sleep and play
inside your litter box.
Now the feces of hatred and revenge
stick to your feet wherever you go.
You must turn him into a monster
by telling anyone who will listen
that he is haunting you—and you really want this to be true
because that would mean he was still interested in your life.
But when you are alone and still…you remember...
coffee and stories, genuine kindness
and you know, his only crime was breaking your heart.
I understand your heartbreak;
you saw your knight in shining armor,
The answer to your loneliness.
Your pathway out of poverty.
His demeanor is gentle,
his quiet, listening face
hears your words with truth and interest;
every sentence is allowed to live its full life
until you are validated and understood.
He is your biggest fan, a loving caregiver.
Children and animals are drawn to him
like a shepherd or a father or a friend.
We both know he gave 8 years to a child,
a paraplegic who wasn’t even his own.
Bathed him, carried him, wiped drool from his chin
and in between all the doctors, made him laugh.
He offers himself to everyone this way, so
I understand why losing him hurt you so wholly
I know this, because I love him too.
But I think you and I define love very differently;
I wouldn’t want someone whom I had to threaten to make him stay.
I wouldn’t derive my identity from an unspoken contract
or imaginary promises that I insisted he owed me.
I wouldn’t try to destroy another human being
for the sole purpose of hiding my own embarrassment.
You see, love would remember his beautiful soul
and love would sincerely want him to be happy
Even if that meant he found happiness without you.
Dec 3, 2017
Dec 3, 2017 at 9:14 PM UTC
Hero got a phone call,
From the being with three eyes.
So often his existence,
Could be validated by advice.
It is then organised by rhythms,
So that the words solidify,
If the chaos cant be structured,
Then all vision is blinding light.
Hero said to the being,
“I fall in to infatuation with such ease.”
The being said, “You’re seeing,
Your own love reflectively.
“Your brains mirror neurone system,
Causes you to smile at a smile,
This mirroring of others,
Allows for formation of a tribe.
Now you know this wisdom,
Think of your romantic life.
The subject of your infatuation,
Did not cause your love inside.
The love all humans seek,
Is already in your possession,
Which is why the search feels bleak,
You’re hunting the impossible obsession.
You’re all looking for your lost keys,
Tearing everything apart,
All the while they’re in your hand,
Or your breast pocket by your heart.”
Hero nodded rhythmically,
But found it hard to understand,
“If the love’s inside of me,
Then how has any love began?”
“A lot of love is a product,
Of false infatuation;
Two people seeking it from each other,
And thus there is divorce and separation.
But true love is the love inside of you,
Which is the love of the universe,
If you can learn to embrace this,
Then it will free you of your curse.
The mirror neurone system also detects,
The love inside as if it was a grin.
Within another, you’re existing love will reflect,
And embrace and share this world that the two of you are in.
It’s not a swapping of hearts,
But a pressing of them together.
The look in her eyes was not the start,
The start of love was forever.”
Nov 23, 2014
Nov 23, 2014 at 4:55 PM UTC
When I use my hands for good, it's for me.
When I put love into my cooking, it's for me.
When I maintain good habits, it's for me.
When I practice self love, it's for me.
I was taught that love is conditional. I was taught that I couldn't receive love unless I fit into a certain mold. But you know what? I refuse to do that. I refuse to limit myself and my being to the idea everyone has for me.
Why should I have to love myself under certain expectations?
Why can I not accept unconditional love? Is it because I've never known unconditional love, or is it because I feel that I don't deserve it?
I've spent so much of my life trapped in a bubble of expectations. I cannot live within borders because I know that I am limitless. I cannot act with love and I cannot love without loving myself first.
I don't think that loving myself unconditionally is a crime. I don't think it makes me selfish. Loving myself unconditionally makes me feel human.
Being human is my favorite thing about myself.
I love that humans have come so far that I am privileged to be typing on my computer about my inner workings. I don't have to worry about my survival because it feels assured.
I love the people around me so much. I was taught that family is the most important, which is valuable to some but not all. I love that I feel unconditional love from people who aren't blood.
That makes me feel so good. I feel validated that another human is able to value me without there being a catch or obligation (That is the exact reason why I ended up loving someone more intimately that I had expected).
Conditional love is the problem and unconditional love is the solution.
The lesson I've learned over the last few weeks is that I need to be able to accept love without any certain conditions.
Jan 14, 2016
Jan 14, 2016 at 4:16 PM UTC
The land of the free.
With so many people of pedigree.
Which makes us sounds like a dog.
As, we try to describe the way we are.
When speaking about our heritage.
I'm Irish American.
I'm Italian American.
I'm African American.
Or European American.
When simply stated about your race.
If you're American born.
You're American.
Verified and validated.
To be real.
To be true.
We're not complete sure who's what?
And who is who?
We just needs to correct ourself.
About, who we are?
Or think we are.
You might be American of Italian descent.
You might be American of African descent.
You might be American of Asian descent.
Or American of Irish descent.
Or European descent.
Where we all might be mixed to be kins?
When we think of only being friends.
We only see black and white in one country.
Which I never fiqure out the color.
None of the skin identify to the race.
But we see B and W on many application forms.
Which I have never figure out why?
Or less it's to discriminate from hiring.
But we always seems to blend in as one.
When some one attacks your country from a war.
Then color becomes second nature to us.
When we proudly states what country we belong.
And heritage doesn't get mention at all
Jan 28, 2013
Jan 28, 2013 at 10:11 AM UTC
She's a selfish lover, armed with stunning beauty.
She hunts joyfully for an innocent & caring heart,
She wants to satisfy her longing spirit.
Self validation by conquered hearts.
Conquests, like trophies on a night stand.
Each victory validated by a wounded spirit.
Her potent satisfactions soon dwindles.
Repeated victories, must be obtained.
Scores of bleeding hearts form rivers of tears.
Each conquest screaming from nearby roof tops.
Her Reputation becomes known by many.
The walking wounded,
They protect their dulled spirit
With raised eyebrows and gently shaking heads,
With muffled voices they warn, she is trouble waiting to happen.
I have been bitten by her kind of love.
The sting lingers in my heart,
The scars noticeable in my spirit & in my eyes.
I have her disease now.
My heart longs for love.
Not for Revenge!
But, for recovery and for self validation!
Jan 17, 2015
Jan 17, 2015 at 11:39 AM UTC
I am the typewriter and you were
backspacing backspacing backspa
all my words as if I had never said them.
You knew I meant
every letter I slammed down
furiously into the keyboard
writing about you
about your lack of making time
closing me off last minute
ignoring any plans we made at all.
I don't get why you had to leave my
thoughts as if they were not validated.
If someone cared for you as much as I do,
I sure hope you don't backspace on them
before they can get a word out.
Sep 28, 2015
Sep 28, 2015 at 12:51 AM UTC
In the midst of our passion,
I tried to make you show your hand.
You were losing your poker face,
I thought your inhibitions were gone.
But when I said “tell me what you want”
You replied “for you to be happy and healthy”.
And that shattered the dam.
The wall that held back the sea splintered.
And I let you see me drown in my pain.
I told you how letting you gorge on me
Made me the kind of sad I could control.
It was a shallow kind of sad, one that could be fixed with scotch tape.
I ripped the adhesive off of the shallow sad
When the deep dark sad became too much.
I told you how letting you gorge on me
Made me feel useful, even if it validated everything he told me.
I don’t care that my body is nothing more than something to be ******
At least I’m doing my friend a favor.
So even if I can’t be happy and healthy right now,
And even if you know that,
At least we can see each other for what we are
As I let you feed his desires for me,
And you let me feed my desire for pain.
Jan 19, 2019
Jan 19, 2019 at 10:38 PM UTC
Empty pocket and empty plates;
safely locked it away still it dissipates,
a climber of corpses climbs high to something great,
and the rest of us are buried standing within this fate.
Life wouldn’t be tragic if it wasn’t also funny,
it seems to lose a lot of magic when you lose alot of money.
Life’s a ***** but isn’t she powerful?
It’s time to eat the rich because we weren’t born full.
The people’s scale is forever weighing
basic human rights against complete anarchy.
The right choice seems obvious to me, obviously,
but the indecision’s crazy with the lack of priorities.
A climber of corpses climbs high to heights we’ll never see,
I’d rather be a stone than those doing the stoning.
Life wouldn’t be tragic if it wasn’t also funny,
I think that I’ve had it with their vinegar disguised as honey.
I won’t make another stitch in their golden wool,
it’s time to eat the rich ‘cause we weren’t born full.
A bullet in the street shot from behind;
validated and woke up millions.
No retreat and not changing their minds;
vilified for targeting their billions.
If they really cared they’d ask if you could buy morality,
though typically they’d see if they could find it on sale.
The funniest part is that they could acquire it for free
but it’d be just like giving an atheist the Holy Grail.
Life wouldn’t be tragic if it wasn’t also funny,
it seems to lose a lot of magic when you lose alot of money.
Life’s a ***** but isn’t she powerful?
It’s time to eat the rich because we weren’t born full.
Life wouldn’t be tragic if it wasn’t also funny,
more bills; they stack it and the weather stays sunny.
Rock bottom in a ditch, dazed and in a lull
now it’s time eat the rich ‘cause we weren’t born full.
Dec 10, 2024
Dec 10, 2024 at 11:46 PM UTC
Love didn’t leave
Hurt just moved in
Got comfortable
evicted kindness
And all good feelings
Left you numb and Cold blooded
Your emotions validated it
And now your heart feels it
A victim of your own insecurity you are
But you are the one who invited the pain
You hid when it was time to stand
Now you drown in your own agony
Looking in the mirror while talking to your own
Enemy
May 5, 2018
May 5, 2018 at 3:06 PM UTC
I am a child of truth
one not blinded by belief or whim
my vision is luminous with veracity
I am a daughter of science
the proven
there is pride in this
the authenticity of my perception
I see the world in all colors
not the black and white of sin and virtue
I judge the world on the confirmed and validated
my value is in the clarity of possibilities
and the assessment of the affirmed
but for however meritorious I may grant this view to be
is such sight of pure moral?
it burdens to recognize I am the only control in my world
there are none in my eyes with ultimate or immortal reign
the only fate I view is individual and collective ends
I wish I could have faith
perhaps the pain would ease
at the thought of another with power in control
knowing my actions are not my work
but the results of a larger set of hands
but how hideous is it of me to say such filth
to long to believe
but be supposedly unable to feel gods
I consider it disrespectful to those who do
so I keep to my facts
my deafening, blinding, muting visual certainties
but what if I am wrong?
after all, there are more colors in the universe
than those of which we see
Jul 18, 2014
Jul 18, 2014 at 12:19 AM UTC
(Authors note: I realize this is more short story than poem. I hope you find it poetic as well. Apologies in advance if this is not an appropriate forum.)
Have You Seen This Girl ?
I sat sleepy eyed one morning enduring yet another cardboard and treebark bran flavored bowl of breakfast with milk, 2 percent of course, and I stared at the carton.
First I reviewed the measures of various fat content, and nutritional values listed as a matter of law. And as usual, I thought of you. This time by way of pondering the plight of the American Dairy Farmer and remembering it was the “corporatizing” of the independent dairy farms which led your family to other uses for the land they had raised dairy cows on for over a century. And I missed you terribly.
To quickly shake the associated feelings of loneliness, and your face from my mind, I was drawn to the deep dark eyes of the child who was missing and apparently exploited on the other side of the carton. She had innocent, kind eyes that indicated she wouldn't even harm an insect. Curious eyes that would watch an insect for hours as it munched on grasses and leaves she fed it.
She would be two years grown and two years older since last seen in blue jeans and a t-shirt in Amarillo, Texas, in the company of her biological father who was possibly armed, dangerous, and driving a pickup truck towards Mexico. Or Canada.
And it struck me. You needed to be on the side of a milk carton. 2 percent of course. At some point in our life together, you had been kidnapped. Whoever was responsible had gone to a lot of trouble to replace you, to carefully drop you right back into my life. It was a great attempt but finally my belief that the real you would never do the things you did to me were validated. You had the misfortune of actually having an “evil twin” and corporatized or not, it seemed only the Dairy Council could help, since there is no Center For Missing and Exploited Adults.
Big red letters screaming “Have You Seen This Girl ? ” were what we needed now. God knows I had recent photos, and could describe all of your features-distinguishing or not.
I think tomorrow, I'll have French Toast.
Licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 3.0 United States License. Based on my work at www.emotionalorphan.net.
Dec 11, 2009
Dec 11, 2009 at 9:13 PM UTC
You love my light, but can you embrace my darkness?
My madness, my neurosis, my insecurities?
You love my laugh, but can you love my tears and my scars and my pain as deeply as you love my joy?
You're willing to bask in my glistening iridescent infinite divine red aura splattered in gold tones...but will you be there when I'm unable to lift myself from the abyss of my ever churning, ever condemning, overthinking mind?
You want to celebrate my successes, but are you willing not to be overly critical of my failed attempts?
Are you willing to encourage me and believe in me when I can't do it for myself?
I'm simultaneously
happy and sad,
hot and cold,
unfettered and bound,
knowing and ignorant,
open and closed,
sure and unsure,
deep and shallow,
obsessed and unconcerned
...can you handle that?
Can you handle me?
Is it too dizzying of a realization that every part of me has a deep opposing counterpart?
Will you stay?
Will you leave? If so- I've just given you permission to do whatever you feel that you need...
You can't have my light without my darkness. You can't have my joy and discard my pain. You can't have my sanity without my insanity. You can't gather the things that you like and discard the ugly parts, further fragmenting my already fragmented soul...
Every part of me longs to feel the warmth of the sun
Every part of me longs to shown off like a most prized possession
Every part of me longs to be nurtured and cared for and protected and validated
Not by everyone- but by YOU
I don't need them. I just need you
Every part of me longs to be seen by you
felt by
loved by
You.
Every. Part.
See my heart, taste my thoughts, feel the colors of my memories
Into me see
Intimacy
~KiCo!
Jan 5, 2018
Jan 5, 2018 at 10:48 AM UTC
optimists and pessimists
need each other
to diffuse
their respective
perspectives.
pessimists
get too helpless.
they feel
everything is on them.
it starts to feel
like they think they're Atlas,
or Sisyphus.
pushing their boulder up
the mountain, forever
and ever
alone.
some inferiority complexes
border on narcissism.
optimists get too helpful.
they burn so hot
they forget that sometimes
they can be as useless
as the pessimists feel.
most people that want
to be positive, surround
themselves with positive
people. and negativity
vice versa.
this creates delusion.
it makes happy people
seeing all that's happy
and unhappy people
seeing all that's unhappy.
no one group feels
for the other
and neither ends up feeling
anything
completely.
you put yourself in
a position where all your
input contains a consistent
confirmation of your stale,
untested outlook.
if nothing is tested, nothing
is validated.
that's just science.
surround yourself with
people that diffuse you.
you need that
tension.
if nothing else,
you won't get
bored.
Nov 3, 2013
Nov 3, 2013 at 6:39 AM UTC