I cry thinking about the weight of my heart's capacity, undeniably empathetic. Too open, too shut. The life chosen is always necessity, maybe we just have to find the honesty in that fact first?

it’s weird how my brain gets really numb sometimes, and I can’t think of anything else to say because I just don’t want to speak for days.

I see the horizon,

Once fiery red and passionate orange,

Decay into cold blue and numb black.

Hark the days of old times

Past; the energy that precedes

The inevitable twilight.

It was your movements and your touch.

The hugs where you gripped my shoulders.

The times when I was drunk and played with your fingers.

And to have heard you say ‘I love you’,

To me;

That’d make my head fuzzy,

Ears buzzing,

Vision go askew.

It would answer questions,

Ask some more.

And leave me with lost intentions.

Because I don’t know how I feel.

You don’t either.

Us, stuck in a maze

Of endless questions and fears and worries and

Excitement. Sending us into a craze.

But I’m left with one feeling,

That it’s upsetting,

Our sun setting,

And me praying for a sunrise.

being myself doesn't take much effort. it's being myself around others that consumes all of my energy, watching them shift and justify their discomfort.

shame is a powerfully motivating emotion, keeping us silent, our shadow-self even further withdrawn, but it can also be a catalyst, gently pulling us along and reminding us we’re worthy, while serving a lesson.

I learned about patience, though you ever seemed to sense frustration. I rediscovered hope, even when it seemed I could breathe only hopelessness. I trusted the next times, because I believe there'd be many. I acknowledged death, because that's how everything ends..

I no longer believe that deeply feeling everything is a curse; I hold more in one finger than most carry in their bodies and my inner world is brimming with cosmos and constellations that flame through the darkness

I haven't felt like myself lately; there are moments that I feel lost, afraid, fragmented, hopeless and abysmal but I do not feel ashamed for feeling intensely. I do not feel guilty, like I did before.

sorry I was quiet when you expected me to say some socially accepted ******* it's just that I was talking to myself you started asking boring questions about trivial things and I wanted to finish the conversation more than I wanted to act like a a normal human being.

How things went well between us. In fact, when we both realized that we were together all this time to witness the evening. You often described me as 'a playful sentiment' which kept on rallying in your heart. And this fondness, like iron and wine entailed a taste of softened beginnings, scented and aromatic: a pilgrim of flowers, which I was compelled to grasp you entirely and hold this charming memory before anything else would visit my mind. What a lovely evening, and the stars were all vibrant enlightening us, and while you were the only thing present in my eyes, it felt like a dream come true.

I never bought into balance, until i realized I’d spent my entire life trying to do it for everyone else, and that the scales were real, and mine was terribly weighted.

do you remember the end of your childhood, that last bike ride around the block, the place in the woods everyone would gather, the feel of youth upon your sleepy head on a summer morning as you ran to play, friends waiting impatiently as you wolfed down a bowl of fruit loops.

you were told you were getting more than most so you should feel special, except you weren’t really getting much more than almost nothing.

seeking souls with throbbing vocabularies, bustling truths, undeniable emotional intelligence and transparent heartstrings.

question what makes you think, what causes you to judge, label, categorize; ask yourself whose beliefs they are, yours or just the ones you learned and never questioned. explore the difficult uncomfortable things

the key might be to expect nothing, ever. that way it’s all surprise, the joy, the sadness, the breaking and recovering, all unscripted and holistically experienced.

it seems that I am at my saddest when I allow hope to rise inside of me. like helium,  already lacking a positive charge.

comfort is:
fleece-lined leggings
a soft pillow to rest my head
the soft hum of the fan’s forever spinning whir
an early dawn, for a few weeks
my pillow snuggled up next to me
health, freedom from being ruled by anxiety, understanding that sometimes sadness has to breathe too.

I think maybe vulnerability is handing someone a knife and being hopeful that they won’t use it, but understanding that they might, and that you’re willingly taking the risk of being stabbed.

people lose themselves in people then have no clue what kind of a person they are because they’re not themselves anymore, instead an amalgamation of someone else’s someone.

kind and honest conversations that create the space for difficult truths without killing spirits or paralyzing hearts

i'm a pessimist because I know that most people are out for themselves and would leave you waiting on the side of an unknown road than accept responsibility for their actions.

they're all lessons. even the ones that you uncertain and raw.

thinking it was Thursday and one day closer to working on becoming a recluse, only to find it's this day, and then another, and another, and another.

maybe some of us would just like people to hold themselves accountable, to apologize when they've hurt us, and to recognize that nothing is one-sided.

the only real life we have is the one we live day to day, not the imagining in our minds, or the years ahead. and still, knowing this, we swallow daydreams as thick as viscous lidocaine, numbing our very essence, and dreaming of someday.

immerse yourself in accomplishment and discovery, fill those spaces that run empty, create the haven you seek.

every year teaches us something; the last two have taught me that sometimes pain serves, other times it severs.

I spent years in deep reflection, analyzing my desire to have a hand to hold onto, only to realize i already had one, attached to my other arm.

Learning to accept my own internal chaos has allowed me peace, and the ability to compassionately understand others’.

i’m grateful for my plants, the stacks and stacks of books that hold me captive, the scent of a warm candle and hot coffee, twinkle lights, geometric art, my intuition, grace, forgiveness, and love.

I've always known who I was, separate from others, accepting of it, learning how to hide those sides of myself to adapt. Life changed, and with time's passing I grew more and more comfortable with my own duality. I am grateful to have a sparse space to share my voice.