Amber’s Attempt at Adulting

my sun doesn’t shine and my moon doesn’t rise without you.

No twinkling lights splatter across the inky abyss, no meteors soar or stars shoot.

Your love makes me certain that there are bits of heaven tucked away in this hellscape.

It gives me hope and makes me sing louder, dance harder.

We melt together when we hold each other; the flesh surrounding us is warm and soft and tender, but it keeps us farther apart than we care to be.

Luckily our souls know no such bounds & our energies collide.

And I am safe.

I am full.

I am seen & elevated & made more by and for your love.

A Letter to Agnes DeMille by Martha Graham

There is a vitality, a life force, a quickening
that is translated through you into action,
and because there is only one of you in all time,
this expression is unique.

If you block it,
it will never exist through any other medium
and be lost.
The world will not have it.
It is not your business to determine how good it is;
nor how valuable it is;
nor how it compares with other expressions.
It is your business to keep it yours, clearly and directly,
to keep the channel open.

You do not even have to believe in yourself or your work.
You have to keep open and aware directly
of the urges that motivate you.

Keep the channel open.
No artist is pleased.
There is no satisfaction whatever at any time.
There is only a queer, divine dissatisfaction;
a blessed unrest that keeps us marching
and makes us more alive than the others.

i’m asunder.

do write even if i have nothing of value to say?

writing for write’s sake.

I miss you when we’re apart, sweet bloggy.

what shall I say to soothe the swelling in my soul to share?

do i describe the apathy required to exist in this current hateful world?

i’ll spare you.

I think that the entire reason I worked to get my degree was to fight my imposter syndrome.

I had to achieve a bachelors of fine arts from a state university before I could really say that I’m an artist.

Now I don’t believe that for other people… not in the least. Anyone can be an artist.

I guess the difference is that I know where I came from. “i’m polished white trash“ I just always joke. Maybe i’ve been recycled.

I think I needed that stupid piece of paper to take myself seriously. So now I can really say it. I am a trained artist!

But it feels strange; I wish it were more comfortable.

Maybe I’ll grow into it.

Is not the thought I want to have while wearing a menstrual cup and no panties.

Each clear, fine night the Moon glows her bright beaming reflection onto the surface of the Sea. Most nights the Sea gleams the light back and they quietly smile & whisper to one another.

But the Sea isn’t steady like the Moon. The Moon is older and wiser than the Sea. She already knows her importance and place on high. The unruly Sea tosses and turns, ever changing and feeling like she is too much for this world, too watery, too deep. This troubles the Moon.

Wanting to keep her companion shining too, the Moon takes a great, deep breath and inhales a passing Cloud; when she blows it out, the Sea swirls beneath her feeling dizzy and moved. As the Moon exhales the Cloud forms a dense, heavy, warm Fog.

And it is fate; the Fog loves the Sea. She recognizes herself in the Sea. And the Sea feels at peace and seen in the Fog. The Fog listens more closely and holds the Sea ever nearer; cheek to cheek they sway until the Sun rises and they can hold each other no more.

Each day the Sea waits for her lover to hold her ever near. And the Moon smiles.

Love of my life

what happened?

why us?

what did we do?

could it be true?

are we the special few? 

are we the lucky ones?

“I’ll respect your opinion until it disrespects someone’s existence.”

“The place you suffer is the exact place you care desperately.” -Susan Cain TED 2019

How do you possess the universe in your eyes? Those glowing marbles beaming up at me.

Ocean filled fractions of blue light shining on and seeing through all that I am and ever will be.

It should not feel uncomfortable when my mom texts me “i miss you” but it does. Because she loves me, but doesn’t like me as a person.

Beautiful you, full of grace and good, makes the sun rise each morning with a brighter, softer glow.

I love you more than flours in the cakes

I love you sweeter than honey the bees make

I love you brighter than rays of the sun

I love you further than motors run

I love you bigger than the universe expands

I love you countless as all the grains of sand

I love you up, i love you down.

i love you together, and when no one is around.

I love you big, I love you wide.

I love you fearlessly, i love you with pride.

I love you now, I love you then.

I’ll love you even when this world ends.

My soul will know yours, wherever we land.

Even in the next galaxy, I’ll be holding your hand.

I avoid discussing issues that I have with my mother because I know that I may say things to hurt her feelings.

But she isn’t going to read this anyways and it’s cathartic for me.

So I’m not going to hold back anymore.

My mom is a bad mom, not a bad person.

My mom is a bad mom, not a bad person.

My mom is a bad mom, not a bad person.