Thank you, Libby from 2-D Design for that advice; I don’t think you know how tightly I will forever hold onto that little gem.
It is my new worry stone, tucked deep into the miniature watch pocket of my favorite faded blue jeans.
When I am doubtful, unsure, and feel like I can’t meet my own goddamned unreasonable expectations, I pull this pale little gem out (in my mind’s eye) and run my fingers over the smooth surface of it’s comfort.
“Done is better than perfect.”
Most people won’t even take the time to do the damned thing. It’s the same sentiment as “You’re lapping everyone who is on the couch.”
Just doing it is the battle.
Do what you can. Do your best. And move the fuck on.
from me to you.
It seems that the only time that I want to talk to you is when my life is awry and I need the open ear of no one and everyone all at once.
I am a mess.
Do I tell you that I have been trying to find the right anti-anxiety medication for weeks since complications with my usual one and now it just feels like a really fucked up guessing game?
My 4.0 GPA is waving goodbye as my social anxiety sets in making my ADD less manageable, my work less quality and my attendance less likely. I have spent the whole class period in the parking lot of the school with my hands firmly gripped on the steering wheel unable to convince myself to enter the building. I find every reason to put off the assignments until sheer panic sets in and I frantically try to come up with something that looks presentable.
But then I should be doing homework right now, shouldn’t I? 😳
It has been so long since I’ve written that it feels like I have lived a hundred lives & changed a thousand times.
My opinions on life and love and hate and drugs and mental illness and sanity and God and the universe and my past and my future all seem to ebb and flow unruly as the sea.
Today I am new. Today I am different. I may not always make new choices, but how I think on them will be.
Each grain of sand collecting together, building what will have been my life.
“Hi! Just wanted to say that you have a phenomenal smile.”
“Thanks! It’s my dad’s!”
I didn’t say that. I didn’t say anything at all. I don’t respond to anyone on dating websites. I’m not ready to date, you know that…
I am so tired of being chastised for that word.
Goddamn. Goddamned. Goddamns. Goddamnit.
I am not damning God. I love God. Or the universe or whatever that essence is.
I use it out of frustration… as in, “God, if there is a hell, send this __________ there.”
I am asking for his help with smiting. I am not angry AT him. I am angry WITH him.
Why is that so hard to understand? Especially if I were praying to the Christian God… isn’t that his jam? Paying back those who won’t accept him?
It is 1:00 in the morning and I am only on my 5th Orange Henry’s Hard Soda. My buzz is barely stable, if you can even call it a “buzz”.
I’m not pissing and moaning about Ty so that is a good start but is religion any better?
I did get invited to a party tonight, so that was fun…
Cassidi & I showed up at like 10:30- which is when the “par-tay” usually gets “krunk” (or do they not use that one anymore?😬) Anyways, once we arrived we quickly realized that we were nearly a decade older than everyone there… which means that more than likely there was some underage drinking…
…so we boot-scoot and boogied our way out of there and back to my madre’s hizzy to kick it with her and chillax for the night. (Don’t I sound cool?)
Bedtime. 🌙 1:52 AM
A dear friend told me that I don’t have to create amazing prose each time that I sit here to write you. It’s difficult, you see, because I don’t really know what this is. It is a hobby, for sure. It is a form of self-expression that I tend to use when I am feeling blue or have a funny story. But I don’t feel like I can stop by and write unless I have something worth reading.
Someone recently said to me, “I was reading your diary online and…”
My diary? Oh shit… Is that what this is? I mean, I don’t keep a diary. I wish I did. But I guess I really don’t hold back when I am writing you. So this could be a diary. I feel like you wouldn’t be here if you didn’t want to know. And I wouldn’t be sharing if I didn’t want you to know.
I want to make this more frequent. I will try and write at least once a week from now on, not leave you hanging on for so long. Not that you are hanging on in anyway, but, here you are… still reading my nonsensical bullshit. haha.
Peace & Love
These are not my poems. But they have resonated with me lately. I hope they speak to you and touch your soul like they have mine.
After a While by Veronica A. Shoffstall
After a while you learn
the subtle difference between
holding a hand and chaining a soul
and you learn
that love doesn’t mean leaning
and company doesn’t always mean security.
And you begin to learn
that kisses aren’t contracts
and presents aren’t promises
and you begin to accept your defeats
with your head up and your eyes ahead
with the grace of woman, not the grief of a child
and you learn
to build all your roads on today
because tomorrow’s ground is
too uncertain for plans
and futures have a way of falling down
After a while you learn
that even sunshine burns
if you get too much
so you plant your own garden
and decorate your own soul
instead of waiting for someone
to bring you flowers.
Dear Woman by Michael E. Reid
You’ll just be too much woman,
Too smart,Too strong.
Too much of something
That makes a man feel like less of a man,
Which will start making you feel like you have to be less of a woman.
The biggest mistake you can make
Is removing jewels from your crown
To make it easier for a man to carry.
When this happens, I need you to understand,
You do not need a smaller crown –
You need a man with bigger hands.