Creative Writing · Depression · Free Write · Poetry · Pondering · Writing

What am I?

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What am I?

A mass of memories

Firing between cells

Billions of rows of suffering

And multiplying by the wayside


What am I?

A cold person

Walking through the hallway

Down the street

Another face to pass 


What am I?

They called me a woman

Still I took off my shirt

They said the streets are for men

And that I would get hurt


What am I?

A soul wandering

Never satisfied

There is no home for those

That can not find comfort


And I know you will run from me…


What am I?

They asked

A five year plan

Or a family

These are the things you will be remembered by


Not by the quiet firefly

Or by the blades of grass you felt between your toes

Not the wind in your face

On the playground

Or in the field on your own


The sun will be the only one to remember your face

The billions of passerbys

Just stopping to say hello

Melancholy · Pondering · Prose · Writing

Thoughts…

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Lately I’ve been feeling really down and I have been trying to figure out why. What I have realized is that no matter how hard I try I am not fucking normal. And it’s really hard for me to live in the world and do things the way I am supposed to do. The 9-5 thing isn’t really for me and I never last long when I try to make it so. I don’t know if I will ever be able to function in that sort of life.  I don’t really party and I don’t have kids and it seems like I am supposed to fit on either end of that spectrum. But I don’t. I don’t go to church and I really don’t want to. I’m not running marathons or hiking every weekend. Wtf is there for a misfit like me? Sometimes I feel really lonely and I consider having a relationship again but I go back to one of the above categories. It’s about kids or church or alcohol or athletics. Is there anyone out that that will love me when I don’t want any of those things? I’m starting to think that in Utah there isn’t.  I’ve got to be into one of those 4 things to be attractive to someone local. Perhaps I need to leave. I really don’t know…. I am into thinking. Philosophy and science. Meeting and helping people. Looking at the stars in the middle of the night and thinking about how we all came from space. Imagining other worlds and playing fantasy scenarios. I like making up an ideal world even though I know it will never exist. I want to see the world and serve on medical missions. I want to build my own self sustaining home and fill it with art and have cats and dogs and llamas and chickens for fresh eggs. I want someone to do these things with but I do not think there is anyone for me. So maybe I will build my own home and explore the world by myself. And love animals and people and give when and where I can. I just know I need and want so much more than this everyday existence. My life is more than clocking in and out. I do not and refuse to ever fit this role. 

Free Write · Poetry · Pondering · Sleepy · Writing

When you forgot about what you started last night…

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Sometimes I drive through the city at night.

There is no reason or purpose.

The smell of night and I listen in silence.

There is a sadness.

A melancholy.

The kind of moment made of whispers that no one else will hear.

I roll down the street.

The city lights in the distance and all I can think of is you.

You.

And the earth turns gently and with reason even though you are not beside me.

I remember your words. Begging for me.

Please please please you tell me.

You say it like I owe you.

Like I am the one who left.

Flashes of half felt and unmet images pass within me.

I see a funeral.

I see a laugh and a boy I fell in love with.

I see the man I begged to come.

All these things that you will never know and did not care to remember.

In the house on the hill, the home in the hole, the rooms built of stone I found you.

Creative Writing · Free Write · Healing · I Miss You · Melancholy · Personal · Poetry · Pondering · Reflection · Relationships · Sleepy · Writing

I Always Will

I loved you more than any other chosen person in my life.

I still do.

I still miss so many pieces of you.


Sometimes I hear or see something that only you would get.

And I hear your voice echoing in my mind.

I hear your laugh next to me.

It is almost like you are here again.

And all the terrible things you did never happened.

Other times I feel lonely because I know there are

Aspects of this life, of this world that only you and I could ever remember and find special.

There are so many generic things in this world.

Repeats and reproductions.

But you are not one of them, not even close.


You are more special and beautiful to me than words can ever describe.

Trust me, I have tried over and over again for close to a decade.


My only wish after all this time, is that you could somehow see what I could.

Oh how I tred for all these years to give you what will take a lifetime to discover.

I wanted it now and that was selfish of me.

I know that.

But still, I miss you.


I wish everyday that we could have been, should have been…but I am slowly letting that go because I have to for my own sanity.


Please know that when I sit alone at night, wrapped in a blanket or looking up at the stars on a warm summer night that I remember you.


Not the ugly.

Not the lies.

Not the addictions.


I remember the soul I fell in love with.

That person exists.

The goodness you fear and the struggles you tried to hide.

I remember your excitement and your eyes and your pain.

I remember that I loved you purely.


Everyday since the beginning of time and into our next lives, a piece of me will always be waiting for you.

I will love you always, even when I know I must do it from afar  

Creative Writing · Free Write · Melancholy · Poetry · Pondering · Reflection · Writing

Free Write: Exhausted Reflections

I am sorry for being a terrible person. I am sensitive and it is hard for me to exist in this world.

I have a hard time going to work and committing to work and school and jobs.

I hate that part of me. I hate that people can’t trust me.

I am an honest person, I am just tired and out of place.

This feeling persists.

Sometimes it’s easier to stay in bed and not move for hours?

I wish I could explain this…spell it out eloquently and in serenity.

You were beautiful but created  dust.

Creative Writing · Depression · Free Write · Letter · Melancholy · Personal · Pondering · Prose · Reflection · Writing

Lost in the Supermarket

I visit often, mostly just to see you. Sometimes I feel we have a connection. Other times I am unsure if it’s just politeness. I have been hurt a million times and my heart is fragile. Mostly I am okay. I sleep alone. I eat alone. I feel okay on my own. But it’s been two years for me and I miss having a man’s arms around me and feeling enclosed, inside of another. I miss having someone to look forward to. Someone to share life with. Laugh with.

I see you and think, you could be that person. I am not often attracted to others but I feel strangely drawn to you. When we speak, I want to keep talking. To ask you questions about life and death and the universe.  Find out why you love Deftones so much and how I lost my virginity to White Pony. I think if you cared, if you were interested, you would have inquired by now. I have presented ample opportunity for it.


So here I sit writing to no one, or possibly the entire world. I think there is not one for me but that hopeful piece asks, maybe? Still do I wonder at your mysterious aura. I think about you as I walk away to my car again. I like to imagine you looking back or at least wanting to, and maybe even you wonder of me too…


More likely we will continue to pass each other in this market. Red shirt and a basket in my hand. I will smile and you will smile but go on in our own ways.


“I’m all lost in the supermarket
I can no longer shop happily
I came in here for that special offer
A guaranteed personality”

—-name that band

Anger · Free Write · Personal · Poetry · Pondering · Relationships

WTF

I sit here wondering what the fuck is wrong with me.

I mean it seriously, am I really a terrible person?

I can only imagine that answer is yes.

What kind of pathetic woman am I?

I get left by men for taller, skinnier people.


Every. Damn. Time.


What the hell am I supposed to think of that?

It is too coincidental to happen again.


The problem is me. It is always me.

The constant factor.

The known variable.

Excuse me while I hide in my corner and pretend to not be alive anymore.


You told me you loved me.

You told me you cared.

But I am still here alone

and I see you smiling with her.