Changes

Cut my hair to become anew- I’m still me.
Colored the shit to feel something- my feelings remain.
Fear can disguise itself as courage. It does every day.
Pain can disguise itself with smiles and movement. We do it everyday.

Feelings of light and love and comfort flutter my soul as of late.
My fear is hiding, my pain has so no place these days.

Blessings of sincerity and honesty have been absorbed into my veins and pour out of my pores.I have been given a gift.

Two months ago, I felt the tides shift. I felt within me that this was something new. That someone new was coming and that they were here.

I found you. You found me.

Luck is luck but this is real. Reality in love and light and something I can fucking grasp. Something I can fucking scream about and not be told to hush.

Someone who wants me purely as me and no one else. Me as me and no one else. Not too much. Not too extra. Me.

Something that sounds generic though is everything but. Loose plans for the future, tight visions of growth.

And I fucking swear I won’t be in a place without this kind of strength again. Without this solid belief of what I am and who I’m with. Truly and fully. This life is too short to waste time with those you know aren’t right for you. And they don’t have to be bad to be wrong for you. This isn’t a game we play on paper. This is a life we live- together and separate, we are living this and doing this and you better fucking make it worth your while. We may get more than one life but this is the only one you’ll get that’s like this. Take that shit.

I’m not over here to be a sap ass baby and get all mush mushy on my love life but goddamn I’ve never felt so appreciated, so secure and so genuinely loved by another. Someone who gets excited to learn me even when the parts they’re learning aren’t the best parts. They are happy to be here, with me, as I am with them.

Thank you universe and thank you to myself. For listening to my gut & to the universe and knowing when the time to leap is happening and knowing when your guard is no longer relevant.

Love is real.

So maybe I don’t need to change my hair to be me. To feel in control. I’m in control every day when I wake up and brush my teeth. I’m in control every evening when I make my food instead of buying it. I am in control when I write this instead of simply thinking it.

I am me. I am forever growing, always learning and unconditionally loving you.

Cheers.

Me- Here and Now

It’s so interesting- being the person you were, you thought you were, you think you can be and who you will actual be all rolled up into who you are. Right now and right here, this presence you feel with yourself- that is you. 

I’ve been feeling so envious as of late. Envy growing and growing, every day.

I just was too embarrassed to ask for ketchup so I asked for sriracha and now my tongue hurts and it’s still not moist enough so I feel like I need more sriracha but then my tummy will hurt. Why can’t I just ask for ketchup?

I’m watching Netflix in a coffee shop because it makes me feel better than watching it in bed- but I’m also writing this and I wouldn’t be doing that in bed.
Edit- I’m doing this to distract from the fact that I’m watching Netflix in a coffee shop… I can only stare at my screen for so long before it’s suspect.

My god.

I used to only come here for the pups. Now I come here for other things. Also I can get off from two macchiatos all day long. Only one today though.

I’ve been here for twenty minutes and I’m ready to go.

Okay- one more macchiato.

They don’t know my name but they know my face. That still works for me. As long as it’s familiar and kind- it’ll work. Though I’m always looking for some spontaneity to hit me in the face. Spontaneity is one of those things that you can’t have time to think about. If you think about it, if you have time- it is no longer spontaneous, it is planned. Even the shittily planned is still planned. How do we avoid that? We get slapped in the fucking face with spontaneity. You feel it- you do it. You think it- you do it. You have it- you take it.

There are boxes we put ourselves in and boxes we put others in. I had someone tell me one time that I need to put people in boxes. Compartmentalize their souls is what I understood from this. Put boundaries on the ones you claim to love in order to keep yourself from diving in too deep. Can’t dive into a box. Can barely explore in there. I don’t want a heart full of boxes. I want love and light and teeny tiny holes where darkness and light alike are permitted to seep and stray- to and from. I don’t want my people in boxes. I want them free to roam every inch of my heart and soul, to discover new meanings and new realms. Introduce me to myself why don’t you?

Then there are the boxes we put ourselves in. Created always out of fear. Sustained only out of comfort.

I see someone I don’t want to see walk through the door- why are you always where I am? I don’t like you. Never did. Glad I don’t have to hide it anymore.

The boxes we create for ourselves do not aid in our expression, they do not aid in our growth. What they do is create a comfy safe haven where all is always and nothing is changing. Stop punishing yourself. Create a circle and see what real never-ending passion feels like. Destroy your box and feel the burn you imagine.

Basically, here I am, fake preaching in a coffee shop that is also a dog park. I haven’t pet a dog and I am still watching Portlandia in the background. I never got my ketchup but sriracha is still yummy and there are napkins to catch my nose slobber. The macchiatos are working. Number two is always a good idea. Espresso makes me feel like I’m on drugs- but like drugs I actually need. I’m still not on my anti-meds because my insurance doesn’t kick in until 6/1 and I’m honestly just seeing how I ride it out.

That’s my update and this is my post. These are my current thoughts and my actions too. Less emotion today but in a good way. I feel somewhat balanced but still- as always- all over the place.

Till next time.

Her

Another year, we are still here.

Clarity in my days that continue to the next. Strength in my nights that never seem to end. My memories with no boundaries, only growth; they fuel me. Just as you do, all of you. You who reaches out with words like, “I feel this more than you could ever know.” Words that say, “Thank you and I love you.”

My nights that turn to mornings, moon to sun. Still here, eyes open & heart soaring. The let go of any envy piled throughout the day, all fear and fight that I gained- I release. I release because my nights are for flying and I can’t carry this weight in my clouds.

Sleep is both my cure & curse. Curing my mind of thoughts, cursing my mind to never want to leave. I stay up late to prevent my curse which also prevents my cure. Two wrongs making something. Something between numb and zealous.

Someone come at me with something that surpasses more than it matches. Surprising instead of expecting. I need to take my head out of the internet and put it back in the trees. Flooding with chirps of life and worms from dirt. I want spider webs in my face and dirt under my nails. Sweat in my crevices and grit in my teeth. Mother nature is the only real cure. She is the only thing that will bring us back.

I hope to push myself further than I have. To fight harder than I could imagine. This is my goal for now and for what’s to come. I am breathing deeply only to inhale hope and exhale doubts. My doubts of others, my doubts of myself. My fears that what I give could not make it back around.

I believe in me and I believe in you. I believe in Her and what She will always fight to bring us. I believe in the strength that we have to replinish everything that we need, everything that we believe and everything that we fight for.

All i have is love to give. Everything else, I just have to release.

Deep breaths. In, then out.

Sometimes Silent; Always Here

I’m still here and I swear to god, I am still fucking fighting. You see, I don’t have a weak bone in my body. That’s just a mask my depression wears. And in my darkness- this I know.

See I haven’t been writing because I’ve lost words to say. To you, for you, about you. How do I write for me and not for you? All of you. How do I stay strong when my mind has weakened. From lack of love of self. From lack of belief in myself. From not creating, not adventuring, not being who I am meant to be because some times, a lot of the times- I don’t see her. She almost doesn’t exist because I’ve hidden her so far away. For protection maybe, out of fear most likely.

My heart is tattered, but who’s isn’t? There is no strength without the fall. There is no progress without failure. This we know but love to ignore. Suicide has been a theme song in my heart as of late. Wishes of death but never the imagination to do so myself. I’d take a bus to the body perfectly fine though.

I don’t know why I am here really. I’m not really sure where I’m going or what my path is. I can’t see it- I’m too clouded. I’m learning more and more truth about my mind every day and I do not believe it to be well. I do not think that the way I am living is the way this life is meant to be lived. My soul won’t allow me to believe that this way I feel, this way I think, that this is how I am meant to live. Meant to move forward. See I can’t move forward like this. I can’t find myself with depression and self hate drowning every other thought that flutters into my eyes.

I do not wish to romanticize this, I never would want that but I can no longer avoid speaking on these thoughts and feelings. I can no longer shovel down how I know I feel. I know that I am worthy, but I do not feel it. That is okay but it is really not at the same time.

And you see I’ve turned my friends into my therapist. Blurting out stories of disgusting traumas that I can only imagine no one wants to hear, I definitely don’t- but alas I live with them. I’ve turned alcohol into my prescription and any person who’s close & around my therapist, my hear all, know all, speak none. It’s unfair and I know this. I don’t want to hurt the one’s I love with the lows that I feel, the lows that I carry. It is not fair. But I also can not do this alone. I can not. I can not. No one can. No one is meant to do this alone. No one is meant to fight alone, to live alone, to fucking LOVE alone. We are all connected.

I understand that not all traumas can be handled by others, that not all stories can be stomached by those who did not experience them but I have to say, and I will forever repeat, I will be your non speaking ear. I will be the silent therapist that you don’t have. I will listen, stomach and digest any and every trauma you need to release. I can be that for you because everyone needs someone but we don’t all have that.

To myself and to you, all of you, we are not alone. We are not doomed to live this way. We have choices that are unimaginable but they are there. We have strength buried beneath the clouds, soaring within the ocean. We are all that we need and we can strengthen together.

I am here. I will always be here. I am not going anywhere.

It’s Not You- It Really Is Me

There is really close to no point in me sharing all that I do on here. It’s not as open as it sounds. Raw, only slightly, but I’m shielding a lot. Like how promiscuous I am when I drink. Affection turned to guilt when I wake up in the morning.
I think I’m the one breaking hearts at this point. How the one person I actually care to share parts of me with doesn’t even answer the phone when I call. Doesn’t even reply to a text in the middle of a shallow as fuck conversation.
How I make bonds with people quickly and easily because I’m fiery as fuck and I don’t allow people to be shielded around me, yet I shield everything. I swear it’s seeming more and more like a ruse.

I just finished this book about a guy who used to get off on hurting women. He’d make them fall in love with him just so he could look into their eyes and see their heart break when he felt the moment was right. I don’t see myself doing this but I also don’t think I’m far off. Like let me open up for a day, let you in for the night, let you see depths that you think are the deepest of the deep but I’m sorry to say we have only scratched the surface and that’s as far as you’ll get.

I’ve realized most recently that I am relatively easy to love. Easy to fall for. There’s always something new to learn, to discover, to figure out. Who doesn’t like a little puzzle? A little maze? See I’m not a 24-piece puzzle. You can’t put me together in an hour. See I’m easy to love but hard to keep around. I’m fleeting- more so than I have ever been and as much as I truly love this ability to do so, I hate to think I cause pain on a soul that holds only trust in me. A connection felt but only on one side. I’ve cut myself off from emotional attachment because I can not handle being left. I can’t handle abandonment- not even the idea of it. So I’ll be the one to leave. In secret and silence. Ghosting.

I’m not proud of my actions but I am proud of my progress. My awareness that is clouded but forming roots, forming weight. I have what is needed within myself. And you know I used to just write all this shit in my journal but now I post it on here. To help me feel less crazy? Or maybe to make me feel more crazy, I don’t fucking know anymore. I don’t know but I do know.

I guess that makes me the shallow one. To only let someone in toes deep but drown them in words so they think they’re swimming in me but really only being swarmed by distraction. Little tastes of what could be but I won’t allow to transpire. Wake up in the morning a different person because responsibilities are real and if the world ended last night it would be okay because I wouldn’t have to think about it again.

Toxic. I’m the one.

So here we are the morning after and it doesn’t matter who you are, I want you to leave. Fake sleep until you start to stir then it’s all fast movements and no eye contact. Gotta go, gotta go. See nothing happened that night but here you are in my bed and I need you to leave. See something could have happened last night but the gods blessed with me of two seconds of clarity in my drunken stupor and I decided to sleep than do anything else. Thank you lord, I don’t need that shit hanging over me like I give a fuck. (Spoiler alert: I do. More than you all could know.)

I’m an affection junkie. I want to be held but not touched, loved but not known. You can’t know me. You don’t get to touch. You can’t win this way, but I’ll tell you neither can I.

And to the one I actually want to stay. To stick around. To know me and love me and touch me and hold me. Maybe you’re just protecting yourself like I’m protecting mine. Maybe you just want my body because it’s more consistent than my mind. But my heart has always been yours. Excuses, excuses. We always make them for the ones we love or the ones we hate. We always make them. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again. There’s one man who will always be welcome in my bed. In my mind and heart and soul. He won’t always find himself there and I’ll probably build some obstacle to get around but the welcome sign remains. Till next time. When we find each other again or we find something else worth fighting for.

Chill front on 35mm film

The Facade Is Me

My heart is breaking from things that should not break me. My mind is weakened by things that normally strengthen. Maybe I’m allowing myself to falter and bend to things that should not be bent upon. Things that should be seen through but not felt through. Understand but do not give weight.

My heart is breaking from things I have long recovered from. Scar tissue yet again transformed to wound. These words are for no one but me. To fight my barriers of self-sabotage disguised as strength. To let out what I keep in.

It is not the fault of any other, my dissatisfaction. My unhappiness. No, this feat has been created and won by me and only me. I have gained the greatest clarity of self as of late and I will say with great honesty that it is not as shiny as I believe many of you make me out to be. As maybe I have made myself out to be, I am not as great. Not as true. Not as honest as I like to believe.

The honesty I speak of now, is that with self. Being clear enough within mind and soul to not only know when to walk away but to actually do so. To honestly act as truly as you think. As quickly as you feel. And I know it’s okay to recognize these things without such strict disappointment within myself but I can’t help but feel I have back tracked into an area I thought I had long ago dedicated as a distant memory. Though, looking back, I see I was only dismissing the landscape instead of absorbing the winds. Like looking through a glass window with desperation, conceding that it will always be out of reach, when all you had to do was open the window all along. Open the window, kick down the door, do what you have to do. But do not concede. Do not belittle your mind by dismissing your potential and denying your worth. This is suicide of the heart and the mind. Stop killing yourself.

My heart breaks because I can’t stop breaking it. I fake fall for humans without intentions that I relate to. I fake fall but think it’s real and tear myself apart when I realize it’s not. This fault is mine. I give unconditionally until I realize these truths and I cut myself off like a goddamn faucet and that’s something we all notice. How could you not? Searing strength and warmth turned not cold but dry and empty, an illusion like nothing was ever there. I’m the toxic one.

My heart breaks with realizations of who I am and what I do and all of the things I’ve imagined myself to be but lack entirely. Clarity is not mine, not truly. Strength is a figment of what I wish to carry, how I wish to act. I can not end this on a positive note because today, I do not deserve it. I don’t deserve the pat of back or hands held high. On the contrary, I do deserve love. Self love, always and continuing. That I deserve uncondtionally and without question. Maybe next time I’ll have more positive things to share about myself. Maybe next time I won’t be such a coward.

Trash on 35mm film

Misplaced & Dismissed

Where did the idea of protecting our rapists before the raped come from?

Who formed the thought that it’s the job of a woman scorned and burned to educate others of the evils within a man- to speak out so “no one else gets hurt”. These women aren’t the saviors- they are the survivors. They don’t owe anyone anything. They don’t have to speak out and there is no shame or blame to be had if they choose not to. They aren’t endangering the lives of others by keeping their story to themselves. Who is endangering the lives of others is the evil humans who do these unimaginable acts. The one’s protected by laws and money. The men who have no shame in their actions- who see no wrong in their force.

It is not the job of a woman to look out for a man- though we are taught everyday to be alert- aware- on guard in case of attack. In case a man comes along that can not control his urges, his mind. We are taught that we are weaker than men, yet we are solely responsible for our own protection against them. We teach women to cover up instead of teaching men to respect bodies- life- love.

Women are not responsible for educating anyone on the evils of another. Women are responsible for their own survival and protection- who else will do it? The only one’s who can protect others from evil are the evil doers themselves. When will we begin to teach good upon evil instead of showing evil upon the good? When will we teach kindness onto men instead of defense onto women? When will we coexist fully and truly? Without expectation of what should be done and what is done. What should be does not exist. We have what is and that is all. When will we begin fighting for that?

Telling a woman to speak out in order to protect others is misplaced blame from the rapist to the raped. Telling a woman to speak out so she can protect others is a dismissal of her own truth. Her own trauma. Her story. She’s is not here to protect. She is here to survive. To fight. To live. Instead of telling women to speak out, to cover up, to be aware- why don’t we teach men not to rape. Not to take. Not to force.

When will this balance come. When will the protection of women be seen as a worldwide goal instead of something reserved solely for the women who have been cut and sewn. The responsibility of the ones who have seen evil. Who have felt evil. Bled evil.

When?

A woman of true strength & power on 35mm film