To oneself. How have you accomplished that?

I’ve spent my life only trying to dedicate myself to someone else. Anyone else.

How else could I escape my own void? My own guilt. My own failures.

By burying into you.

I break my own heart.

Everyday I refuse to step forward, to step up, to GET UP; it is my own self I betray. My own self I let down.

I have not gone far, but I have gone low. I have stayed still and stagnant so long, maybe I could set a record after all.

This isn’t depression. This is comfortable. This is nothing.

This is fear.

Fear to try, to be, to fail. Fear of the process- even though that is always the best part.

Excuses fuel my “inability” to move forward in any direction. Creatively, emotionally, financially.

Disappointment is what I feel. Desire to change is present but being ever so slightly buried deeper and deeper beneath my fear.

We choose what we give power to.

You can see what I give power to.

It is not to myself.


How many times will I want to die?

The amount is infinite.

My heart is a graveyard of past lovers and friends.

Haunting each string that’s pulled.
Highlighting each strength I hold, each pain that jabs.

Betrayals and crosses.
They don’t belong here anymore.

How long will this life keep me in its grips?

When will I find the strength to grip back?

The answer is unknown.


Maybe the words we find will always be less than the feelings we hold.

Will we ever learn?

Find the path between the obstacles of ourselves?

I am exhausted and this is for me. For me and from me.

Maybe we hold onto ideas more so than the actual grip of what reality holds for us.

Comparing back not to what was but to what we thought it might be. What we thought it could become.

Letting go will always be my greatest accomplishment.

To let go.

Of love. Of memories. Of thoughts and desires. Anger, most of all.

Will I ever learn?

I think these words have been written before. Spoken before. Typed before.

These are not revelations, no new sights.

These are diaries. Further explorations of what lingers for what lingers is not what has been accomplished. Not what has been fought.

What pours out of you? Are you spitting with fire & running with dust?

I’m sitting in puddles and holding my words. Passionless as I slip.

I see lists in my mind of things to do, things I should do, things to bring me back to myself and beyond what used to be her.

I sit and I stare, embarrassed to try. Unwilling to let fear fuel me and instead letting it overtake. Making my decisions- choosing to not.

I’ve always been the one to rebel and I have always rebelled against myself.
Making my own life increasingly less satisfying as I refuse to better my situation in ways that are not only tangible but beneficial in every way.

I fight against myself and I fight against the advice of others.

My mindset truly tells me, no you do not deserve to try. No, you do not deserve better, you are here where you are and here you will stay.

Admitting this does not make me strong, it does not make me aware. Strength is movement and awareness is fuel.

Stagnant, I am.

I do know it’s up to me. To change, to do, to be. It is up to me.

Comparisons are a death sentence to your heart and your mind. And here, I allow my ambitions to be diminished because I refuse to see myself over others.

I want to end this with inspiration and hopefulness, and while I don’t feel hopelessness, I also do not want to try. Still.



It’s fair in fact that vulnerability breeds a bit of sadness in the soul.

Though making you bold, it also feels like weakness in the way that you squish a bug with your finger tip- feels of my feelings in your hands.


While often a mark of strength and growth, vulnerability has a way of letting the ego rear it’s ugly face in the moments of love and care.

Where we should be showing compassion and understanding, it is too frequently an easier solution to respond with annoyance and frustration.

I see the emotions come out in myself and while fierce and strong, I recognize them as emotions not true to what I hold within my heart and my mind.

Instead I see them as feelings of weakness in that they allow me to short cut the situation by sticking within myself and my own beliefs rather than exploring the reality that my partner, friend, colleague is valid in their thoughts and feelings as well.

These relationships do not deserve the bitterness that resides in my bones, nor the annoyance that I allow to fluctuate in my responses.

I recognize myself in these moments as a woman without control over what she is doing. Lacking the strength to feel and see what is beyond her own self.


I am thankful for the patience those who love me instill within me. So rarely responding to me as I have to them.


My largest goal as of now is to work consciously towards the way I react and respond to those around me. More so those I love, as they are often the ones to receive my wrath should it occur.

So thank you, to those who know and those who listen. Those who love.

I will continue to work towards my best self for not only me, but for you as well.


Really, we’re all in our own heads. There’s no sharing this or that with what’s contained within.

We all (and I mean me) push and push, sometimes for things we aren’t even sure about. Is it a push for power or a push against anxiety? The question remains the same.

I’ve fought and fought and remained complacent.

I’ve discovered and renewed and remained the same. Continued with destruction as if the day did not explode with the same tracks before.

Is it a fight for power or a fight against anxiety?

The question remains just as the behavior refuses to change.

A cop out full of disgust. Weakness disguised as decision. A fucking sheep in a wolf. The opposite.

Maybe we destroy ourselves for guidance, inspiration, new skin, new views, something beyond what the fuck is now.

Chicago on 35mm film


There are more peculiar things than what you’ve already seen. Broader seas than the depths you believe to be ‘too deep’.

Insanity – we know the spiel. Same and same and expectance and the same. Insanity.

Migration proves itself throughout history as not only a reaction but a reason.
A cure.

Diaspora. Hegira. Exodus.

The passage not only to, but from.

And here I remain.

Remaining for fear, for comfort, for happiness I still have yet to create for myself.
Here I still remain.

When does history stop being made and start being repeated?
Here, there, and back again- forward always, and always circular.
What we’re really asking is, what pushes those driven by fear to break that chain?

Where is the epiphany?
Are they weak? Broken? Not worthy of what they have made worth of?

Where does their next page lie?
“Why, in their own hands, I assume.”

See, no one saves anyone around here.

We break our own chains or we die fighting against them while bringing us to a new version of ourselves in which history is dead and we are new.

Not repeating. No longer circular.

So again, the question changes:
What are our chains?
What holds us tightest?

That is what needs to break. To expand. To excel.

Exceed past the comfortability of our realm.