Believing in me

I think I am done, but I am not sure how to be. I wasted so much time trying that giving up almost seems like a relief. Still, something is holding me back. I think it has something to do with my memories. Nothing in my past, but current events that haunt me. Preventing me from taking that final step.

I think I am done, but I am not sure how to believe. There is a small part of me that feels something close to relief. As though a big weight has been removed from my shoulders. I can breathe so easily and yet…those final steps are still out of reach.

A Workplace Tango

“I should put a bell around you” I say as you join me in the break room.

But you just smirk and shake your head

Cautiously working your way around where I stand.

I can see my words bother you.

Well they bother me too

Do you know how much courage it took me to admit such weakness

That your very sudden appearance leaves me shaking.

You can try as you might to convince me you are not the type

But I can’t, no I can’t

Because to me you are every guy.

You are him

The one who lied to me and treated me as if I committed the greatest sin

Saying no was my saving grace but it was thrown into my face

Over and over again

Forced by people who leave all because They did not believe.

A liars only excuse was love because I was never enough

“I should put a bell around you” I whisper as a hold my arms close to my chest

Hiding the fact that I am losing my breath

My chest is hurting and my heart won’t stop

I can see your shaken because you do not understand

But It is ok

Because Neither do I

Healing vibes.

Share a story that has hurt you.

Something that ripped you to tiny piece and made it as though you didn’t not think you would survive.

Share that story, leave out no details, because I have a feeling this will help you heal.

Realize how much you have conqured.

The painful memories you can’t bear to hold.

Just let them go.

Share me a story if your deepest fear. Tell it all and leave out no details.

We need to see we are not alone.

K – Kindess

I guess I have overcome a lot in my life. At times this is not really easy to see. I surrounded myself with self defeating imagery in the hopes that it will help me see reason. But it never works.

I know that others have it worse.

I know that I am in a better place.

I know it.

I see it

But that doesn’t always help.

I am so used to it and do not know how to change it. If I am being honest here, I think I need it. I have spent so many years of my life hating myself and others around me that it is pretty much the only way I can tell that I alive.

I think I made a comment about how I am not good with “positive” stories. I do not do love. Or happiness. Or joy. Not unless someone is suffering in someway. I fully admit that this makes me an edge queen and quiet possibly makes me seem a bit immature.

But…this is my therapy. This is how I heal.

I may surround myself with negativity but it is the only way I can used to things.

Send it below or Fucking use it

I remember the day I told my friend that I would use this very qoute from her book. I was maybe 16 and have since lived by it.

My past defines me because it gives me the ability to create this things. I use it. So with my pain, and lonliness, and heartache, and stress, what am I?

So yea…I do not think I would have a purpose without it. I may never ever really get better and I am ok with that.

It is a kindess to believe otherwise and I just do not have the space for that.

Still I respect it all the same.

H _ Holdings

I told you that I was a curse

At worst a mistake

Upon a broken page

Pierced heavily with a holy blade

I am a demon made of sin

Because only the devoted would let me in

I am something to be forgotten

But those words spoken so prettily

Could never be the real me

I wish I was a demon

I wish I was cursed

I wish there was a reason

To leave this earth

Because I need purpose

I don’t want to feel worthless

Because I am not her

I will never be

I am not the key to your heart

You see

But there is nothing else for me

I am not a demon

I am not cursed

And no matter how much it hurts

I am worthless

A purposeless fraud

Just a sad little girl who is lost.

A/N I have not been doing well lately. Kind of depressed…ok fine, loads of depressed. All of the depressed please and thank you. I can tell you how it started buut I rather not. Since I still want to keep doing the challenges I will devote this week to the emotional drama that is my mind. Chemical imbalances for the win.

For those who do not like this kind of stuff all is well. I am only allowing myself a week to do these types of poems. After that I will save my innermost emo ness for outside of the challenge post. Because truly would I really be me if I didn’t debby downer the world.

Back in my day…

As a child I read a lot of books that were probably really bad for me. Romance novels, mystery novels, novels where someone important died at end and I was to little to realize that crying over fictional characters would get me laughed at as I aged. I am totally over that though, no hard feelings towards people who made fun of my…well.. my feelings. I am going on a tangent here…

See, back in my day romance had a different flavor. I was to little to understand how authors battled each other for the spotlight. To me they wrote for the fun of it and weren’t oppressed by societies expectations. They did not feel the same pain us lowly untalented plebs went through. It was until I was older that I learned any differently but still I drowned myself in the worlds of others. Teaching myself to see through their eyes with a greater understanding then my peers. I wanted to witness love from places reality could not touch.

So is it any wonder that I feel in love with R.L Stine‘s Fear Street Series.

Yes, I know what you are thinking “R.L Stine isn’t a romance writer”. In this you would be correct but the thing is romance written for children and young adults do not look the same for romances for adults. We get things like Hunger Games, Twilight, Looking For Alaska, Remember me, and Green Angel. Books that may have some romantic elements but cover a wide range of other genres. These are our introductions into the world of romance. As adults we will get to read books that are actually centered about the idea of love but until then we are traumatized into thinking that the dude with the murder boner for innocent people is our fated mate.

So yea, I got my twisted ideas of romance on the lap of the dude who gave us Goosebumps.

Back in my day bad boys ruled the world. The badder the better. I feel in love with the maniac murderer because he was the only one to treat the protagonist with any sort of kindness. I mean sure, he shot some dude in the face but true love concurs all. OK yea, he was stalkish and creepy, but did you hear him describe the way she looked as he watched her while she was sleeping.

Swoon




A Sudden Disinterest

I contemplated praying the other day when I saw my mother crying. An irresistible urge to comfort her in the only way she knows how. But I digested the feeling and found it lacking…something.

A certain flavor to give rise to my struggles. Not things I share with those flawed like me but something I quickly lust about to those others who believe. Others who are so far from me but still people I love.

I saw my mother crying and wanted to give comfort in the only way she knew how. Copy the posture beaten into me and speak past a jaw wired shut. But there was something wrong with this image. This debatable fiction layed out before me.

I tried to bring up the images of those I despise with such a passionate love that it can only be fate. Oh how I tried to push them away but when I needed them most they stood by. Watching my mother with regretful tears in her eyes. Me on my knees easing my hands on high!

But I distress with this taste in my mouth most foul and tamed. Struggling past the restraint to say amen.