My brows furrowed gripping my pencil like it was anchoring me to this earth. Trying To pull something prophetic from the universe while I think myself to death in this hipster cofdee shop with hanging planta hung every 2 feet from the ceiling. Usually in these moments something shifts or my armor of impossible invincibility cracks.

And right on queue Anna comes in, my best friend since second grade, and says the first thing that pops into that treacherous mind of hers, “Yo Em, you look like you’re in the middle of a fart or about to burst out laughing. Why does your face do that, dude? Why so Serious?”

Well damn. Anna is a goddamn oracle because after laughing my ass off I farted in the middle of this hipster coffee shop thinking all the while “Damn it Anna. I love you.“

Your eyes were the first thing I feared before I even saw your body.

The desperate hunger of a soul

that had not seen daylight in years.

I never thought that a light could go out in a person still breathing.

I would wander the night

trying to make hazy the strong bite of loss you filled in me that soulless night,

some years ago now.

You still have entrance to my mind.

I still remember your eyes.

I still remember the words

you spoke before you took.

And most of all

I remember

that woman,

who once was me,

became not me.

That is the tragedy of most takings.

It ends the very parts of you,

you didn’t know you loved.

It hardens your fingers.

They dig into ground,

lest you be lifted towards clouds full of thunder.

Where there is no right, there is no wrong.

Only the loud, painful truth,

that you were once whole

and now,

you are not.

I close my eyes and I know I’ll fall for anything that drops from those beautiful lips.

When he stirs his fingers I think he knows how to strum every part of me.

It’s a slow burn that spreads to every part of me.

He doesn’t need to say a word. I already know.

In the middle of the night when my fingers find hidden places to make magic in moonlight, I wonder if I remember the face of whom first stroked this flame.

I don’t have a face yet.

Just a beautiful body with a mysterious smile that will one day (possibly?) Be real.

Until then I see hints of something that could be and make movies of our ending before the beginning credits have begun.

That’s the thing about me and love and lust. You give me one whiff of something beautiful and I’ll be the violin you pluck until we both crescendo into the next morning.

And what a morning that will be.

Only if he knows what it means to have sorrow be your neighbor.

Only if there is a sweetness and fierceness in his eyes that signals "rest here, no one will hurt you."

Only if he knows what joy means and finds it in the little things.

Only then, only if...

I will tear down the wall to this ragged heart of mine.

Only then, will I let you in.

The sky is raining. Or so it seems. You see the sky opened up in my living room. I am in a puddle of water wondering how to plug up the clouds so they don't come in here again.

Then I see that the rain are my tears and I am just wishing for it to be anything other than me- to hide the truth of my sadness that is right in front of me- falling like rain on my window pane. The sad thing is today was beautiful. Sunny without a cloud in the sky.

I hate being sad on days like today. The wind felt good against my cheek and I was reminded that I am still here. The road was warm on my bare feet and I wonder why I have bouts of sadness on days like today when most of my days are so good.

I then wonder what it means to have sorrow stick to your ribs like cement so every step feels like you are anchoring yourself more and more to the earth. My shoulders droop and my body aches. I am sick. I have been sick. And it is hard to tell what is wrong with me.

But my body is begging me to find an answer. So when I am bedridden and I look out at that beautiful sky I am reminded that I am so very here. Inside with aching ribs with the air in my room smelling like sickness. I do not know how else to describe it other than that.

And then I wonder if on days like today why it is so much easier to write when sorrow is my companion? It makes me sadder still, and even more than that it terrifies me.

I do not want to thirst for dark things so my pen can flow like water in a stream. I wish I was just the current itself. A constant thrum of creativity- but this would make me some god. I am no god. I am struggling living life as a human as it is.

I kiss my pillow with my eyelids, I turn over look at my ceiling with the glow in the dark stars- I will be 30 in about a week- and still love the childish wonder in certain things. Glow in the dark stars is one of them. So I will take this as my trophy tonight as I try to sleep.

Sorrow left an impression but did not drown me.

Because I will open my eyes tomorrow and do the very thing it would never expect:

I will try. One foot in front of the other. I will move forward.

Knowing you, there will be an excuse for your absence.

Knowing me, I will accept your excuse even when it has been the hundredth time that you are not here.

Knowing you, you will twist my words even though I thought them unbreakable in their meaning this time. Yet here you are, bending them until you break my heart in the process.

And knowing me, when the breaking happens I’ll be alone, wailing to the shower head because it is the safest place for my tears. For no one can hear you when shower’s on, and I lie to myself so I can ache.

And knowing you, the end of us will be as quick as the beginning and you will dig our grave with a swiftness I keep forgetting you possess and you’ll laugh at what we were.

And knowing me, I’ll actually laugh with you. Because how can you not laugh at the absurdity of how your heart is being buried like a murder victim: quickly and without remorse.

And it is dusk somewhere, the sun will set on our love and I will look out in awe at nature poetically putting an end to our time together.

And knowing you, you will not even look up to see it.

Warning: Will eat chocolate and there may be stains in places you didn’t think would be possible. True story: chocolate found it’s way behind her ear.

Warning: has an unpredictable laugh- it can start as a low bass thudding out a low “haha” to then sound like a piccolo, then possibly a wheezing windpipe and finally she might end in a snort… nobody knows (least of all her).

Warning: sings harmony to every goddamn song that comes on the radio even if she doesn’t know the words… she will find a way to sing.

Warning: is fiercely loyal. She may seem sweet, but she will protect her own. I will leave that up to your interpretation…

Warning: sometimes she feels so sad she doesn’t know why or where it comes from. Let her cry, she’ll release the excess and be okay :)

She rides waves just to say she can surf.

She'll look you in the eye and lie to your face.

"It's not life if it's fair," She'd say.

And you're looking into that well wishing you never wasted a coin on her.

She knows that if you get close it'll be the end of her,

because then she'll need.

So you only see her when it's dark out.(1)

Sleeping on the sofa knowing all the while life ain't fair.

She'll break your heart with a smile,

because love ain't fair either.

So you save up coins to throw in that well,

wishing you never met her.

Maybe Life will listen this time.

Mackenzie rides another wave,

breaks another heart.

Never admitting her heart b r e a k s each time too.

1.) "Mackenzie"- by Houndmouth- lyric from the song

The sun shines in on my legs in the coffee shop I am sitting in and I feel the weight of who I used to be between my ears. My brain short circuits to old selves and the mistakes made.

What is sexy about becoming what someone else wants?

I don't want to become someone else for someone else. What's the point in being me if I act like it's Halloween all year round? I can't run from me, because I'm always there.

I always thought this was a curse. Now I know it is a blessing, because that means redemption is possible and changing my choices is always just that: my choice.

*I was listening to the song "3 Nights" by Dominic Fike and these lyrics stuck out to me as I saw this challenge.*

I looked over my chipped teacup, wondering all the while what the point of this conversation was. I think I thought I was enjoying myself.

Maybe I was.

Maybe I was playing into the witty banter of getting to know a handsome stranger, not caring how in this moment nothing we said actually held any substance.

But I suppose substance on the first date is a rare occurrence. When I go on dates, which is quite also rare, I feel like I am 16 years old girl- not a 29 almost 30 year old woman who has traveled, seen the world, fought many battles, and has lived to see another day.

When I think about dating I think of a maze that everyone wants to enter, that everyone needs to enter, but no one can actually find their way out.

It is probably incredibly pessimistic of me to believe this concept. But my mind immediately goes to this image- are we all mice trying to find the prize we see in our mind, feeding our ego that maybe, just maybe, there is someone out there that you mesh with enough to want to see them everyday of your life?

I hate dating. I can talk to a goddamn rock, but as I have gotten older I realize there are so many fucking rocks to sort through. And every time I feel like an egotistical ass for believing this, yet here I am. I am trying to flip the narrative in my brain.

Short circuit these images of no hope and paint the new story of an Anna that is learning what she wants in a partner, she is interviewing for the position, she is in control... when for so long I let others have power over me.

I am trying. Ooof let me tell you I am trying to flip this narrative.

Another date, another "no", another stab to the ego,

BUT

I am still here smiling.

Even if I don't believe what I am about to say, I nevertheless say it to the clear eyed woman in the mirror,

"Well goddamn Anna, on to the next shall we?"