You don't need my words.

You don't want them, either.

I get it.

So, I'll just sit with you,

arm against arm,

leg against leg,

and wait for you to be ready

to accept the love I have to offer you.

Because I'll always wait for you.

Dear Reader,

I wish I could tell you that you're going to survive this. I wish I could tell you that the memories fade, and that things get easier over time.

It doesn't .

At least, not on your timeline. Not when you want it to be.

Because as soon as you think you're better, something reminds you of them. An eyebrow. A blue flannel. A mischievous glint in someone's eye. Hell, even a playground or a gust of wind. And then you're back in the abyss of torment.

What I can say, though, is there is a light at the end of the tunnel. I don't know what yours is, but you have to find it. You need to keep up hope that things can get better, and that people are not monsters that turn on you any chance you get. I've had my fair share, certainly, and the dark is so, so dark.

You are needed. And loved. Your power is necessary in this life. Especially if there isn't another one. So please, keep fighting.

If not for you, then for me.

With all the light I can bestow upon you,

Your teacher

I searched your name in google again, just to see what you're up to.

Your hair grew. A lot. It doesn't look great.

I had a dream about you again, asking to rekindle us. To forgive you and start anew. It's been a while since I had one of those dreams, the ones where they're so much better than reality itself. Waking up shaking and crying, yelling at god or the universe or anyone who will listen.

But I'm learning to let go. I'm healing from you.

I'm letting people get close to me. Physically and mentally.

I'm letting people tell me they love me again.

I'm letting myself try again. Try anew. Try to love.

Let my heart be ripped in two.

It's funny. Because even though you're living the life we dreamed, I'm still glad I'm not you.

If I just had one more day.

I wouldn't be able to live with myself, knowing you'd be gone the next.

Knowing of your impending doom,

I would place myself on the sword with you.

We were supposed to stay alive together.

We were supposed to live for each other.

If you came back today,

I would scream at you.

I would ask all the questions you wouldn't want to be asked,

you shedding tears and begging for my forgiveness.

But.

I would embrace you. I wouldn't be able to get my tears to stop.

I would hold you, so close.

I would send all my love through me into you,

give you my love,

my joy,

my essence,

my very own life.

I would give it all for you to be here,

to see your smile again. To laugh with you. To talk about trees and singing and life.

To ask each other the questions no one wants to ask.

but.

If you came back for one more day,

I wouldn't be able to go on.

I couldn't live, knowing you wouldn't be here.

I had to grow so much since you left, I'm not, nor ever will, be the same.

All because of you.

Scrolling through the site

and seeing what i write,

sitting in the crowd

and watching actors be loud and proud,

walking through the park

and noticing my art,

the biggest thing I'd love

more than anything above

is to feel understanding

and hate disbanding.

the heart-strings tugged

as my art pulls you in and you're drugged

acceptance and love

is what i want you to think of

and feel deep inside

with a strong sense of pride.

and, like me,

have a deep moment of reminder that

life is

truly

worth living

Oh my GOODNESS!

Okay, so my dog's name is Natasha! She is an American Staffordshire Terrier (cousin to the pitbull, looks like a pitbull but with a black nose, thinner face, and less muscular/stocky). Natasha is knee-height, has short black fur everywhere except her tummy and paws, and right now she's a little chubby :)

Natasha just turned 12 this past March, and she is an ABSOLUTE cat. She likes her personal space unless she comes up to you for love. And if you call for her she will give you the side-eye, give a little "harumph", then get up and slowly saunter over.

However, when she chooses to be cuddly she is an absolute sweetheart. She'll act like a shark and run circles around the table to then side-swipe you when you're not ready.

Natasha has been in my life for half of my existence. I was there when she was born, and we have been side-by-side ever since. Through every parent argument, every trial, every situation I've found myself in, she has been there for me. I can't count the tears I've cried on her fur, the conversations I've had with her that I expect her to answer, and all the journeys we've had. I also honestly wouldn't be alive today if it wasn't for her love and companionship.

Natasha is my best friend. I love her so, so much.

I hear the alarm go off on my phone.

I need to turn it off to choose whether to get up or go back to sleep.

There is no choice i want to make

but.

I get up. Go to the bathroom.

I have to choose whether I get ready or sty home.

I need to work.

I get ready.

I start heading to work.

I see the coffee shop and ponder whether to stop or coffee or show up to work on time

I need coffee

I remember the days that i couldn't get up

living at home and letting depression lead the way

waking up with panic attacks and crying myself to sleep every night

I remember enabling my rude comments and selfish choices

and having no control of my choices towards my own body

but.

i have a friend who has told me she loves me.

and she doesn't know what she'd do if i wasn't here.

and i don't want to be.

but she wants me to be.

i have felt the sting of betrayal

of losing someone close to me

because she wasn't strong enough to stay

for me or for herself

even though she promised me she'd stay

SO!

i gave myself responsibilities:

like getting an apartment and paying rent

like getting a job and supervising people

like going back to school and finishing my degree

because if i can't live for me

i'll live for her.

and maybe. one day.

i might learn to live for me

~ Seattle ~

Day in, day out of

desperation for something

Other than grey rains

--------------

~ Montana ~

Pattering at the

Window, there's a wash of new

and out with the snow

--------------

~ After my move ~

I used to think of

Rain as a curse on my roof

Now, I miss her love

The people who allow me to love them,

they let me say the cruelest words

without fear of judgement.

The sarcastic, witty remarks.

The casual name-calling.

The push or shove after a crude joke my way.

They let me be the version of me that isn't always pleasing

isn't always perfect

isn't always nice

They allow me to take the space I need and truly deserve

which shows them how truly free i feel with them