I feel like a joke,

like,

who do I think I am?

I'm never going to be a leader

or the smartest person in the room.

I'm never going to be the prettiest,

or the funniest.

It feels like the goals and dreams for myself

are too lofty

and it feels like everyone around me knows it to be true.

Who did I think I was,

being in plays

and going back to school.

I'm never going to be enough for myself

which is so frustrating.

I feel like a joke,

like,

who do I think I am?

I'm never going to be a leader

or the smartest person in the room.

I'm never going to be the prettiest,

or the funniest.

It feels like the goals and dreams for myself

are too lofty

and it feels like everyone around me knows it to be true.

Who did I think I was,

being in plays

and going back to school.

I'm never going to be enough for myself

which is so frustrating.

A Church I follow has an app (Crossroads Anywhere) where we journal together as a community, and one of the things we journal about are things we are thankful for. I wrote these for this week's prompts from the app....

2/26/2024

"What are you looking forward to this week?"

- A shorter work week.

- Working on some life improvements - getting back into reading, exercising, working on my voice acting class.

- Time with my family.

2/27/2024

"What are you grateful for today?"

- One more extra day off, even if it is for a dentist appointment.

- New music to check out.

- No shortage of sports to check out.

2/29/2024

"How did someone help you this week?"

- Ben and Jerry for their delicious ice cream, which was a nice treat after a rough day at work.

- The Antique Mall by my work for being a warm place to walk on my break.

- My dentist for continuing to help me.

3/1/2024

Affirmation: "God will never leave me or abandon me."

"Is there anything you would like to thank God for this week?"

Thank You God for being with me through a short but challenging work week. Thank You for a few days to rest and enjoy family, hobbies, and You.

Isn’t it interesting the superstitions we believe in… the full moon brings out the crazy, death or bad news comes in threes… don’t say things are going well at work ESPECIALLY in the medical field either human or veterinary medicine. We can discount the superstitions and say they aren’t true but in my experience, full moons mean late night filled with tears, and every time I receive bad news I try to guess which other two things could go terrible wrong. It’s interesting and a large part of me believes it all to be true. Because at night when I’m driving home from a day filled with euthanasias and I’ve told my family they have to say goodbye to their loved one and I check my phone to discover my own baby has been long gone for 48 hours it hurts… it hurts terribly bad and I look up at the sky to pray to God and there is the moon. Full and bright… shining as bright as the sun sometimes almost as if to mock me. The sun is warm and inviting and the moon is filled with mystery and sadness. The moon follows me home and tucks me into bed and tells me to have a good nights rest but at 3 am I toss and turn and the light is shining so bright through my window it must be morning but it’s not. It’s the Moon… mocking me again.

It all began.

Forbidden.

Deceit,

came first,

Withholding,

broken ground.

Denouncing saving.

If,

all tailspins into nothing,

All rises again

as

conversation.

Convincingly answering

the unquestionably

first

fruits.

Hell,

refusing to dry.

What will,

the body,

makes deeper.

Who could stand

correctly?

Unbothered,

by the new roots.

Who could speak

in the tongues?

Mothering

atonement

with its abandonment.

No one,

absolutely no one,

saw the creation

of the new moon

coming.

Leaving

...

no response.

Only

the departure

felt right.

Age of rape

Oh Heavenly Policeman

help,

rape,

help.

What is it, oh, frail human?

She embraced me,

does not let me go,

is holding me more and more-

stronger and stronger.

All without my consent!

And who is that trespasser?

Old age....

The howls. The swish. The crack.

I grew to admire that hatred in your eyes. They cut me in a way that made me feel like my pain was worth something. They made the color of love leak off my pale palette. It served as a reminder to me– a reminder, which I planned to recreate.

The howls. The swish. The crack.

I considered alternatives, yet none rose higher than this apartment complex. You read my love letter. The howls silenced your plea. The swish- your grasp almost saved me. The crack. My color of love painted the concrete canvas.

Lately

I'm finding faith

Between

Questions

And

Self-laced intentions,

Like a dot to dot

Painting insanity

Or something else.

So I interrogate

My eyes

And why they bend

And spin

Light as they do.

Is anything real?

So I will follow

my greed

Into the foundation

Of everything

I will never know,

And create night

With eyelids and hope.

And I will see her

As more than

An outline,

When I can trace

nothing

But darknes,

Peeling like scars

From from the center

Of me.

I peak back out

At the dawn.

And i wish I

I could see everything

Like this.

And follow the greed.

The truth is,

Being wrong

Is fucking

Beautiful.

Because she looks good

In both outfits.

If only I could

Also

See

Myself.

Dapper as fuck

In my confusion.

Maybe truth

Would never

Drop beneath the horizon.

But when it comes

To her,

You always squint

At the fucking sun.

And valor should not be present in what is designed to be most intimate, it should not be an option, a thought, or even remnant, it should be a thing nonexistent

As connections should not be wars, should not be cuts, should not be sores - attachments should NOT be competitions; who can cause the most turmoil and who can keep those fictitious scores

But the snow fell just as white there, though far from my fingertips and people came in and others went out, in simultaneous reddened drips - try as I might, I could not keep the trembling from my lips as my head SPLIT APART, my stomach concave, and it was all I gave, to simply, SIMPLY RESTART

RESTART the part at which I fell, telling secret thoughts and feelings no one should ever tell, to professionals whose aim was to guide me to hell and after the dust settled, I was no more than SHELL

And what do you DO with emotional emptiness..?

When vacant, you still writhe with painful restlessness; to take a deep breath is utter uselessness

I still TRY-

And, OH, do I TRY to let the undercut and disrespect fly lightly by, to let the hushed whispers become their perpetual lie, I TRIED!! I TRIED!! I TRIED… I TRIED!!

But inside another piece of me dreadfully DIED