cycles, changes, and the beautiful dead
the heat of the sun slowly rises from the earth, forsaking the living. in its place is the slow surge of cold, yellowing the greenery and coaxing nature into a seasonal sleep. of course, that's putting it ominously. in truth, the oncoming cold is a breath of fresh air - the skies clear up, rainstorms roll away, people pull out their dark-toned clothing and smile as they wait in line for steaming mugs of hot coffee. the trees begin their cycle of sleep by shedding their yearly leaves, showering the world with reds and oranges that blanket the floors. plaid patterned long sleeves and fuzzy lined socks become a norm, and the clear blue sky reminds everyone that the day can still be worth living as the temperatures slowly plummet. yes, autumn is a time of death and sleep and changes - but it is also a time of red leaves when trees are usually green, a time of black coffee warming up cold hands, a time where people can go outdoors without sweat dripping down their backs. the cycle is beautiful because of its brevity, and soon enough it will be gone, so enjoy autumn while it lasts or you'll wake up with sweat on your back and summer rain showers tackling an earth with green trees against instead of red ones.
if only i could solve
the mysteries in my mind
then the circus of life wouldn't feel so vast.
loving the wrong person
his laughter, sharp and bright
filling the air with the love inside it,
reaching out to keep me in its confines
it was love, i am sure.
i am almost sure.
was it love?
her body on top of mine,
filling the air with a sharp tension
i had never before felt
such a rush
like a gasp of life when your head comes out of the water
she was a stranger
he was my friend
it was not love with her
but it was certainly not wrong
loving him was
fast cars and loud music and quick motions
battling to prove ourselves in the circus of life
loving him was not wrong
but it was not right for me either
he loved me more
than i ever could have returned
because my body and mind betrayed me
and i ran him through the rings
in the circus of life
just so i could discover that i was wrong
a promise of perfection - verdict: fail
promise #1: i'll be the best daughter you could have asked for.
sleepless nights, falling onto a tearstained pillow
fake smiles, frigid stares, feared and dreaded disappointment
bad decisions, a perfect record, lies lies lies
promise #2: i'll stay with you forever
happy beginnings and hopeful first dates
discussions of a future years ahead, already in the making
open conversation curling in on itself
forgetting who you are and who you want to be
arguments and frustration and the inability to accept reality
bad decisions, perfected smiles, blank eyes, lies lies lies
promise #3: i'll have my life figured out and planned like you wanted
goals and dreams and ambition
late nights mapping out your life
feeling like its actually someone else's
finding things you love and hiding them
shame and worry and fear and lies lies lies
perfectly planned agendas open and unchecked
finding solace in what does not fit in the plan of a life that's not yours
finally escaping, trying to figure out who you are
who are you?
promise #4: i'll love only who the world thinks i should love
going out with a boy
laughter and jokes and what could have been love
overthinking, overcompensating, overwhelming
perfect presentation of a picturesque relationship
fighting, avoiding your thoughts, avoiding his body
being both ashamed and so so relieved
her, in the back of the car
faceless, and yet so so much more right
puzzle pieces properly in place
going back to perfectly pretending
lies lies lies
promise #5: i'll be perfect
picture perfect people
It... well, it wasn't about me necessarily.
It was about everyone like me, everyone who didn't fit their picturesque description of what a person was allowed to be.
It was the late-night, mental-claustrophobia-panic-attacks of "I can't do this, I can't do this, I can't do this..."
It was the fake smiles and the forced laughter when someone said a harmful joke.
It was the hypocrisy of worshipping loudly in public to stave off the breakdown that was going to happen a few minutes later.
It was the "God is tempting you, don't look at girls. It's disgusting and it's wrong and if anyone found out they would hate you."
It was seeing your friends make fun of the boy who liked to paint his nails and the girl who wore short skirts because they were sinful and immoral, and laughing alongside them even though all you wanted to do was go up to them and ask, "How do you do it? Where do you find the bravery?"
It was coming to the realization at a young age that God loves everyone except girls who like girls and boys who like boys, everyone except people like you.
They wanted a picture perfect person, but they got me instead. They wanted to change me and "fix" me and cut off all the pieces they didn't like, but I am not dough for them to take a cookie cutter to and create what they want. I'm not done hiding, but one day I will be, and that's when I will shine.
what it means to live
“Have you ever been hurt, Madam? And I don’t mean hurt in the physical sense, and I don’t even mean the light sting of a smarting pride. I mean real, raw hurt that becomes a tangible thing inside your chest. It's the kind of pain that makes you feel like you can’t breathe, the kind of pain that makes you rethink every single decision you’ve ever made. It's encompassing, it's dreadful, it's incredibly lonely.”
“Goodness! I’m glad to say that I very much have not.”
“Hm. I’m sorry for you, then, Madam. That is very unfortunate.”
“Unfortunate?! That sounds dreadful! I’m extremely fortunate to not have that kind of pain anywhere in my memory.”
“Ah, but that means you haven’t lived. I pity you for that.”