Not Rocket Science

I find myself saying this a lot lately. People make things so much more complicated than they have to be. And I’m not saying that sometimes things DON’T get complicated, but everyday, every week, every month, there is not a huge conflict in relationships; if there is, that sounds toxic.

 

It’s crazy to me that people can’t see when they are pushing you away, and or pushing you to the point where you don’t want anything to do with them. This is regardless of loving them, them being a friend, or being family. I have two people in my life, one family, the other a “friend” who I love, but currently don’t want to have anything to do with. It’s like they coordinate their screw ups and bs excuses and repetitive apologizes.

But there’s no reason to keep apologizing. A part of being a human being is having the ability to learn. Some people learn quickly, others a little slower. But we have this ability, so why not use it? It simply doesn’t make sense to me that people would rather make the same poor decisions versus improve. 

Might As Well

be alone. Because what is the point?

People swear they love you, but when

you’re down

and out

it’s only you, you can turn to. When

your back is against the wall, and you’re

looking for someone to break

your fall, just to realize they stole the grass

to help soften the blow.

Confused by the love people claim they feel,

when anytime there’s a problem, they can’t heel.

If you, gotta do it all on your own, you might as well

be all alone.

Why stress yourself with the problems of someone else,

when they’re one of the reasons, your life got mess?

How important are they, to suck your joy, and spit on

your hope, with no recourse?

Might as well be alone.

 

Admit

I can’t speak for everyone, but admitting that it hurts has often been a big step in my healing from an emotional or mental trauma. No matter how big or small the issue, knowing that you have been affected by someone’s (and sometimes even our own) actions can open your eyes that you NEED to heal. If you don’t know you need to heal, how can you?

via Daily Prompt: Heal

You remind me of all the things I left behind, the back and forth, an unsteady load. Ready to drop, dump, explode. Dragging the happiness, the thin threads born, and set fires to destroy them, until there’s nothing more. Return to wonder, why all the scars, when every conversation is a burden or a chore. Name changes, his face placed over yours, shortened tempers, and more fights. You can’t tell me you don’t remember those nights.

Time passes, less is said, strangers in the same bed. You dream of when you knew me, I dream of never known you at all. The difference seems so small. The abyss tells a different tale. The distance no more the issue than the depth of the pain; a long trip to hell. How far can one fall and get back up again? Why fall at all, when bridges are there, yet you jump and I push you over the edge. Step by step we could’ve had it all, the lack of patience created a never ending fall.

False Pictures

The dream began with the flashing of a smile, hope pressed between tongue and cheek. a vision of deep brown. The pressing of chocolate and warmed honey, seeping into pieces that haven’t seen light. The stems caress, releasing the smell of wanton need, colors dripping upon the canvas, drops splashing, trailing along the curves. Between the land and the sea, what was found was again lost to me. Between the waves and the bed, the dream was swept away. Lost, pulled into the deep, curiosity, lack of direction pulled; until it was just too deep.

I can’t talk to you anymore, it seems to be at, but to a wall not a person, and my time seems lost. I wonder more and more, about time cashed in, never to be seen again. Maybe we were friends, or two sinners making excuses for the things we did. I sought the same thing, and lose it in the hope of what could be, never seeing what is until the thrumming of need becomes a docile pitter patter, lost rhythms into silent beats.

I am One

Not to be cliche, but, as long as I can remember, I’ve struggled with loving myself and wanting to live. To me it’s not a morbid conversation. A big portion of my life I’ve self harmed and struggled with suicidal thoughts. I’ve functioned, and at times, barely functioned as I dealt with an amplitude of mental, physical and emotional attacks.

I’m not generally an unhappy person; at least not now that I have more control over my life. Before the last couple years, I thought depression was something I’d inherited for being, as my stepfather put it “an evil child”. That it was the reaped curse of karma, and that I was just an unhappy person who loved misery. But as I’ve grown, I’ve realized that’s not the case. Yes I have seconds, minutes, moments, days, weeks even where I can’t make life make sense, but overall, I love my life. The good, the bad, and the ugly. I’ve learned to see that the struggles and adversities give me opportunities to grow and be better.

My point is, people who self harm or who struggle with suicidal thoughts are often plagued with shame. I choose to ignore that pressure tonight and share that I’m one of those people. Ignoring the fear, the panic, and the almost debilitating need to ctrl + a + backspace…I’m speaking on it. Because I know too many people who hide these feelings. Who are afraid, like I am, and because of that fear and shame are even more burdened by the struggles they go through…that we go through.

Tonight I just want to encourage those of us triggered and fighting our own minds to keep fighting. That even though no one can see you tearing yourself apart, I know the battle, and I’m here to listen. That the shame won’t always be there if you try little by little to tell it a girl (or boy or gender tag) has no shame. That with time, we can make it, and the current pain will be in the past.

 

That vague feeling, not real, but remembering what the separation felt like. The hiss and sigh of relief to know it was controlled, not a random force dragging you to the pit, you were choosing to go. Isn’t that better? To know when you want you can also choose to leave, but when their nails hook into the fattiness of your calf what was left but the anchor of remembering? Let it fill your lungs, the disappointment, like a bleach soaked rag, erasing the color, but not the trail. The throbbing reminds you, you’re alive, the heart strum more a dream than reality. What would it matter, you’re remembering.

Blog at WordPress.com.

Up ↑