0

Still Filtered

Filter and control are marvelous things that can make you lost in your own mind like no other.

Introspection on what I have thus far written has recently made me realize how filtered all my writings are, how fluffy. Even in madness, I need to find a beauty, a rhyme, a metaphor that makes all the ugly go away and only touches the monstrous rearing head of those negative feelings that lie beneath the surface.  An old friend once told me you’re too controlled, your writing is like you: beautiful, witty but guarded-avoiding what really bugs you, afraid to let people know the side of you that’s not always sunshine and roses, to let them see there’s a human behind the smiling imp. A human that feels things probably more than most.  I didn’t understand him then but now I do. Life IS gritty and while we can control emotions we can’t control our situations or avoid them forever.

And sometimes we can’t control our situations OR our emotions. But it’s always a scary thing, trying to open up and feel, trying not to avoid, trying to let people know you feel so intensely because it takes away a power. A lonely power that eats at you, but a power nonetheless. Honestly, if anyone’s reading this, there is no end to this rant-no summation that ties my thoughts up in a nice bow- it’s an errant collection of thought accumulating to a bunch of sentences I write here. Mostly because right now my thoughts are all over the place, some metamorphosing as I write.

At this point, I don’t know how to go from here from fluffy to reality but acknowledgement is the first step right?

Advertisements
0

A Letter to You, from Myself

Dear you,

So I have decided to make changes in my life and I have decided these changes have nothing to do with you. Why? Because if they did then I would have to deal with bigger things than changing my tiny leather couch which forces me to lie in a bent position or moving the hanging bookcase from atop my bed so as to avoid gravity’s ire. These are rational changes stemming from a desire to better one’s standard of living not from an irrational fear of potential embarrassment that you will see my sparsely decorated pad and judge. These are not the decisions of a woman who has found out you are coming back in town. They truly are not. And if you have-in the off-chance- heard I have renewed my gym membership AND began to hum in the office, that’s not about you either okay? I never canceled my membership to begin with… I just thought it’s time I start going again, AND the humming is inconsequential as it IS the holidays. It’s got nothing to do with you. Also, haven’t you been going to the gym all this time to, in someway, illicit a reaction from me? Were you not annoyed last time when I didn’t react? So there. At least this mess is making us healthier and helping to make better life choices.  Cheers to silver linings.

Sincerely,

In Denial and Renovating

0

Promise

Lately I feel like I am in a bubble

One that I created by myself

And I don’t know why.

What am I running from?

Who am I punishing?

Why am I putting myself in situations

Where I feel less than?

Why am I isolating myself to a point

Of no return, letting go of relationships

I hold dear and then hating myself for it

What’s with the stupid punishment?

Let’s take an oath to love ourselves,

The way the people around us do

Because if you and I can’t love ourselves

All that’s in the world is time passing by

And us waiting for the day

When time starts to slow

And we regret all the time we spent putting ourselves down

While we should have been bring ourselves up.

 

0

Literal Rambling, Literally

Wise eyes mean nothing

If in a moment your immaturity shines through.

You talk a great talk and walk a great walk

But bring you something serious

And there lies the panic, painfully plain,

All the polish in the world can’t hide the inner kid.

But still you try,

You polish your face, Till it shines,

You polish your brain,  Till it smarts.

You polish your feelings, Till they numb.

But they don’t numb,

They brood under the surface

Waiting for that first crack

In the polish surface

Through which to seep.

And you know what?

Fucking let it,

Let your face be myriad of emotions

Your brain a jumble of nerves

You feelings an emotional conduit

Cause honestly

Polish is overrated

And the wise eyes

Are wise cause they see

Behind every polished facade

Is a shit storm you can’t wait to meet.

 

0

Stuck on you

There’s a room full of people

But I am stuck on you.

And I get it.

I get how you feel now,

Like you’re sorry that you don’t care

But you don’t.

I watch you and I get mad

For not looking away

For still caring.

And I can’t hate you

Because I get it.

I get the feeling of wanting to care

But not caring, the same way.

Such a stupid game we play

Him stuck on me,

Me stuck on you,

You stuck on her

And she stuck on he.

None of us care

But I get it

And wonder for how much longer

Will I be stuck on you.

 

0

Playing

We are puzzle pieces

That don’t belong together

But I keep pushing

But I keep losing.

It’s frustrating.

 

You remember

The feeling?

Of trying to put

A circle into a square?

That’s what it

Feels like.

Like I am on the

Wrong side.

For trying to do this.

 

There’s no real reason

For me to keep you.

But it’s like my pride

Has made it

Its mission.

 

My world would be better

If I stop with you.

But I keep playing

I keep saying,

There is something.

When there is nothing.

You aren’t my puzzle piece.