This ones dedicated to the can't get rights,
and heart breakers.
My body and soul,
is not to be fucked with.
My biggest weakness,
are expectations.
I expect empathy,
kindness,
and authenticity.
Don't look away when I smile at you.
Don't pretend you can't hear me.
You know,
you hear,
you purposely hurt.
We only have one life.
Boost yourself up,
and take it all in.
There's so much beauty to be found.
Manic panic,
as I navigate,
all the chaotic static.
Spacey,
and dazey,
I try and navigate
these phases.
To perpetuate,
and procrastinate,
is excellence,
and exuberance.
I'm always learning,
often losing,
always laughing,
never choosing.
Observe and report,
to you, yourself ,and I.
You might just feel something for a change.
I always knew I wasn't going to live a full life.
When you wish on a star,
and pray for your own death at a young age,
the universe listens and give you exactly what you ask for.
Life's cruel,
yet fair lessons.
We live through pain,
but walk away changed.
Now that my life has turned around,
I feel my days shortening.
I am nearing 40,
but don't expect to live past 60.
Anymore years will just bring pain,
heartache,
and loss.
I don't want to outlive my loved ones.
I wish for peace and tranquility.
Knowledge and strength.
Competence until the very end.
Finally,
that old familiar.
The sun is shining,
fresh air fills my lungs,
and I am reminded why I'm alive.
Even that routine walk around the block hits differently.
The greenery from the earth is vivid and sharp,
as I look up at aged trees that line the block.
I wonder about all the things they've seen in their lives,
and whether they're years of solitude is suddenly made okay by the sudden shift in weather.
Even the birds have returned to plan and play.
Like the plants and petals of a flower,
my heart and soul is open,
willing to give and receive.
There's something exuberant about that transition between Spring and Summer.
The way the air is cool,
and sticky,
before the sun rises.
An internal sweat.
Tight chest.
That reminder that I am here,
and I am alive.
The smell of sweet nostalgia;
grilled corn,
summer heat,
frozen treats.
Soon I will be sunning,
legs exposed,
music loud,
feet swirling in a body of water.
This is my happy place.
Finally winter has thawed,
and I am back in true form.
It hurts more than you can ever imagine.
I hold my breath,
and start to lose consciousness.
No matter what I do,
I can't seem to exhale.
It's time to let go,
but I'd rather pass out from loss of oxygen,
then deal with the situation at hand.
Trust,
love,
communication,
and honesty,
all gone.
Caught between victimization,
and martyerism.
I am a shell of my former self,
deciding whether I should crawl out of this hole,
or sink into this bog and die.
J.D.,
You spent a long time running from who you are. The last time you were comfortable in your own skin was in grade school.
At an early age, you learned that it was not okay to be unique. Boys were men, and men were soulless drifters who suppressed their emotions. Men played sports. Men fucked girls. Men lied and cheated to get to the top. Men were masculine. Men didn't sing or dance. Men didn't smile or laugh. Men conformed. From birth you were conditioned to learn, provide, breed, then die.
Friends drifted in and out of your life, because you were careful to hide your true self. You learned to adapt, deny, and be cruel as part of a lifelong defense mechanism. How can anyone point fingers at you, if you're the finger pointer? What bad things could people say, if you choose to hide in the shadows and keep relationships at a distance?
You kept waiting for that perfect sitcom life you grew so attached to in Film and TV, but it never came. You refused to accept that it was all fiction and that life was happening in real time.
Real life has no rewinds. Zack Morris time outs do no exist. Love, sex, and relationships are not a continuous laugh track. Happy endings were created as a copying mechanism.
It is up to you to discover who you really are. Like life, this process is going to be difficult, complicated, disappointing, exhilarating but necessary. Walls will have to come down. That hard exterior will need to be shed until you find that light you buried deep within. It may take a life time. It may never happen at all.
All that matters is that you put the effort in to better yourself, and came out the other end an accomplished person.
My writing has lied dormant.
Instead I remain laser focused on my victimization.
I was powerful once.
Full of hope and positivity.
The last few years I have been sinking slowly,
weighted by gaslighting, insecurity, and hopelessness.
To fight is to live,
to submit is a fate worse than death.
Jump,
run,
scream,
or shout.
It's time to break the cycle,
and remember who you really are.
