No Filter

 Usually when I put something on here I try to make it poetry or well thought out, but I don't have a diary and I need to word vomit.

I am so sick of emotions. I am tired and exhausted of feeling anxious and broken. I am sick of breaking down only to tell a joke three hours later. I am done pasting on a smile and pushing down my anger. I want to tell people no. I want to tell them leave me alone. I want to tell them they aren't what I want or need, but you can't do that. 

I want to lock myself away and stop being a person. I want to transform into a squirrel and spend my day climbing trees. I want to be a frog and hibernate under the snow. I want to be a cat and spend all day in the sun. I want to stop being.

Not forever. Just an hour or two days. I need to stop being for everyone else. I need to stop being for me. I need to stop being. I can't handle the constant twists and turns, the waves that are being human. Dear Stevie, I did not ask to climb this mountain I did not ask for the changing seasons of my life. I want to be Arizona, Summer all the time. Winter did not need to hit this hard with this many fluctuations. 

I am not okay and I don't want to be that way anymore. I want to be fine. I want to say I'm good and mean it. Why do I need to adjust daily to emotions, why can't I be stagnant and not broken everyday. I build this puzzle daily, why do the pieces keep ending up on the floor?

My Refrain

 

Where do I take the problems?

Who will predict my dangers?

When can I lay my fears down?

Who will take away my daggers?

Where do I call home?

 

I’m not okay without you,

Self-sufficient as I am.

I am not okay without you.

I don’t know who I am.

The Ways We Prepared

 

As I child, I prepared.

I asked questions:

 “When you die, will I share your stuff with anyone?”

It is all yours.

As a teen, I adjusted.

Two, three, nights alone:

“I’ll call you when I get there.”

Watch for deer on the road.

As an adult, I jumped.

Ready to be off on my own.

“Text shorter, leave paragraphs for the phone.”

I’ll send 100 messages and leave a voicemail at the tone.

By myself, I cried.

I can’t handle all you gave me.

I’m not ready to be alone.

Now with nowhere to turn to,

No reason for my phone.

1/5/21

 

If hope is a thing with wings, then depression carries stones.

You think you can outrun, dodge, throw the aim and escape,

But the stones are tethered to ankles,

Each movement, each attempt, hits yourself,

The aim is always true.

 

If hope is a thing with wings, anger has a net.

Weighing down any future or dream,

You find yourself looking into a broken world,

Only parts of a whole, and every part is lined with darkness,

An obstructed view.

 

If hope is a thing with wings, then I am a girl with a broken heart.

Stuck here in my cage, blood boiling, eyes crusted with salt.

I hurt but have no wounds, I am trapped while I hold the key.

There is no escaping who I am inside.

No matter how far I run, or fight, or hide.

I have no wings; I have no freedom.

I have no hope.

Crying at My Desk, I Write

 

Before your trips, you would write me letters. One for every day you would be gone, a little something to which I could hold on. I would open them carefully, ready to read your words. Each morning before school, so the missing you wouldn’t hurt.

And now I have no letters, no hidden little gifts. I only have this heart of mine, which continuously rips. I miss your words, I miss your thoughts, your hidden little gems. And even more I miss the way, I was prepared back then.

We didn’t see this coming, there was no long goodbye. One moment you were with me, talking and laughing, though I didn’t always know why. Your words were always comfort, a constant in my life. Now there’s only silence, the words are mine to write.

I want to do you justice, let your memory through me live on. It isn’t fair how little time we had, so few days to call you mom.

Madonna and Mary

 

Where do we go from here?

Isn’t that always the question? What happens next, what now, where will your next step take you? Normally the answer is laid out in front of you.

“Let’s get food”

“Send this to shipping”

“Put up the Christmas decorations”

“Stay up late, tomorrow is Saturday, no alarm needed”

But this time is different. This time there is no clear next step. No poorly copied directions, MapQuest print out, even a road sign telling me to expect curves and a dead end.

This isn’t where we intended to be.

How many times did I say that? How often would we follow our instincts and find ourselves lost? Usually you can stop, call, and restart.

“Should turn around”

“Go left at the big pine tree”

“Call so and so and tell them where we are”

“There’s a gas station, we can stop and pee, and find our way”

This wasn’t’ planned, there was not predicting this unexpected turn. One moment you were here with me, laughing and cheering about the election; suddenly gone. This was not where we were meant to be.

We had it all, I believed in you.

I believed in you. I believed in you through my first move, through the divorce, through college, through job changes, and my final move away, I always believed in you. I didn’t know believing in you would soon mean believing in the simple.

“You’ll be fine without me”

“You can drive to visit me, you know the way”

“You can find your keys, you know where they go, on the hook”

“You remember where your room is, I’ll follow you and we can go back together”

Slowly I watched as remembering to do something, became remembering where an item was, became remembering how to walk, became remembering who I am. I watched as you began to forget the world around you, forgetting who you were in the world. But in you, I always believed.

You believed in me.

From my first breath, to your last, I have to know you never stopped. I have to put my trust in the idea that you still do. My number one cheer leader.

“You are doing it”

“You jumped so incredibly high”

“You were wonderful, I heard you the whole time”

“You are strong, and smart, and brave of heart, Anastasia Marie.

Someday

 

Someday I’ll walk alone.

Someday there is no one else home.

Someday I have to say goodbye,

Someday you’ll teach me to cry.

Someday you will rest.

Someday I’ll fight to not forget.

Someday I’ll hold on too tight,

Someday I wish you had had more fight.

Someday I’m glad you’re finally in peace

Someday I break piece by piece.

Someday I find joy in your words

Someday I am angry and hurt.

Someday and everyday I try to go on.

Someday and everyday, I’m not that strong.

Someday and everyday, tomorrow and yesterday,

I remind myself, someday is today.