waterfalling
Today, I walked to the waterfall about 1/2 mile from my house. I crawled through the gated fence, walked down the sloped hillside, and sat on the grass. After a short time, I laid in the grass, listening to the water fall over the edge, rushing downwards, pouring into the farm river. I cried for a bit. Eventually, I let the sun’s warmth guide me into a light sleep. I could hear the passing cars up over the bridge, and I hoped no one would notice the girl sleeping on the hill by the water. After about an hour, I suppose, I got myself up again. I walked up the hill towards the road, through the gated fence, and down the paved street, the half mile back to my house.
Every day has been a bit of a struggle lately. Between family, interning, work, and job-searching, life has been beating me down. It’s taken its toll. I’d cave in, give up, call it quits… but I don’t know how to or where to run or who to run to. Everyday, I try to think of who I can call, who I can talk to, who can help me figure something out. I keep putting one step in front of the other, and literally, I’ve been taking it one breath at a time. One single moment is all I can deal with right now.
One day, things will get better, things will be settled and “normal.” One day, I hope.
missing
lately, i think that i miss a horrid aspect of my life. but truthfully, i think i just miss art and poetry. i miss feeling life rather than living life. i’m more than i thought i’d be, but i feel like so little.
too much but nothing
you know when you have so much to do that you can’t seem to do anything at all? yeah, it’s like that right now…
years
what i feel when i hear your voice is not anger, not pity or sorrow, not joy. it is relief, you are still here. it is heartbreak, you do not know me. it is eagerness, you will not let me in. it is pain—for you, for me, for us. when i hear your cracking voice over the wire, i barely breathe. i am, in some ways, angry, hurt, sorrowful, mournful, resentful, bitter, broken, and sad. but most of all, i am perplexed… by the past, the present, the future, and all of which i will most likely never truly understand.
i am a little girl watching you come back through a door, into a home that was never yours. nor has it ever been mine. can you not relate to me? i am looking at you with the same confused eyes and hurt heart that i always have. i always will.
cupcakes = happpiness
When can I spend the rest of forever baking and cooking and owning a cafe… and being happy?
Happiness
Happiness is not the smile that you wear upon your face. It is not the grade on a paper, the acceptance letter of a new job, or the promotion from an old job. Happiness is not an award or a trophy or a pretty picture. It is, however, what makes all of these things come to be. And I say this, not from experience, per se, but out of fear.
Today was a rough day, for whatever reason. It just felt like one of those rough days. And sometimes I think back to moments in my life, and I’m not sure what they all mean or have meant. I was homeschooled for most of high school and I was certainly not happy then, but I was content within tiny moments, I suppose. I maintained a 4.0-4.3 GPA during college and received awards, none of which I keep out or ever care to mention (because I know they mean nothing to me, really). I graduated with honors. I lived in 5 different states during college and attended 5 universities. I had my heart broken a few times and cried so loud my mother had to stifle my tears and screams in fear of the neighbors calling the police. I’ve had best friends pass away at very young ages, close relatives leave my side while I held their hands. I’ve been to more therapists than I could ever count (or care to). I’ve been happy, at times. But in all of this, I have always been scared of myself. I might be the best I’ll ever be; I might be as good as I’ll ever get. And I do not feel good at all. At the end of the day, nothing matters but how I feel about me. And how do I get beyond what I have always felt? How do I feel something different? How do I trust what I feel without fearing that I thought the emotion rather than felt it?
I may never be quite normal. I may never be quite perfect. But I really really hope that one day, someday, I am truly happy.
Punching my stomach to dull the headache
I know that when I get scared and cannot handle the emotions within me, I turn to old habits. Obsessing over negatives and things you can control is so much easier than working through or just simply facing the true meaning of pain. So I guess this is sort of a confession, and there’s not much we can do about it. I fight it, as hard as I know how to. I am aware and conscious of my choices. It’s hurtful and harmful, but I’m not seeing a difference, anyway. I am in so much emotional pain that I’m telling myself I can’t help it.
I am happy for many reasons; I am miserable for many more. Wounds will never heal from the past, but I can. Maybe. Someday. Not today.
Tell me
Tell me what to feel, what should be felt and what is.
Tell me how to mend pieces that are not broken but have never been anything but separated shatters, eroded over time, softened by the rough waves of life.
Tell me where to look and whose hand to hold when crossing the earth.
Tell me how to stand tall when meek sadness is heavy upon the shoulders.
Tell me who to love and how to love. Tell me how to show love.
Tell me how laugh and live within each moment, not wanting for the next.
Tell me how to remember memories while still being able to create new ones.
Tell me where to go when I am lost, where to go when I am found, and where to go when I am neither, but wandering through loneliness and gray.
Tell me if I am real or a fool who fools herself.
Tell me when you’re dying and how to cry by your bedside.
Tell me how to feel in all of this.
I write words and words are what I know. I am talkative and blunt, chaotic and loud, I get angry and scream, I burst into flames, I throw things, I pick them up, I put them back in their places.
I can talk and I can write, but can I feel what I preach?
Tell me how to feel and I will learn how to live.
troubling trouble
I have felt so strange and horrible lately, it’s been rather rough. I don’t generally know where I’m going or what I’m meant to be doing. It scares me. When you look ahead, you think that by 26 or 27 you’ll have some pieces put together, have an idea of who you are and where you’re headed. But I don’t.
I know that I want to own a cafe, write a book of poetry, teach people to let go and enjoy the simple the moments, teach myself to let go and enjoy the simple moments, have lots of cats, a skunk, an otter, a pig, and an alpaca, and have kids. But how in the world to get there from here… I’ve got no clue whatsoever.
New year’s resolutions
Okay, it’s true, they are stupid. If you’re not motivated to change before January 1st, are you really ready to change on January 1st? But, I just haven’t had much time lately (commuting 4 hrs a day will do that). And I’m not actually waiting until the new year; it starts tomorrow for me, because I (kind of) finished this part of my internship.
1. Go to the gym 2 or 3 times per week for 45-60 minutes.
2. Chew less gum, breathe deeper.
3. Stop harassing my husband so much haha.
4. Remember who I am and what makes me happy.
Simple and not overly complicated. I’ll do my best.
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