unfinished words
discernment
i don’t have it and i can’t find it anywhere
no recipe online
i know i’ve used it before but it’s not where I left it
what if I borrow yours?
since I started to believe in me as god
all else became unbelievable
but the readings that say something good is coming
I know now
those are for me
anything good
it’s all for me
is that discerning? concerning?
i don’t want it then
I’ve picked a new religion
or cherry picked rather
and it was given to me in a dream
so you can’t argue it
it’s real because it
happened in my sleep
which is out my control so
there will be no debating the validity of this dream please
what you need to know about this new religion is how it will affect our day to day
i don’t want you to think this changes anything
it’s all in my head so you can disregard it
most people aren’t waiting for someone else to come along
with the right belief system to switch their plan over
and I assume you will respect me enough to not make my god a threat to yours
mine’s super chill and not interested in that kinda thing anyway
you are safe with us
safe to hear about it
and forget about it
safe to see how happy I am
and to let that be all you need to know
if you are ever curious to know about my new promise land
please just ask
but before you label me officially insane
just remember
that a lot of people still believe that the main gods in charge are men
when if you have ever experienced a lifetime of patriarchy
you know
that shit aint all there is
so when you think of prayer as your grandpa’s rosary he said every night
you might include my definition of prayer
which is research, analysis and conclusion making so that I can ask the question to my lord and savior- the universe- in the correct format
and then sit back and enjoy the show
the performance of the answer
and the parts that are unlocked by daring to look.
look the obvious in the eye
and seek the truth that the obvious is known to hide in its
mundanity
boredom
underwhelming folds.
i can only tell you
in broken sentences
with little to no capitals
the formality would ruin it
and scare you as well
so for now i’ll leave this here.
there’s an answer
and it’s more obvious than you might think
but if you let yourself think about the possibilities
instead of the hopes
using curiosity instead of expecting
you might just bypass the bouncer at the front gate
telling you that it’s foolish to waste your time and your mind on things
that could be wonderful.
the greatest power comes not from the angry, nor from the martyrs
but from the survivors who learned how to weild humor
in the face of grave reality.
you can leave your vague abstractions that serve to confuse
your faith hope and love can stay home
because we have new definitions
that will suit your needs exactly and we
are all just waiting for your arrival.
i don’t have it and i can’t find it anywhere
no recipe online
i know i’ve used it before but it’s not where I left it
what if I borrow yours?
since I started to believe in me as god
all else became unbelievable
but the readings that say something good is coming
I know now
those are for me
anything good
it’s all for me
is that discerning? concerning?
i don’t want it then
I’ve picked a new religion
or cherry picked rather
and it was given to me in a dream
so you can’t argue it
it’s real because it
happened in my sleep
which is out my control so
there will be no debating the validity of this dream please
what you need to know about this new religion is how it will affect our day to day
i don’t want you to think this changes anything
it’s all in my head so you can disregard it
most people aren’t waiting for someone else to come along
with the right belief system to switch their plan over
and I assume you will respect me enough to not make my god a threat to yours
mine’s super chill and not interested in that kinda thing anyway
you are safe with us
safe to hear about it
and forget about it
safe to see how happy I am
and to let that be all you need to know
if you are ever curious to know about my new promise land
please just ask
but before you label me officially insane
just remember
that a lot of people still believe that the main gods in charge are men
when if you have ever experienced a lifetime of patriarchy
you know
that shit aint all there is
so when you think of prayer as your grandpa’s rosary he said every night
you might include my definition of prayer
which is research, analysis and conclusion making so that I can ask the question to my lord and savior- the universe- in the correct format
and then sit back and enjoy the show
the performance of the answer
and the parts that are unlocked by daring to look.
look the obvious in the eye
and seek the truth that the obvious is known to hide in its
mundanity
boredom
underwhelming folds.
i can only tell you
in broken sentences
with little to no capitals
the formality would ruin it
and scare you as well
so for now i’ll leave this here.
there’s an answer
and it’s more obvious than you might think
but if you let yourself think about the possibilities
instead of the hopes
using curiosity instead of expecting
you might just bypass the bouncer at the front gate
telling you that it’s foolish to waste your time and your mind on things
that could be wonderful.
the greatest power comes not from the angry, nor from the martyrs
but from the survivors who learned how to weild humor
in the face of grave reality.
you can leave your vague abstractions that serve to confuse
your faith hope and love can stay home
because we have new definitions
that will suit your needs exactly and we
are all just waiting for your arrival.
the way i first heard about you
was through an expert
someone who knew just the right lingo
the keywords that would light up my intrigue centers
the phrasing that invited me to a secret closet door,
the path in which would lead me
to the real meaning behind the reason you were made.
though i would only be able to catch the surface
the what it’s about
for years
until you happened to me
i happened for you
to non fictionize you
to make you history
the kind of truth that you can’t just make up
but did you though?
let’s start at a random spot because there are too many versions
too many starting points
too many origins
for me to say that one is THE one
aside from the beginning of my life- but even that starts way before me
my relationships with song
the song that i would encounter by chance mostly
some angel would bestow our meet cute onto an unsuspecting me
little did I know how starving and desperate for a new anthem I was
always
when I would find my new victim
first I would love bomb you
I would let you know just how special you were
playing you all the time
and when given the power of authority in my art classroom
I pretended to let the students have a say
but when they inevitably didn’t know what they wanted to say,
didn’t know themselves well enough to know what they liked
so I took over, playing you hard
as often as I could without causing mutiny
sometimes back to back.
on my way to work you would validate the cortisol coursing through my veins
you gave story to a sensation that easily could have been categorized as an
emotion
but I didn’t speak that language
and my mind certainly didn’t when my body spoke
so you narrated the epic of the heroine
just trying to survive
and enjoy it until she really could enjoy it
you drove me home and listened to the stories you elicited from my mind
made them make sense
and depending on my fight/flight status
I would get to know you a little, bother to look up your lyrics
before spotify posted them
or before I knew that spotify posted them
and do the leg work to guess at your meaning
where you came from
I never knew anything about your parents
or home
or peers
I just knew that I liked you
and by that I mean
I liked how I felt on you
with you in me
with you next in the queue
on your way over after a long ass day
your control over me
please
just take me
and you would
over and over again
and soon
there would be a moment unbeknownst to both of us
that would change everything
it was when my body realized you couldn’t do this forever
you couldn’t be everything I needed forever
and for some reason
I need forever
because deep inside of me
i know that’s why i am here
but at the beginning of a life that spans until forever
this covert decision to start to ruin our relationship
to let you keep playing when actually- I am kinda overstimulated right now
and
why aren’t you pulling me out of that?
..you used to be able to
so
are you just tired or are you trying to
prove a point?
I knowIhaven’treallybeenpresent the past few times whenweweretogetherin the car
things have gotten so busy
i shouldn’t have to explain myself to you, to a stupid song
that I don’t even like anymore
and just like that
i killed you
sometimes i had another song waiting
being groomed for prime position in the playlist labeled some version of
Run
Spring run
pregnant run
weird that my favorites were grouped into the adrenaline seekers anonymous side of my library
almost like i enjoyed
high speed panic
driving at 76mph, my mind filled with stories to match
was the perfect companion to my addiction to using music to be
to be.
this new song might be a true favorite,
like you were
and they might be a close 2nd or 14th
but they function in two ways as a rebound
their beat might be punchy enough that i can stop making decisions about how to react to the experience
or they might have a melody that speaks me better than you did
which isn’t your fault because
I found out later
you were telling me where i was headed
predicting my fate
you were telling the truth
the tragedy that drew me to your lyrics
the way that you described an experience that I could only imagine
in notes that squeezed my soul
did I long for this and draw it to me
or did you write this chapter of my saga
a decade and a half later
i’m unrecognizable
and you are as potent as the day i first met you
you come back in a few years before hand
to not scare me
to not bombard me as to miss
the significance of you in my life. you are a warning
and a record
a witness
the worst had just happened a couple times already in the weeks before
and it was a preface to the next worst
in between, my life as I knew it
as i made it
as I cared for it
and worried about it
as i forced it
as i fucked it up
as i took it back
was changing
dying
exploding
seeing clearly for the first time
I saw the sign
blatantly on the public records website
i knew
if i didn’t leave tonight
i would not be in charge of this next life i was meant to have
i would not be in possession of my child
my home
my everything
and with the stealth and instinct of a bond villain
i put up my best diversion
and drove a drive i’ve driven
for many an epic reason
in the past
none ever to escape
the abuse
that i felt unworthy to claim
a victimhood
that wasn’t mine
it couldnt
i wasn’t fleeing to hide
i was giving time to my enemies
i was giving them a headstart
they had proven they needed it
and were going to get the grace
that my irish goodbye provided
the words that would come to join the ranks of many others
that came before you, Odessa
and more that would follow your lead
in narrating the life of messy af messiah
cue the worried looks
the concernsss
choose your own adventure you judgy rubber necker
go to this one
or this one- you won’t get to choose my outcome really
just how you come out of this experience with me.
because you won’t be without me
not now
and not anymore.
Did i approach you and tell you
how it vital it was
that you do what you do best
that you make what you make
that you live the life you need to live
make the music
write the song
help me find me
on the other side
and I will give you what I have
I will be what you need
I will make sure
you know how special
and vital
to this universe you are
Were you inside a lover of mine?
did you experience the me that they did?
how was I
did we do it? Did I mess up?
Did you meet me as a lover of a different type
a romance of minds only, physically never
some of my friends touched me
hugs mostly, some squeezes
but could it be that whoever I touched
or touched me
translated it into their dreams
for everyone to see
how it vital it was
that you do what you do best
that you make what you make
that you live the life you need to live
make the music
write the song
help me find me
on the other side
and I will give you what I have
I will be what you need
I will make sure
you know how special
and vital
to this universe you are
Were you inside a lover of mine?
did you experience the me that they did?
how was I
did we do it? Did I mess up?
Did you meet me as a lover of a different type
a romance of minds only, physically never
some of my friends touched me
hugs mostly, some squeezes
but could it be that whoever I touched
or touched me
translated it into their dreams
for everyone to see
as I opened this document
to tell you something else
i realized my favorite color is officially black
and that may not be a surprise
had you seen me in my work uniform
or bedroom or just ever
but would it surprise you to know
that i have always liked black the most
but I wasn’t allowed to
because in my head there was a rule
that was established by the governing bodies at be
it must be a color of the rainbow
and it can’t be a color that someone in your family already claimed
it’s like we are powerrangers
both of us can’t be the green one
so I found second best colors to like
and I tried my best to love them as fully as I could
appreciate them when I see them out in the world
remember about 10 seconds into the conversation that
you are actually my favorite
officially
since 7 years ago
and I often think about other second bests
wondering if they were actually the primary second best
had I guessed my own favorite kinda color wrong again?
it wasn’t until I met a ten year old who I’d already known for half her life
where I was faced with a massive decision
when I heard from her mom that she had told people
everyone really, even in her classroom
that black was her favorite color. I was speechless
“wow” I nervously sputtered “you can do that?” I wondered
almost 10 years into my career as an art teacher
I’m sure you’ve had a similar moment in your life
things are feeling really hard, really confusing
and then you find out that this incredible young lady
has just fought and won a battle that’s been unbeknownst to you- been going on for years.
and she didn’t even act like she cared
It took a few years for that realization to set in that i too could pick black for my favorite color.
Was I bold enough to pull it off?
I had to wait til she stopped making it hers anyway
and that wouldn’t happen until years later
when my 3 year old declared that I couldn’t like my
second favorite color
because grandpa said it was his favorite color.
I mean no, that’s not how it works. but I see why you might think so
I see how you got there, my red loving friend
i’ve never met a person more confident in their favorite than my son
he is the first to call it out when we see it in any situation, public or private
always giving props to red, ‘youmeanmyfavoritecolor red’
he says all those words everytime i point out his favorite color red
Red’s got nothing to worry about, they’ve got their ride or die
Black on the other hand, was calling me
and I couldn’t ignore it any longer
what does it mean to be someone who claims black
is she more mysterious than I am?
how often does she rep the black, is that desperate?
to tell you something else
i realized my favorite color is officially black
and that may not be a surprise
had you seen me in my work uniform
or bedroom or just ever
but would it surprise you to know
that i have always liked black the most
but I wasn’t allowed to
because in my head there was a rule
that was established by the governing bodies at be
it must be a color of the rainbow
and it can’t be a color that someone in your family already claimed
it’s like we are powerrangers
both of us can’t be the green one
so I found second best colors to like
and I tried my best to love them as fully as I could
appreciate them when I see them out in the world
remember about 10 seconds into the conversation that
you are actually my favorite
officially
since 7 years ago
and I often think about other second bests
wondering if they were actually the primary second best
had I guessed my own favorite kinda color wrong again?
it wasn’t until I met a ten year old who I’d already known for half her life
where I was faced with a massive decision
when I heard from her mom that she had told people
everyone really, even in her classroom
that black was her favorite color. I was speechless
“wow” I nervously sputtered “you can do that?” I wondered
almost 10 years into my career as an art teacher
I’m sure you’ve had a similar moment in your life
things are feeling really hard, really confusing
and then you find out that this incredible young lady
has just fought and won a battle that’s been unbeknownst to you- been going on for years.
and she didn’t even act like she cared
It took a few years for that realization to set in that i too could pick black for my favorite color.
Was I bold enough to pull it off?
I had to wait til she stopped making it hers anyway
and that wouldn’t happen until years later
when my 3 year old declared that I couldn’t like my
second favorite color
because grandpa said it was his favorite color.
I mean no, that’s not how it works. but I see why you might think so
I see how you got there, my red loving friend
i’ve never met a person more confident in their favorite than my son
he is the first to call it out when we see it in any situation, public or private
always giving props to red, ‘youmeanmyfavoritecolor red’
he says all those words everytime i point out his favorite color red
Red’s got nothing to worry about, they’ve got their ride or die
Black on the other hand, was calling me
and I couldn’t ignore it any longer
what does it mean to be someone who claims black
is she more mysterious than I am?
how often does she rep the black, is that desperate?
so what do I do when I find them
or they find me
when those emotions that have been holding off
or being held off by my capacity for them
when I am doing ok
finally
and finding it easier to be light and free
when they come and confront me
mad at me for not knowing they were even there.
Why didnt I let them
I acted like they didn’t even exist
because they didn’t exist for me
there was no reservation
no alarm bells
indications that something was going on the whole time
none
why do I feel guilty for pushing them away?
they hurt
is that because that’s why they are here
or is that because they were sold a story too
they think they deserve to take up space in my mind
in my time
in myself
they feel that because they happened and I didn’t know it
that I owe them
and do I owe them
my happiness? cuz I just found it
it’s my new toy that I worked and saved up all my pain to buy
I cashed out the suffering I could find
for this shiny new joy
that I am now being told I need to share
share with them because why
because they are part of me
because we share a series of experiences
pain and guilt and suffering
could it be that this is actually not the energy I thought it was
could it be that I did an excellent job of shielding myself back then from stories
that I don’t believe in
but I was forced to believe in it when I was younger
and when I didn’t believe in it
I was made afraid
afraid of all the things it could mean about me
when i started to show my disbelief
I was attacked
my character
what kind of person I was
all of it gone
in a moment of assault
I was stripped when i had nothing to give anyway
You can’t talk about what you don’t have language for
and that’s where my imaginary world of no words started forming inside of me
the cave of unknown unknowns both too black to see yet
it is the deepest, largest hole there ever was
when I was left to cry it out
did I create an entirely new universe?
one that’s meant for the souls that thought they could handle
a species that refused to feel
the reality of the world in front of them
leaving it to the babies
to take on for them
Well all I want to know is whether I have to sit with these emotions that feel
like they are trying to hurt me again
is safety knowing that i don’t need to engage with those because they aren’t actual emotions
they are the remnants of emotions that are still waiting to be felt as love
so maybe there’s a way to see this from an angle that gets the entirety of the situation into the light
or they find me
when those emotions that have been holding off
or being held off by my capacity for them
when I am doing ok
finally
and finding it easier to be light and free
when they come and confront me
mad at me for not knowing they were even there.
Why didnt I let them
I acted like they didn’t even exist
because they didn’t exist for me
there was no reservation
no alarm bells
indications that something was going on the whole time
none
why do I feel guilty for pushing them away?
they hurt
is that because that’s why they are here
or is that because they were sold a story too
they think they deserve to take up space in my mind
in my time
in myself
they feel that because they happened and I didn’t know it
that I owe them
and do I owe them
my happiness? cuz I just found it
it’s my new toy that I worked and saved up all my pain to buy
I cashed out the suffering I could find
for this shiny new joy
that I am now being told I need to share
share with them because why
because they are part of me
because we share a series of experiences
pain and guilt and suffering
could it be that this is actually not the energy I thought it was
could it be that I did an excellent job of shielding myself back then from stories
that I don’t believe in
but I was forced to believe in it when I was younger
and when I didn’t believe in it
I was made afraid
afraid of all the things it could mean about me
when i started to show my disbelief
I was attacked
my character
what kind of person I was
all of it gone
in a moment of assault
I was stripped when i had nothing to give anyway
You can’t talk about what you don’t have language for
and that’s where my imaginary world of no words started forming inside of me
the cave of unknown unknowns both too black to see yet
it is the deepest, largest hole there ever was
when I was left to cry it out
did I create an entirely new universe?
one that’s meant for the souls that thought they could handle
a species that refused to feel
the reality of the world in front of them
leaving it to the babies
to take on for them
Well all I want to know is whether I have to sit with these emotions that feel
like they are trying to hurt me again
is safety knowing that i don’t need to engage with those because they aren’t actual emotions
they are the remnants of emotions that are still waiting to be felt as love
so maybe there’s a way to see this from an angle that gets the entirety of the situation into the light
scary to start this one
i take back that capital S
no formal, must be a casual poem
started randomly
without the secret I’m im holding
peering over my shoulder wondering if this is the one
worst thing you can be is a victim
because no hope
its all done with
the labels there and all the reasons to be avoided now
could this be a collective gift
of exile for preparation
a cocoon of new expectations
this is too heavy to take seriously right now
My cycles are not set by the moon
nor are they set even by the blood that leaves me each month
they follow a much more mysterious rhythm, that of the unhealed man
also by the unhealed mom
and used to take influence from the unhealed sister
It’s not that they are unhealed that is a problem
for so am I
but it is in the fact they don’t know they are unhealed
that gave them access to my moods and stories
but without getting poetic about it
my cycles of up and down and what the fuck is going on
actually coincide with the level of exhaustion and surprise at said exhaustion of the man who used to be my property
I kept him well, even though I had never had a pet husband before
he was fun in the childhood of our relationship
even though his tantrums were always there
I had never seen a tantrum like his before
it was hidden in the same disguise as my last and only partners
it was workaholism
nor are they set even by the blood that leaves me each month
they follow a much more mysterious rhythm, that of the unhealed man
also by the unhealed mom
and used to take influence from the unhealed sister
It’s not that they are unhealed that is a problem
for so am I
but it is in the fact they don’t know they are unhealed
that gave them access to my moods and stories
but without getting poetic about it
my cycles of up and down and what the fuck is going on
actually coincide with the level of exhaustion and surprise at said exhaustion of the man who used to be my property
I kept him well, even though I had never had a pet husband before
he was fun in the childhood of our relationship
even though his tantrums were always there
I had never seen a tantrum like his before
it was hidden in the same disguise as my last and only partners
it was workaholism
if you can't teach.. do?
just was dancing a little, didn’t think i’d get there today but I did
I want to make a series of videos to teach my students the things I learned since leaving teaching to heal and be a goddamn artist
all the things I wish I’d said
teach them about emotions
also, the person I was when I taught a class that had a good vibe was my most authentic self
I was my most charismatic, my most in my element in those moments. and there were a lot
it’s a funny thing to find yourself
and your easiest person to relate to is a high school boy
and if my best crowd is moving through puberty as best they can,
the ones who’d appreciate my best material is my coworkers, my supporting cast
it was the ms drummy show 24/7 in room 107
you could see her at one of her 3 showings of beginner drawing, her 2nd year painters, and then her navy seals: the AP artists
on the front lines, feeling all the feelings that the rest of the world is too afraid to.
Usually these soldiers are ill-equiped to manage or process all these feelings, stories, beliefs
thrown at them
and boy do they stick, absorb, saturate.
and depending on how seen he feels by those supposed to be witnessing greatness
he will make mistakes, take big risks, and get one or two moments of creative genius realized in a medium he didn’t even think he liked
These amateurs face the harshest initiations, as their taste is excellent,
but their skills are nowhere near the level they have made their own pre-requisites to be
it’s a sensitivity so intense that any moment not meeting the potential they know is there,
is active suffering
we are all over here living these epic tales every single hour.
the fears instilled, are more accurately installed
and we face those terrifyingly silent abysses each time we start a new project.
What if who I really am shows up and makes me feel more than I’m already intellectualizing
I know that’s my deepest desire, to be real
but there’s a reason the bottom of the ocean is one of my greatest fears.
it’s not the sensations of dying or anything like that.
it’s the immensity of it. of knowing how to know that I can’t fathom how giant the ocean is
and when I return from that daydream, it’s block 5 and they are tired like me
at least some of them look sweaty like they intramuraled
but those were some of our best conversations
those exhausted days. those days that we were too tired to care that I could have gotten you in trouble for the details of your genuine request for guidance,
that maybe there was someone who’d tell it to you like it is… at least she tries
the song friends by night tales just came on
and I am loving this shift that I am giving myself permission to make
my students are my friends, who I know better than they know themselves, duh,
but I guarantee if they were encouraged a little longer than a year of art 1,
they’d be able to tell me more than I could ever imagine about me
in ways that I’d have reverence for
the way I have reverence for my son when he tells me to stop looking at him or to stop talking when he’s upset.
I am amazed at the audacity, proud of the confidence, and in awe of the ability to do something that I have not. Respect is what I have- mad respect
You see, if you aren’t in the business of developing the youth, you may not know
there is no curriculum for how to human, but there’s a whole bunch of snapshots out there in the form of movies, shows, music, social media
and if you don’t know whether you are for or against the content
it will be adopted while you weren’t looking and become teenage dogma
Sounds like a good scapegoat for the way we have let things get, as the people alive right now.
social media saved humanity though. this is what that process looks like
we are transitioning, which is notoriously difficult for neurodivergent minds.
but
i think we are finally feeling safe as a planet to air our grievances,
and surprise, there are a lot
but that’s how it goes with trauma right? we realize it- it’s terrifying and we almost dont let it be true.
but then we know we have to and we allow ourselves to wail, to cry
in the synesthetic ways that we have been forced to learn how,
I was under the impression that crying meant I was sad
if i wasn’t crying, something must not be wrong.
but then social media told me that crying is not the only way to know something wants adjusting
and then nothing was ever the same
the world is getting the childhood trauma all out of our system
it was a messy messy road to get here
but what great story isn’t
and we want that
let me tell you if you didn’t know
we want that
we want to claim the crazy that we have lived
the desperate we have tried
the despair we swam in til we were prunes
the times we dodged death and still haven’t given ourselves credit for
if you think about it, we are on the precipice of an actual chance at the greener grass
and before I forget why I typed all this out,
it’s because these art heroes who may take after their van gogh ancestor not long ago
and go unrecognized,
uncherished
un supported for their ability to see much farther into the future than most
and unappreciated for their strength in preserving the vision until the world is ready.
if i could tell you how important it is for all of us that you hold onto your vision,
in a way that you’d believe me
in a way that you’d find that worrying was no longer a wise investment of your time.
I would quit my job and go do just that.
I told you before I knew that I was in my last year, the generations before you have been busy
tearing down the shit that isn’t working
so that you can come in with your optimism and shiny new abilities to cocreate with AI
the gift from the baby boomers.
if their upbringing taught them anything
it’s that you better be prepared
and once technology started to show them how good it could get
they got scared and started to hoard
just as they saw their parents do
then gen X got a shellshocked parent, peer combo
and started to wonder with all the great movies and music going on
could it really be that bad
as these severely traumatized, emotionally neglected full grown adults
told tales of homelessness
drug addiction
community college degrees
and not doing what was expected
because how dare you disrespect my dreams for you like that?
So gen x, depending on your exposure to certain antidotes,
was either jaded, or fired up to start caring about
hunger, trash, and people
and then came the generation that was the guinea pig for world wide interconnectedness
and with the rise of forensic files and true crime podcasts,
the boomers got to live out their fantasies of having actual proof of how bad it could be
and we couldn’t not watch, because there was something so familiar about this outcome,
it was like all the ones we’d been taught to look out for
and thank god we were, otherwise we wouldn’t have worried our way into safety and out of reality,
As a millennial, I can confidently say that I have taken full advantage of my-
meh I’m tired lol
just was dancing a little, didn’t think i’d get there today but I did
I want to make a series of videos to teach my students the things I learned since leaving teaching to heal and be a goddamn artist
all the things I wish I’d said
teach them about emotions
also, the person I was when I taught a class that had a good vibe was my most authentic self
I was my most charismatic, my most in my element in those moments. and there were a lot
it’s a funny thing to find yourself
and your easiest person to relate to is a high school boy
and if my best crowd is moving through puberty as best they can,
the ones who’d appreciate my best material is my coworkers, my supporting cast
it was the ms drummy show 24/7 in room 107
you could see her at one of her 3 showings of beginner drawing, her 2nd year painters, and then her navy seals: the AP artists
on the front lines, feeling all the feelings that the rest of the world is too afraid to.
Usually these soldiers are ill-equiped to manage or process all these feelings, stories, beliefs
thrown at them
and boy do they stick, absorb, saturate.
and depending on how seen he feels by those supposed to be witnessing greatness
he will make mistakes, take big risks, and get one or two moments of creative genius realized in a medium he didn’t even think he liked
These amateurs face the harshest initiations, as their taste is excellent,
but their skills are nowhere near the level they have made their own pre-requisites to be
it’s a sensitivity so intense that any moment not meeting the potential they know is there,
is active suffering
we are all over here living these epic tales every single hour.
the fears instilled, are more accurately installed
and we face those terrifyingly silent abysses each time we start a new project.
What if who I really am shows up and makes me feel more than I’m already intellectualizing
I know that’s my deepest desire, to be real
but there’s a reason the bottom of the ocean is one of my greatest fears.
it’s not the sensations of dying or anything like that.
it’s the immensity of it. of knowing how to know that I can’t fathom how giant the ocean is
and when I return from that daydream, it’s block 5 and they are tired like me
at least some of them look sweaty like they intramuraled
but those were some of our best conversations
those exhausted days. those days that we were too tired to care that I could have gotten you in trouble for the details of your genuine request for guidance,
that maybe there was someone who’d tell it to you like it is… at least she tries
the song friends by night tales just came on
and I am loving this shift that I am giving myself permission to make
my students are my friends, who I know better than they know themselves, duh,
but I guarantee if they were encouraged a little longer than a year of art 1,
they’d be able to tell me more than I could ever imagine about me
in ways that I’d have reverence for
the way I have reverence for my son when he tells me to stop looking at him or to stop talking when he’s upset.
I am amazed at the audacity, proud of the confidence, and in awe of the ability to do something that I have not. Respect is what I have- mad respect
You see, if you aren’t in the business of developing the youth, you may not know
there is no curriculum for how to human, but there’s a whole bunch of snapshots out there in the form of movies, shows, music, social media
and if you don’t know whether you are for or against the content
it will be adopted while you weren’t looking and become teenage dogma
Sounds like a good scapegoat for the way we have let things get, as the people alive right now.
social media saved humanity though. this is what that process looks like
we are transitioning, which is notoriously difficult for neurodivergent minds.
but
i think we are finally feeling safe as a planet to air our grievances,
and surprise, there are a lot
but that’s how it goes with trauma right? we realize it- it’s terrifying and we almost dont let it be true.
but then we know we have to and we allow ourselves to wail, to cry
in the synesthetic ways that we have been forced to learn how,
I was under the impression that crying meant I was sad
if i wasn’t crying, something must not be wrong.
but then social media told me that crying is not the only way to know something wants adjusting
and then nothing was ever the same
the world is getting the childhood trauma all out of our system
it was a messy messy road to get here
but what great story isn’t
and we want that
let me tell you if you didn’t know
we want that
we want to claim the crazy that we have lived
the desperate we have tried
the despair we swam in til we were prunes
the times we dodged death and still haven’t given ourselves credit for
if you think about it, we are on the precipice of an actual chance at the greener grass
and before I forget why I typed all this out,
it’s because these art heroes who may take after their van gogh ancestor not long ago
and go unrecognized,
uncherished
un supported for their ability to see much farther into the future than most
and unappreciated for their strength in preserving the vision until the world is ready.
if i could tell you how important it is for all of us that you hold onto your vision,
in a way that you’d believe me
in a way that you’d find that worrying was no longer a wise investment of your time.
I would quit my job and go do just that.
I told you before I knew that I was in my last year, the generations before you have been busy
tearing down the shit that isn’t working
so that you can come in with your optimism and shiny new abilities to cocreate with AI
the gift from the baby boomers.
if their upbringing taught them anything
it’s that you better be prepared
and once technology started to show them how good it could get
they got scared and started to hoard
just as they saw their parents do
then gen X got a shellshocked parent, peer combo
and started to wonder with all the great movies and music going on
could it really be that bad
as these severely traumatized, emotionally neglected full grown adults
told tales of homelessness
drug addiction
community college degrees
and not doing what was expected
because how dare you disrespect my dreams for you like that?
So gen x, depending on your exposure to certain antidotes,
was either jaded, or fired up to start caring about
hunger, trash, and people
and then came the generation that was the guinea pig for world wide interconnectedness
and with the rise of forensic files and true crime podcasts,
the boomers got to live out their fantasies of having actual proof of how bad it could be
and we couldn’t not watch, because there was something so familiar about this outcome,
it was like all the ones we’d been taught to look out for
and thank god we were, otherwise we wouldn’t have worried our way into safety and out of reality,
As a millennial, I can confidently say that I have taken full advantage of my-
meh I’m tired lol
i don’t want to get involved
i imagine he said to himself at the beginning
she looks like she’s got this
I’ll step in if she says she needs me
I just don’t want to get involved
he adds the just around the millennium
because she’s acting like she doesn’t understand it sometimes
sometimes she works herself up and it’s none of my business
how she wants to be
she’s strong so she’ll tell me when or if she needs me
I really don’t need to be involved he reassures himself
as the starters are fouling out left and right
his human resources background
seems to only serve his bank account
it’s sturdiness
but when hysteria hits
that’s something else
I wonder what grandma was like
what she was really like
when she was who she couldn’t hide anymore
when the stuffing it down just didn’t hold
and the reality that she was on her own
became clear
I don’t think she ever yelled
and maybe her nervous system was built that way
but there’s gotta be a reason
behind this distinct pattern of partners
ones who’s wounds are much more exciting and flash in bright red
could it be that they display
in all of their glory
the anger they deserve to feel
deserve as in it’s their right
to be messy and loud as fuck
to be mad at you and mad at me
when we all know who’s the most in trouble
it’s the her that’s screaming
emoting
and feeling
in ways she really shouldn’t
I’ve never taken a good look at the timid michelle
who’s staring me in glances through the mirror
she’s finally found some decent posture
an identity she’s proud of
and the ability to control her anger
at least that’s how it looks
but controls got no part in it
we just became secret friends
and we play together, m.a.d. and me
we come up with fantastic takes on the
intensity we face
injecting humor wherever seething wants to simmer
we laugh and we cry with
the stories that we make
and this gift is what I take
from all of the survivors
who forged my constitution
with beaten down, tightly wound and sometimes unleashed
powerful command of realness.
It’s an honor to exercise my freedom of expression
and I owe it to her most of all.
she gave me a story that I couldn’t resist and it taught me everything I needed
to feel.
i imagine he said to himself at the beginning
she looks like she’s got this
I’ll step in if she says she needs me
I just don’t want to get involved
he adds the just around the millennium
because she’s acting like she doesn’t understand it sometimes
sometimes she works herself up and it’s none of my business
how she wants to be
she’s strong so she’ll tell me when or if she needs me
I really don’t need to be involved he reassures himself
as the starters are fouling out left and right
his human resources background
seems to only serve his bank account
it’s sturdiness
but when hysteria hits
that’s something else
I wonder what grandma was like
what she was really like
when she was who she couldn’t hide anymore
when the stuffing it down just didn’t hold
and the reality that she was on her own
became clear
I don’t think she ever yelled
and maybe her nervous system was built that way
but there’s gotta be a reason
behind this distinct pattern of partners
ones who’s wounds are much more exciting and flash in bright red
could it be that they display
in all of their glory
the anger they deserve to feel
deserve as in it’s their right
to be messy and loud as fuck
to be mad at you and mad at me
when we all know who’s the most in trouble
it’s the her that’s screaming
emoting
and feeling
in ways she really shouldn’t
I’ve never taken a good look at the timid michelle
who’s staring me in glances through the mirror
she’s finally found some decent posture
an identity she’s proud of
and the ability to control her anger
at least that’s how it looks
but controls got no part in it
we just became secret friends
and we play together, m.a.d. and me
we come up with fantastic takes on the
intensity we face
injecting humor wherever seething wants to simmer
we laugh and we cry with
the stories that we make
and this gift is what I take
from all of the survivors
who forged my constitution
with beaten down, tightly wound and sometimes unleashed
powerful command of realness.
It’s an honor to exercise my freedom of expression
and I owe it to her most of all.
she gave me a story that I couldn’t resist and it taught me everything I needed
to feel.
impressed
we want impressive, to be pressed in, inside
we want to do it to others too
I’m impressed all the time
and I take it seriously
like when I like it, I really like it
I am all about you, letting you all over me, inside my cells, permeating my what it all means, giving you my mood, and signing up for your definition of who I am because it feels so good to find new good
and then I let myself daydream
of someone doing that to me, to my art, to my thoughts, to my actions to my
face, my hip sway, my sadness
if you can see it
you see I was saving it,
i went on auto mode, shielding my interior with my face’s performance of shock, disgust, disappointment, angry, hurt,
all the information from your attempts to love me with betrayal, rejection and abandon, without abandon?
I was storing in for later when I could open it and with great ceremony (love that line don draper) savor it
I just hope that you are getting what you wanted from the exchange because
i’m letting you.
we want impressive, to be pressed in, inside
we want to do it to others too
I’m impressed all the time
and I take it seriously
like when I like it, I really like it
I am all about you, letting you all over me, inside my cells, permeating my what it all means, giving you my mood, and signing up for your definition of who I am because it feels so good to find new good
and then I let myself daydream
of someone doing that to me, to my art, to my thoughts, to my actions to my
face, my hip sway, my sadness
if you can see it
you see I was saving it,
i went on auto mode, shielding my interior with my face’s performance of shock, disgust, disappointment, angry, hurt,
all the information from your attempts to love me with betrayal, rejection and abandon, without abandon?
I was storing in for later when I could open it and with great ceremony (love that line don draper) savor it
I just hope that you are getting what you wanted from the exchange because
i’m letting you.
thinking when people die
its like when you get knocked out of a race and go to a separate waiting room with the others who are out,
they are all watching on the screen and then
the next person walks in, sees how it really is and is like no wayyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy
I think everyone dying now is super bitter
because they thought just being a part of the transition to the world of immortals
would be enough
but then they see
I’m moving like I won’t live forever,
but that’s the old me
not being able to understand that it doesn’t actually work that way
I strategize to defend myself
like it’ll be necessary
when the rest of the collective knows,
they saw
what I couldn’t see until
I believed
Could I be the best at loving myself?
getting there through learning
I feel called to send out the call
Fear is sitting here telling me that it couldn’t be that easy
I can’t believe that the reason I got this far is because the village that raised me didn’t have a plan
already
I am caught
witnessed
held
lifted
by you who sees this now.
You shared your scars so I could make them mine too,
the languages you each created to communicate to me
that you were there
and I was there too
I guess I blacked out for a moment there.
Catch me up on what I missed
I want to know everything.
I want to see what the place looks like since you’ve been working on it
I can’t wait to celebrate with you all
to make more with you all
to lift you up for your bravery
to see your fails as badges of courage
to cringe with you about our moments where our emotional blindness
made us look like we didn’t know what was going on
but
it’s all good
apparently we all figured it out in the end of the beginning.
Are we doing reparenting?
art camp?
are the 1% coming to save the day!?
or is it way fucking cooler than that
I hope I have no earthly idea
its like when you get knocked out of a race and go to a separate waiting room with the others who are out,
they are all watching on the screen and then
the next person walks in, sees how it really is and is like no wayyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy
I think everyone dying now is super bitter
because they thought just being a part of the transition to the world of immortals
would be enough
but then they see
I’m moving like I won’t live forever,
but that’s the old me
not being able to understand that it doesn’t actually work that way
I strategize to defend myself
like it’ll be necessary
when the rest of the collective knows,
they saw
what I couldn’t see until
I believed
Could I be the best at loving myself?
getting there through learning
I feel called to send out the call
Fear is sitting here telling me that it couldn’t be that easy
I can’t believe that the reason I got this far is because the village that raised me didn’t have a plan
already
I am caught
witnessed
held
lifted
by you who sees this now.
You shared your scars so I could make them mine too,
the languages you each created to communicate to me
that you were there
and I was there too
I guess I blacked out for a moment there.
Catch me up on what I missed
I want to know everything.
I want to see what the place looks like since you’ve been working on it
I can’t wait to celebrate with you all
to make more with you all
to lift you up for your bravery
to see your fails as badges of courage
to cringe with you about our moments where our emotional blindness
made us look like we didn’t know what was going on
but
it’s all good
apparently we all figured it out in the end of the beginning.
Are we doing reparenting?
art camp?
are the 1% coming to save the day!?
or is it way fucking cooler than that
I hope I have no earthly idea
SOS
please send help!
my husband and parents can’t support my bad decisions anymore
they are in desperate need of some funds to pay the mortgage I paid for the entirety of our time in this home i made
shitty self absorbed mom doesn’t even begin to describe the role i’ve taken on
you know she’s taking something, multiple things
blinding her to how guilty she should feel
someone get through to this ungrateful for the opportunity to be alive-er
she claims she never asked to be here but it’s the drugs talking
we knocked all the cents we could into her and
she just went and ruined her life by allowing herself to go crazy in the
most selfish way.
it all started when I found the reason, and then I found another reason
and then I found all the reasons at once
and I’ve never found a reason that changed everything before
and then they kept coming but everything kept looking
not the way it was supposed to
and then everyone acted opposite to how they would have before
before the way it all changed
please send help!
my husband and parents can’t support my bad decisions anymore
they are in desperate need of some funds to pay the mortgage I paid for the entirety of our time in this home i made
shitty self absorbed mom doesn’t even begin to describe the role i’ve taken on
you know she’s taking something, multiple things
blinding her to how guilty she should feel
someone get through to this ungrateful for the opportunity to be alive-er
she claims she never asked to be here but it’s the drugs talking
we knocked all the cents we could into her and
she just went and ruined her life by allowing herself to go crazy in the
most selfish way.
it all started when I found the reason, and then I found another reason
and then I found all the reasons at once
and I’ve never found a reason that changed everything before
and then they kept coming but everything kept looking
not the way it was supposed to
and then everyone acted opposite to how they would have before
before the way it all changed
To those who hurt me,
though you did not intend to
or maybe you did
I am not offended
nor am I disappointed
I understand completely
more than you could ever know
I needed you differently
that’s what I thought at the time
but time healed my ignorance
my opinions of you and what you meant to me.
did I think it was fucked up.
yes I did.
but I am an athlete and I know how to use that
as fuel to show you
just how right I was. Lucky, yes
but I will say I told you so once- at least you can give me that.
and an apology I will take because it’s an artform
that I appreciate more than most.
It needed to happen that way and you all played your parts beautifully
because of you, I now see a whole new side of humanity that I otherwise would not
have the privilege to see.
I am becoming who I always was, but
I never knew before I met you.
it was through our time together, in this unique ending for our species,
that I remembered why I came here.
It’s only good news from here if you let it
it’s all downhill because
we’ve all been working on it
it’s time to see what’s been baking this whole time.
because it smells delicious
and you know how I like things undercooked.
we need to bake the other half of this time here together.
can’t wait to collaborate with you again one day.
though you did not intend to
or maybe you did
I am not offended
nor am I disappointed
I understand completely
more than you could ever know
I needed you differently
that’s what I thought at the time
but time healed my ignorance
my opinions of you and what you meant to me.
did I think it was fucked up.
yes I did.
but I am an athlete and I know how to use that
as fuel to show you
just how right I was. Lucky, yes
but I will say I told you so once- at least you can give me that.
and an apology I will take because it’s an artform
that I appreciate more than most.
It needed to happen that way and you all played your parts beautifully
because of you, I now see a whole new side of humanity that I otherwise would not
have the privilege to see.
I am becoming who I always was, but
I never knew before I met you.
it was through our time together, in this unique ending for our species,
that I remembered why I came here.
It’s only good news from here if you let it
it’s all downhill because
we’ve all been working on it
it’s time to see what’s been baking this whole time.
because it smells delicious
and you know how I like things undercooked.
we need to bake the other half of this time here together.
can’t wait to collaborate with you again one day.
It’s the water
not the water
but in the water
she remembers and she gets dumped into the oceans
sadness upon sadness adding heaviness to the bottom,
to all the ships and anglerfish
trying to enjoy
the pressure put continuously on them
where’s the light? we don’t know
not the water
but in the water
she remembers and she gets dumped into the oceans
sadness upon sadness adding heaviness to the bottom,
to all the ships and anglerfish
trying to enjoy
the pressure put continuously on them
where’s the light? we don’t know
god is in the computers
in the algorithms that place my next mental step in front of my eyes
the shuffle function was used sparingly at first because
i can’t handle a range when I’m not sure if I’ll make it to tomorrow
it must be heavy and deep, the beat and bass
the sounds lure me in and the drop is where I fall
if i am to let my beast out for a walk, she must be able to run
without obstacles to devour
because she will devour
she has before
in the algorithms that place my next mental step in front of my eyes
the shuffle function was used sparingly at first because
i can’t handle a range when I’m not sure if I’ll make it to tomorrow
it must be heavy and deep, the beat and bass
the sounds lure me in and the drop is where I fall
if i am to let my beast out for a walk, she must be able to run
without obstacles to devour
because she will devour
she has before
Here’s what I’d tell you if I knew you’d hear me
that you’ve been duped
that he was going through something heavy and dark that was always there
I just simply brought out and up to the surface
He confided in me while we were in a different space
we connected in ways we never had
but we misgauged the exit of the love trips we took
and he was left in need of those molecules
but i thought I had an ally in you,
we connected when we first met
it was over the amygdala
and how grateful we are for the psychology that we know
and you told me you couldn’t believe it
never thought you’d see the day
but your heart was full to have me
I felt most comfortable when you were there,
for some reason that’s not usually how the holidays worked out
and i was in awe at your happiness or at least thats what it looked like
in the form of your new home new life before my very eyes
When things started turning, I was learning who I was
and i had to shovel off a lifetime of emotional blindness
of expectations to be obliged
to be uncomfortable
to be in pain
to make sure it all looked as it should
Only I didn’t know that’s what it was
had I known, this wouldn’t have happened
this relationship that went from ok to harmful
and by the time violence appeared on the wall
I guess it was too late
because your saving the day happened for him while I received judgement
“she couldn’t believe how messy the house was”
describing your reaction to his wall hole
and I have no reason to believe it was otherwise
when you sat in front of me months later and said you wanted to know how you could help and to please commit myself to a facility for your own feelings of security
one time I read the texts as the phone was left on and son awake,
as so often would happen during his shifts while he was on
and no him was anywhere to be found
you made fun of me and my assigning of books that
described the situation that was happening to me
and called me crazy and told him to not engage with a crazy homeless person
his avoidance of hard conversations makes sense now,
and you made fun of the way that I talked so much
when he told me he wanted to hear me
you didn’t know of course,
that i was invited to do these things,
that he realized “some people need a word count of 1500, I need double”
and that he had no idea that when I expressed my frustration and sadness without a tear
that I meant it and he didn’t know it
he told me he realized that when he said that “he knew”
but really he believed I was lying.
and that was a big moment for us both because it freed us
from the delusion of closeness we prized
it was a step in the direction of transparency
so you could see why the small inner child in me was ecstatic
but this was a cruel joke, played by the universe on us
because he left it there and i ran with it
I thought he was working to get to know me and love me
but he was instead turning inwards and secretly imploding
the defensiveness came next with all of the normal signs
signs that I didn’t know their many guises
I could find excuses for each of his dick moves
and getting him to understand how he was hurting me became my soul mission
When you refuse to be told that you did something inconsiderate
over and over and over
it comes as a shock when that person blows up
because they are being grossly mistreated
and so what he did, I don’t think he planned
but honestly, he most likely did
because if I know anything about a parent like mine, its that I will look for them in each lover I take until I know
and I spoke to your mom about these checklist of qualities that he himself agreed
and your mom said that’s just how men are and I asked what about yours
and she said oh well he’s a different level.
I told her, and I’m proud that I said it out loud,
but she’s not the one who needs to hear it
that I too deserve a different level.
by the time you sat in front of me, I knew for months it was coming
that you didn’t actually want to know how to help.
that you were duped by both of them
into thinking that there was a cause and it was me
for my own struggles, for my own unmasking, for my own eating disorder
one that I’ve had since 15 years ago,
when this happened before
but I just wanted you to know that so much could have gone different and
i don’t even wish it would now.
I know that this was best for all of us involved
and that you were never the person I thought you were.
you were his and that’s clear now.
that you’ve been duped
that he was going through something heavy and dark that was always there
I just simply brought out and up to the surface
He confided in me while we were in a different space
we connected in ways we never had
but we misgauged the exit of the love trips we took
and he was left in need of those molecules
but i thought I had an ally in you,
we connected when we first met
it was over the amygdala
and how grateful we are for the psychology that we know
and you told me you couldn’t believe it
never thought you’d see the day
but your heart was full to have me
I felt most comfortable when you were there,
for some reason that’s not usually how the holidays worked out
and i was in awe at your happiness or at least thats what it looked like
in the form of your new home new life before my very eyes
When things started turning, I was learning who I was
and i had to shovel off a lifetime of emotional blindness
of expectations to be obliged
to be uncomfortable
to be in pain
to make sure it all looked as it should
Only I didn’t know that’s what it was
had I known, this wouldn’t have happened
this relationship that went from ok to harmful
and by the time violence appeared on the wall
I guess it was too late
because your saving the day happened for him while I received judgement
“she couldn’t believe how messy the house was”
describing your reaction to his wall hole
and I have no reason to believe it was otherwise
when you sat in front of me months later and said you wanted to know how you could help and to please commit myself to a facility for your own feelings of security
one time I read the texts as the phone was left on and son awake,
as so often would happen during his shifts while he was on
and no him was anywhere to be found
you made fun of me and my assigning of books that
described the situation that was happening to me
and called me crazy and told him to not engage with a crazy homeless person
his avoidance of hard conversations makes sense now,
and you made fun of the way that I talked so much
when he told me he wanted to hear me
you didn’t know of course,
that i was invited to do these things,
that he realized “some people need a word count of 1500, I need double”
and that he had no idea that when I expressed my frustration and sadness without a tear
that I meant it and he didn’t know it
he told me he realized that when he said that “he knew”
but really he believed I was lying.
and that was a big moment for us both because it freed us
from the delusion of closeness we prized
it was a step in the direction of transparency
so you could see why the small inner child in me was ecstatic
but this was a cruel joke, played by the universe on us
because he left it there and i ran with it
I thought he was working to get to know me and love me
but he was instead turning inwards and secretly imploding
the defensiveness came next with all of the normal signs
signs that I didn’t know their many guises
I could find excuses for each of his dick moves
and getting him to understand how he was hurting me became my soul mission
When you refuse to be told that you did something inconsiderate
over and over and over
it comes as a shock when that person blows up
because they are being grossly mistreated
and so what he did, I don’t think he planned
but honestly, he most likely did
because if I know anything about a parent like mine, its that I will look for them in each lover I take until I know
and I spoke to your mom about these checklist of qualities that he himself agreed
and your mom said that’s just how men are and I asked what about yours
and she said oh well he’s a different level.
I told her, and I’m proud that I said it out loud,
but she’s not the one who needs to hear it
that I too deserve a different level.
by the time you sat in front of me, I knew for months it was coming
that you didn’t actually want to know how to help.
that you were duped by both of them
into thinking that there was a cause and it was me
for my own struggles, for my own unmasking, for my own eating disorder
one that I’ve had since 15 years ago,
when this happened before
but I just wanted you to know that so much could have gone different and
i don’t even wish it would now.
I know that this was best for all of us involved
and that you were never the person I thought you were.
you were his and that’s clear now.
i wish you fucking felt bad
when you know you made me feel bad
and I wish I didn’t know you felt that way
I wish it was before when
i thought it was in my control
to opt in for a nicer treatment of your person
I wish you wanted to get better fast
in order to better serve me
to please me
to delight me
to make me see how wrong they were about me
I wish you thought about the times
when you were this way with me
when you thought to surprise and show me the beauty of life
in the ways that you see
I wish that the words I was left with
to describe the way you make me feel
wasn’t so limited to a
dynamic that starves
and to a tragic, but common story
I wish you saw the cuts
the millions of them that chisel away at my perception of you,
cutting down the bullshit, cutting out the delusional
cutting me in the places I need each day
when you know you made me feel bad
and I wish I didn’t know you felt that way
I wish it was before when
i thought it was in my control
to opt in for a nicer treatment of your person
I wish you wanted to get better fast
in order to better serve me
to please me
to delight me
to make me see how wrong they were about me
I wish you thought about the times
when you were this way with me
when you thought to surprise and show me the beauty of life
in the ways that you see
I wish that the words I was left with
to describe the way you make me feel
wasn’t so limited to a
dynamic that starves
and to a tragic, but common story
I wish you saw the cuts
the millions of them that chisel away at my perception of you,
cutting down the bullshit, cutting out the delusional
cutting me in the places I need each day
Where’s the application for requesting help
no I am not doing ok or alright.
but also
how do I say that I am doing better than I’ve ever done before
I’m told-by myself and you-that it’ll run out soon
the fun
I can’t expect this to last
so would it be better for me to be sad now
ahead of time
is that the normal preparation to lose everything you thought was yours?
I did give it all away, or was it up? or did I give up?
either way
it didnt fit
not into my new life
not the one where I feel those feelings inside
I chose the payment plan where I had it all delivered to me post career
the one where you don’t feel any of it while it’s happening
never felt any physical pleasure from the work i’d done
just pushing through getting to the end so I could start
and I decided that 35 might be the right beginning
a fitting me to receive all that fun and joy and happiness
and not overnight but came it did after I started
choosing a version of me that wanted to be in my body
she allowed her imagination to stain all her professional clothes- definitely ruined the reputation
but doesn't seem to be necessary anymore
the next version had to be a superhero, a super mom and fight injustice all around her
but she didn't stop there
she kept leveling up
by opening the boxes,
of which pandora has many
peering in and upon finding those shadows
running away, and then returning once the lights were on
that's what the void needs to chill out, and then it'll come out
to play
and she’s played the role
in her mind of
almost anything you could imagine-she imagined it-only worse
worse because she was training blind
no idea what was coming for her
once she started,
to return would have been worse
than the death that was already killing her
but I digress, Where’s the application for help
We need help
We need to remember what truly matters, what doesn’t waste our time like this work with no guarantee
she says shes an artist
but nothings for sale
so who knows what shes really doing
am i scaring you? should I put my mask back on?
i don’t mean to frighten.
but i’m finding that so much of what i do
is cause for
Your Concern.
i don’t want that though i mean
are those the same-
Your Concern and your help
must i take care of your concerns before i receive some help?
can you provide me with the details of the story you want to hear so i can fill those in the blanks- unless that’s the test
in which case i’ll guess my best answer, my best guesswork
and once I say that I am an addict, a mentally unstable, dangerous, delusional, irresponsible malnourished mom, does that trigger the resources that will help me to rest?
to allow me to play and explore
the supplies to treat myself with kindness
the fruit that sweetens the stigma
the salve that soothes my betrayal wounds
the stuffing to prop up my self-confidence
the faith to believe i can do it my way
the trust in who i’ve always been, the evidence of which there is plenty
the right to tell what really happened
the hug of being witnessed,
having my story heard,
my scars seen,
my fears held,
my bullies banished,
my autonomy respected
If my language was a cry for help
for something that I could not see
below the surface brewing,
how come all of you chose to act like
i could handle it with your judgment and
without your understanding?
if i was not struggling correctly, why couldn’t you tell me?
oooh that’s what that was
you did, you warned me: if i didn’t shape up you would not give me the help you promised to give me when you birthed me,
when you called me your friend
when you saw me at work meetings
when you married me.
it’s true i didn’t read the disclaimer and i guess i really should have
i didn’t know
that I signed up for
a community that would look the other way
when my problems were not as easily summarized for a gofundme.
i guess thought it would be different when I went through the hardest time of my life
my bad
no I am not doing ok or alright.
but also
how do I say that I am doing better than I’ve ever done before
I’m told-by myself and you-that it’ll run out soon
the fun
I can’t expect this to last
so would it be better for me to be sad now
ahead of time
is that the normal preparation to lose everything you thought was yours?
I did give it all away, or was it up? or did I give up?
either way
it didnt fit
not into my new life
not the one where I feel those feelings inside
I chose the payment plan where I had it all delivered to me post career
the one where you don’t feel any of it while it’s happening
never felt any physical pleasure from the work i’d done
just pushing through getting to the end so I could start
and I decided that 35 might be the right beginning
a fitting me to receive all that fun and joy and happiness
and not overnight but came it did after I started
choosing a version of me that wanted to be in my body
she allowed her imagination to stain all her professional clothes- definitely ruined the reputation
but doesn't seem to be necessary anymore
the next version had to be a superhero, a super mom and fight injustice all around her
but she didn't stop there
she kept leveling up
by opening the boxes,
of which pandora has many
peering in and upon finding those shadows
running away, and then returning once the lights were on
that's what the void needs to chill out, and then it'll come out
to play
and she’s played the role
in her mind of
almost anything you could imagine-she imagined it-only worse
worse because she was training blind
no idea what was coming for her
once she started,
to return would have been worse
than the death that was already killing her
but I digress, Where’s the application for help
We need help
We need to remember what truly matters, what doesn’t waste our time like this work with no guarantee
she says shes an artist
but nothings for sale
so who knows what shes really doing
am i scaring you? should I put my mask back on?
i don’t mean to frighten.
but i’m finding that so much of what i do
is cause for
Your Concern.
i don’t want that though i mean
are those the same-
Your Concern and your help
must i take care of your concerns before i receive some help?
can you provide me with the details of the story you want to hear so i can fill those in the blanks- unless that’s the test
in which case i’ll guess my best answer, my best guesswork
and once I say that I am an addict, a mentally unstable, dangerous, delusional, irresponsible malnourished mom, does that trigger the resources that will help me to rest?
to allow me to play and explore
the supplies to treat myself with kindness
the fruit that sweetens the stigma
the salve that soothes my betrayal wounds
the stuffing to prop up my self-confidence
the faith to believe i can do it my way
the trust in who i’ve always been, the evidence of which there is plenty
the right to tell what really happened
the hug of being witnessed,
having my story heard,
my scars seen,
my fears held,
my bullies banished,
my autonomy respected
If my language was a cry for help
for something that I could not see
below the surface brewing,
how come all of you chose to act like
i could handle it with your judgment and
without your understanding?
if i was not struggling correctly, why couldn’t you tell me?
oooh that’s what that was
you did, you warned me: if i didn’t shape up you would not give me the help you promised to give me when you birthed me,
when you called me your friend
when you saw me at work meetings
when you married me.
it’s true i didn’t read the disclaimer and i guess i really should have
i didn’t know
that I signed up for
a community that would look the other way
when my problems were not as easily summarized for a gofundme.
i guess thought it would be different when I went through the hardest time of my life
my bad
my messiness the past few years since almost dying and losing the entirety of the life i worked nonstop to build
then I stopped
I took a breath and one led to another
and soon I was breathing and seeing and wondering how my life did this to me.
why would it show me over and over that I don’t belong here
and
i don’t make sense at all
making sense or cents it all amounts to the same
Fact of the matter is I changed and did it willingly, not knowingly
of who i’d become
would you do that for me? Would you let me tell the world how cruel you were to me when you didn’t know any better and would you let me throw my tantrum in front of all of them to “heal” my addiction to whatever substance you’re against that I’m not.
If I promised to do what you want, would you let me keep my newest blog up, “the girl who’ll never do what they want?”
could I quote you and analyze you and point out your traumas
that are so easy to see once you’ve been oppressed by them
then set free by their discovery and then driven to madness just trying to prove them to you
you the one who acted in ways that should have alarmed all those around you.
why didn’t it warn the ones all around you
the ones that should care that you’re acting insane.
maybe they were too flustered by the events of your version of me
to which you only confirmed they were happening
that you were concerned that
you had so much to fight for
this way no one would question your behavior
when you acted foolishly but nothing that wouldn’t be forgiven
had you sincerely
and genuinely realized your error
and realizing your error is not a small task, no mam
it’s the work I wake up and do each day
it’s the sorting and hurting and wishing it weren’t so
but it’s what you dead ones call dwelling
dwelling on it, like it’s something one wants
I’m grieving my whole fucking life
I am grieving my classroom that never ever got clean
but the size allowed it to feel open
I’m grieving the students who decided to eat lunch in my room
after their careful cool teacher selection process
where I’d try out as an influencer during our regular class schedule
and if they bought it - I was in and they broke bread and left the wrappers on the floor
I’m grieving the rap battles that organically showed up
and witnessing the audacity of a few
I’m missing those letters at the end of each year, that reinforced my entire existence
where I learned that they felt seen by me and I felt alive
like I mattered because I did my job of making sure they knew
they mattered
then I stopped
I took a breath and one led to another
and soon I was breathing and seeing and wondering how my life did this to me.
why would it show me over and over that I don’t belong here
and
i don’t make sense at all
making sense or cents it all amounts to the same
Fact of the matter is I changed and did it willingly, not knowingly
of who i’d become
would you do that for me? Would you let me tell the world how cruel you were to me when you didn’t know any better and would you let me throw my tantrum in front of all of them to “heal” my addiction to whatever substance you’re against that I’m not.
If I promised to do what you want, would you let me keep my newest blog up, “the girl who’ll never do what they want?”
could I quote you and analyze you and point out your traumas
that are so easy to see once you’ve been oppressed by them
then set free by their discovery and then driven to madness just trying to prove them to you
you the one who acted in ways that should have alarmed all those around you.
why didn’t it warn the ones all around you
the ones that should care that you’re acting insane.
maybe they were too flustered by the events of your version of me
to which you only confirmed they were happening
that you were concerned that
you had so much to fight for
this way no one would question your behavior
when you acted foolishly but nothing that wouldn’t be forgiven
had you sincerely
and genuinely realized your error
and realizing your error is not a small task, no mam
it’s the work I wake up and do each day
it’s the sorting and hurting and wishing it weren’t so
but it’s what you dead ones call dwelling
dwelling on it, like it’s something one wants
I’m grieving my whole fucking life
I am grieving my classroom that never ever got clean
but the size allowed it to feel open
I’m grieving the students who decided to eat lunch in my room
after their careful cool teacher selection process
where I’d try out as an influencer during our regular class schedule
and if they bought it - I was in and they broke bread and left the wrappers on the floor
I’m grieving the rap battles that organically showed up
and witnessing the audacity of a few
I’m missing those letters at the end of each year, that reinforced my entire existence
where I learned that they felt seen by me and I felt alive
like I mattered because I did my job of making sure they knew
they mattered
thanks but no thanks, I’m not looking for that type of love
it’s not what I was taught i deserve
unconscious love is what I was given
but it was labeled as unconditional.
growing up thinking everything was opposite
nothing is what it said it was
what it thought it was
so much confusion over where to put my efforts
and now-
where do I apply my coping mechanism of blame
Is it my job to place it or is it like all the other times where I take it all myself?
who is doing this wrong- is it you guys or me?
why wont it work
how come all these conditions render your love ineffective is that the catch?
love will be there but it just
wont work
like me
I am here but I just dont work
I dont do it anymore
i was always broken but I hid that from all of you
i had to so you would let me work
so you would let me pretend I made sense, that I was good
even though i messed up, I made sure you never had to see it
I kept my mess off of your clean slate, your pristine state
and I loved you
I let you hurt me and gave you the excuses that I worked hard to create
almost as hard as I worked to get your love
you didn’t tell me that this wasn’t real for you though
that this was just practice for the version of me who would deserve your love
I thought that’s what I was proving to you
all this time
that I was worthy of your understanding, of your gift of the benefit of whatever doubt there could be that I could really use your love
and I can still
I can still use your love
i would have to learn how to because it doesn’t look like the love I’ve been denied in the past
you see all my experiences with it have been through a wall
it’s been held from me
only given in doses
when I was good
and I wasn’t always good, I was bad a lot
I was bad when I found porn online, smoked weed, spent the night at his house
I was bad when i told my friends how it really felt at home with my family
and i could never keep my room clean
i was taught that my needing love was desperate
it wasn’t a good look
i didn’t know that you werent supposed to need it
so I tried to not need it
and i was terrified to find that I was in fact addicted to it
not to love, I never had that
I was addicted to trying to get you to give me yours
and when I tried to quit cold turkey, all of my loved ones, the ones I had already given all my love to- all that I had,
they abandoned me
and I didn’t know where to go to not be loved
I just knew that I didn’t want judgment
i know i’m bad and the thought of you knowing that too is too painful
I’ve tried my whole life to not be bad
nice
pretty
kind
understanding
forgiving
smart but only for the things I’m allowed to be
flirty but only if I’m going to put out
because why would I do that to you,
let you think that my celebration of your beautiful qualities is all that i’m giving you
i used all my resources to change
from bad to good
I was a daughter, a sister, a friend, a girlfriend, a classmate, a teammate, an enemy, a loser, a winner, an artist, a teacher, a girl, a woman, a tomboy, an athlete, a malnourished body
I tried on strong, quiet, loud, aggressive, silly, sad, mean, soft
i’m out of options I don’t know how to do it anymore
how do i be what I need to be to access your love
who do i need to be for you to love me
for you to say it’s ok that you can’t
I will take care of you.
all this time, i haven’t been alone
with my dog and my son
i have the music.
it took losing everyone for me to see that all the background tracks to my life were made with me in mind.
but somehow it made everything worse because now I see a whole world of love
dedicated to me, for me
written about me and
I can’t use it.
It’s not how I was taught,
I was raised better than that
i know better than to accept love that is freely given
it’s not what love is.
But when i finally make you proud enough to give me the love
i know is waiting for me
when I know i’m good enough
that’s when I’ll start using your type of love.
it’s not what I was taught i deserve
unconscious love is what I was given
but it was labeled as unconditional.
growing up thinking everything was opposite
nothing is what it said it was
what it thought it was
so much confusion over where to put my efforts
and now-
where do I apply my coping mechanism of blame
Is it my job to place it or is it like all the other times where I take it all myself?
who is doing this wrong- is it you guys or me?
why wont it work
how come all these conditions render your love ineffective is that the catch?
love will be there but it just
wont work
like me
I am here but I just dont work
I dont do it anymore
i was always broken but I hid that from all of you
i had to so you would let me work
so you would let me pretend I made sense, that I was good
even though i messed up, I made sure you never had to see it
I kept my mess off of your clean slate, your pristine state
and I loved you
I let you hurt me and gave you the excuses that I worked hard to create
almost as hard as I worked to get your love
you didn’t tell me that this wasn’t real for you though
that this was just practice for the version of me who would deserve your love
I thought that’s what I was proving to you
all this time
that I was worthy of your understanding, of your gift of the benefit of whatever doubt there could be that I could really use your love
and I can still
I can still use your love
i would have to learn how to because it doesn’t look like the love I’ve been denied in the past
you see all my experiences with it have been through a wall
it’s been held from me
only given in doses
when I was good
and I wasn’t always good, I was bad a lot
I was bad when I found porn online, smoked weed, spent the night at his house
I was bad when i told my friends how it really felt at home with my family
and i could never keep my room clean
i was taught that my needing love was desperate
it wasn’t a good look
i didn’t know that you werent supposed to need it
so I tried to not need it
and i was terrified to find that I was in fact addicted to it
not to love, I never had that
I was addicted to trying to get you to give me yours
and when I tried to quit cold turkey, all of my loved ones, the ones I had already given all my love to- all that I had,
they abandoned me
and I didn’t know where to go to not be loved
I just knew that I didn’t want judgment
i know i’m bad and the thought of you knowing that too is too painful
I’ve tried my whole life to not be bad
nice
pretty
kind
understanding
forgiving
smart but only for the things I’m allowed to be
flirty but only if I’m going to put out
because why would I do that to you,
let you think that my celebration of your beautiful qualities is all that i’m giving you
i used all my resources to change
from bad to good
I was a daughter, a sister, a friend, a girlfriend, a classmate, a teammate, an enemy, a loser, a winner, an artist, a teacher, a girl, a woman, a tomboy, an athlete, a malnourished body
I tried on strong, quiet, loud, aggressive, silly, sad, mean, soft
i’m out of options I don’t know how to do it anymore
how do i be what I need to be to access your love
who do i need to be for you to love me
for you to say it’s ok that you can’t
I will take care of you.
all this time, i haven’t been alone
with my dog and my son
i have the music.
it took losing everyone for me to see that all the background tracks to my life were made with me in mind.
but somehow it made everything worse because now I see a whole world of love
dedicated to me, for me
written about me and
I can’t use it.
It’s not how I was taught,
I was raised better than that
i know better than to accept love that is freely given
it’s not what love is.
But when i finally make you proud enough to give me the love
i know is waiting for me
when I know i’m good enough
that’s when I’ll start using your type of love.
A word needs to exist to express the concept of thanking oneself
Communicating exactly what I mean has always felt like it required more effort than I expected, but I thought it was because each word I chose had to encapsulate so many other ideas while still remaining simple and direct. The amount of thoughts that go through my mind at any given second is such a high volume that the sentence I am speaking in the moment, writing as fast as my hand will write it, is already outdated according to my mind. I can’t keep up…That's why I never do it unless I have to.
But now, I have to.
I need to believe in my own thoughts enough to painstakingly birth them into existence in the world outside of my inner one. So much is in my way and it's such a classic tale of self-sabotage that it makes me bored just thinking about it.
Therefore, I won't think about it. I won't outline it, giving myself the satisfaction that comes with planning. I won't bullet point my ideas, using a dull, butter knife to sloppily chop them off from the many tangents they need to be relevant. I won't edit more than the current pause I take to choose my words. Those things are for communicating with others.
I am now communicating with
you.
I'm communicating with me. I'm communicating with Michelle. And except for our lack of memory, our communication style of telepathy could have cut it for the rest of life- but a major event has happened which changes everything as is known.
I learned that she has been kept in isolation. I thought I was doing right by me this entire time. I believed that there was more to her than me but we were under the assumption that this was not unique. That the rest of the world knew about this special feeling inside and that they were also either working on discovering what that meant, or had figured it out.
But that's not it.
Ever since she could, she felt that she had a purpose, that she would gift the world something profoundly beautiful one day. In preparation, she frantically and excitedly tried on every possible gift wrap to make sure that the world would recognize it as a gift. She ended up choosing a box thinking of its solidity, its strength, its ability to exist as both a protector and a space for open exploration. But, the world showed her that boxes aren't always sturdy, and to attain that, the box would need to be made of something like cement and that is way too heavy.
This whole time she was storing the gift in a separate location, a place where it was supposedly growing, getting plenty of sun and moonshine, maturing into a ripe, satisfying fruit that would nourish, build up and enrich the society that ate it. Weren't all the presents?
Surely, someone would help her figure out the perfect presentation? How had they bestowed their own? If everyone put as much thought, passion, excitement and hard work into theirs as she was investing in hers, how marvelous they all must be. But where are they? Or when do we get to share? Why have I not been notified of any of these crucial details?
As time passed, the world around me started to slow down on the encouragement. Acknowledgement of how well we did what we were supposed to do came less frequently and with less of the knowledge part. Instead, feedback about the ribbon became the primary concern, was it too thin? Why is it crumpled in that spot? Is it supposed to look like that?
The teen years brought an awareness that felt profound at the time, but because the awareness had surpassed even the most profound in the vicinity, it was misunderstood and mislabeled. I wanted to be a journalist because the truth was at the core of my search in every way and I thought that words were the tools with which I would discover and refine it. But then my survival became dependent on my ability to hide her from my parents and hiding is the opposite of truthing. I tried to understand why the way I was couldn't be allowed, but when I used facts and evidence as a truth-seeking journalist would, they were rejected and confiscated. In their place I was hurled emotions, and seeds of shame and doubt started to crystalize, forming a glass house of sorts around her. A new method of seeking purpose became necessary, and almost immediately after learning that words would not save her, she pivoted to her eyes and hands to make sure the truth could not be twisted or it's existence denied. She picked the giftwrap and committed to a life of creation.
From then on I was just barely surviving. Truly, from my first major mistake in elementary school until now, we were dormant inside.
Survival is the antithesis of self-reflection.
There is no self to reflect on when the self does nothing but scramble to make it to tomorrow, never knowing if there will be a day to exist beyond that. Little Michelle who wants to talk to everyone she meets about only the most important things, lives inside the glass house that formed with my own subconscious help. She never changed, grew up, or transformed into Me Michelle the way I assumed she had. She was frozen alive and now,
Now I am thawing and using pickaxes to reach her. Parts of her melted over time, escaping out of me into physical creations, artwork. In this way, she managed to finally get enough of herself, perhaps the only drops left, into a creation that was warm and alive and growing. Milo, my little one, connected, delivered, expressed, revealed my inner child. The most beautiful parts of her combined with the most beautiful parts of him to compose this unbelievable force housed in a vulnerable, soft, clumsy and present little baby.
On the birthdate of my closest physical connection to the long line of my mothers who were separated from their inner child, my son came to be. And because she was no longer physically a part of our world when he was beginning to multiply, she bestowed her gift to the world
through him
and he brought an end to an eternity of my ancestor's rejection and denial of their inner child, their spirit.
Now, after more chaos than our inner world has ever experienced, we are getting to meet each other for the very first time. We both have imagined so much about the other. I wondered whether she was as insightful as she felt. She wondered how I ever decided on how to wrap the gift. Neither of us can believe how much we endured. Finally, I am integrating as much of the me that had to get me here into the me that is still moving to become as much of myself as I possibly can. We are not becoming one, we are becoming
all
the
versions
of us that were never seen because we were just too
unbelievable
Communicating exactly what I mean has always felt like it required more effort than I expected, but I thought it was because each word I chose had to encapsulate so many other ideas while still remaining simple and direct. The amount of thoughts that go through my mind at any given second is such a high volume that the sentence I am speaking in the moment, writing as fast as my hand will write it, is already outdated according to my mind. I can’t keep up…That's why I never do it unless I have to.
But now, I have to.
I need to believe in my own thoughts enough to painstakingly birth them into existence in the world outside of my inner one. So much is in my way and it's such a classic tale of self-sabotage that it makes me bored just thinking about it.
Therefore, I won't think about it. I won't outline it, giving myself the satisfaction that comes with planning. I won't bullet point my ideas, using a dull, butter knife to sloppily chop them off from the many tangents they need to be relevant. I won't edit more than the current pause I take to choose my words. Those things are for communicating with others.
I am now communicating with
you.
I'm communicating with me. I'm communicating with Michelle. And except for our lack of memory, our communication style of telepathy could have cut it for the rest of life- but a major event has happened which changes everything as is known.
I learned that she has been kept in isolation. I thought I was doing right by me this entire time. I believed that there was more to her than me but we were under the assumption that this was not unique. That the rest of the world knew about this special feeling inside and that they were also either working on discovering what that meant, or had figured it out.
But that's not it.
Ever since she could, she felt that she had a purpose, that she would gift the world something profoundly beautiful one day. In preparation, she frantically and excitedly tried on every possible gift wrap to make sure that the world would recognize it as a gift. She ended up choosing a box thinking of its solidity, its strength, its ability to exist as both a protector and a space for open exploration. But, the world showed her that boxes aren't always sturdy, and to attain that, the box would need to be made of something like cement and that is way too heavy.
This whole time she was storing the gift in a separate location, a place where it was supposedly growing, getting plenty of sun and moonshine, maturing into a ripe, satisfying fruit that would nourish, build up and enrich the society that ate it. Weren't all the presents?
Surely, someone would help her figure out the perfect presentation? How had they bestowed their own? If everyone put as much thought, passion, excitement and hard work into theirs as she was investing in hers, how marvelous they all must be. But where are they? Or when do we get to share? Why have I not been notified of any of these crucial details?
As time passed, the world around me started to slow down on the encouragement. Acknowledgement of how well we did what we were supposed to do came less frequently and with less of the knowledge part. Instead, feedback about the ribbon became the primary concern, was it too thin? Why is it crumpled in that spot? Is it supposed to look like that?
The teen years brought an awareness that felt profound at the time, but because the awareness had surpassed even the most profound in the vicinity, it was misunderstood and mislabeled. I wanted to be a journalist because the truth was at the core of my search in every way and I thought that words were the tools with which I would discover and refine it. But then my survival became dependent on my ability to hide her from my parents and hiding is the opposite of truthing. I tried to understand why the way I was couldn't be allowed, but when I used facts and evidence as a truth-seeking journalist would, they were rejected and confiscated. In their place I was hurled emotions, and seeds of shame and doubt started to crystalize, forming a glass house of sorts around her. A new method of seeking purpose became necessary, and almost immediately after learning that words would not save her, she pivoted to her eyes and hands to make sure the truth could not be twisted or it's existence denied. She picked the giftwrap and committed to a life of creation.
From then on I was just barely surviving. Truly, from my first major mistake in elementary school until now, we were dormant inside.
Survival is the antithesis of self-reflection.
There is no self to reflect on when the self does nothing but scramble to make it to tomorrow, never knowing if there will be a day to exist beyond that. Little Michelle who wants to talk to everyone she meets about only the most important things, lives inside the glass house that formed with my own subconscious help. She never changed, grew up, or transformed into Me Michelle the way I assumed she had. She was frozen alive and now,
Now I am thawing and using pickaxes to reach her. Parts of her melted over time, escaping out of me into physical creations, artwork. In this way, she managed to finally get enough of herself, perhaps the only drops left, into a creation that was warm and alive and growing. Milo, my little one, connected, delivered, expressed, revealed my inner child. The most beautiful parts of her combined with the most beautiful parts of him to compose this unbelievable force housed in a vulnerable, soft, clumsy and present little baby.
On the birthdate of my closest physical connection to the long line of my mothers who were separated from their inner child, my son came to be. And because she was no longer physically a part of our world when he was beginning to multiply, she bestowed her gift to the world
through him
and he brought an end to an eternity of my ancestor's rejection and denial of their inner child, their spirit.
Now, after more chaos than our inner world has ever experienced, we are getting to meet each other for the very first time. We both have imagined so much about the other. I wondered whether she was as insightful as she felt. She wondered how I ever decided on how to wrap the gift. Neither of us can believe how much we endured. Finally, I am integrating as much of the me that had to get me here into the me that is still moving to become as much of myself as I possibly can. We are not becoming one, we are becoming
all
the
versions
of us that were never seen because we were just too
unbelievable