Writing

collection of my poetry and short stories

Posts in Ponder
Mother Of Mine

I'm afraid for her as much as I fear for myself. I fear that I will be plagued with these same battles my mom stubbornly refuses to let up. I fear that she would make me her commander in these long drawn fist fights that I refuse to fight. Cause I'm tired and worn out too. I'm tired of fighting the battles my mom has created for me at a young age. Battles that have left me so mentally fucked that sometimes I wonder how I'm still functioning. 

But that is what happens when your mother looks at you with disappointment and hope. The odd combination of "What did I do to make you turn out this way" and "You have the highest potential to be better than yourself". Those are the two parallels I've always fallen into and to be honest, shit is never going to be different. As the days go by and her face is worn from years of wisdom, I'm scared my mom will leave this physical world without confronting herself. Confronting the notion that she may be mentally ill and that her mind doesn't collapse once in a while when she thinks about what her life use to be. That is what I fear that my mom will one day, sooner rather than later won't be able to recognize herself and have closure. 

Thinking out loud

So your girl sucks at posting and I'm sorry. But your girl is also turning 24 years old in less than a week *squats down and throws obscene hand gestures* So please forgive ya girl as she slowly starts to piece her life together. I don't know why I keep referring to myself as "ya girl" but whatever, I'm here now and it all that matters.

With just a few days left of being 23, I want to make an attempt to break down some of the walls built by my old self. Starting with me addressing the person or inspiration behind the "Cubicle Curse" series. Why? What's the point? Cause well, why the fuck not? Life is too short not to be vulnerable right? So I guess here it goes. 

You were the main inspiration for all my writings this year. From all the good and bad, you've re-carved this door back into my life. I'm sure you're sitting there thinking, "This bitch is doing the most" and cringing while reading this but whatever, fuck you (not really lol). Yes, this post is about YOU and I'm sure you know it by now. And yes, it seems odd that anyone or even I, would dedicate a whole post to you but how else can I express myself? So to the best of my abilities let me show you all the words I've been trying to string together.

You may not think your existence in my life is significant but to me you shook my world and took away all the debris. Never have I met someone like you and I'm thankful that I'll never meet another person like you. You've said it yourself, "when you know you just know" and I knew for a very long time that for whatever reason, you were going to shift something in my life. So I thank the universe for that and how throughout all the most difficult circumstances I was able to meet you. And I want these words to echo in your head whenever you think about yourself. There will never be another you and even if you don't see how important of a human being you are, let me be the first to let you know. You my dear, are an extremely special and a magnificent human being. Your heart is big, your generosity boundless, and your love a spectacular reflection of everything you do, try to hide, and trying to be. I appreciate you. I adore you. But most of all, I see you for everything that you are. Good or bad, light or dark, unmotivated or passionate, just thank you for being you. 

I wish I was better with words but I feel like if I don't do this now I'll never do it. And trust me, I've probably rewritten 6 different versions of this post trying to make it sound as poetic as it could be but atlas this all that I got. 

Waves

All my fucks are exhausted today.

Ever sit at the office, bedroom, or park and just stare off into space and think to yourself about all the people you've outgrown? I recently came upon this thought when I started pondering (what I've been doing a fucking lot) on all the people that use to be in my life. Granted a lot of these people I still love and adore from afar but I think I've hit this ceiling of fucks where I can no longer well, give a fuck about their feelings.

And I mean this in the best of ways, really...I do. It's not my lack of love for them that keeps me from caring but my own movement in the world that is keeping me from staying in the same place. I think we've all hit this point in our lives where we are just tired of dealing with the same bullshit and staring at the same shit all the fucking time. I can only look at the Chicago skyline for so long before I get in my feelings about all the places I want to visit, all I people I want to meet, people I could be fucking, and delicious food I could be trying. Home is great, people at home are great, everything is so fucking comfortable and great. But this doesn't make me feel great. And the people who use to make me feel great? Make me feel paralyzed.

But in all reality, it isn't their fault. It's no one fault that life moves in that motion. Life is nothing more than a series of waves. Crashing and cleansing, taking things away and clearing out the clutter to give you another reflection. All in all it sounds beautiful, scary, devastating, and liberating all at once but I'm just kinda drifting on the current. Aware of my new reflection but sad to see the fog of my old self slowly drift back into the open skies. I guess this is what the new life crisis looks like. Like a bunch of hopeful individuals just floating on bodies of water, staring face first into their new reflection.

 

 

Goals Not Plans

I apologize for the lack of posts but as of late I've been super busy readjusting my life to a 9-5 job and trying hard not to die from monotony. So far I've survived with the wonderful help of alcohol and various other methods. But as of late, my good friend Jim Beam is not doing his job. Like dude is fucking up and leading me to horrible fits of feels that ends with me weeping into my Sailor Moon pillow.

Although my girl Sailor Moon has been a great companion, I've come to the conclusion that my emotions and lack of creativity is being drained by my overly planned life. Which is strange cause I hate planning and hate routine. I guess this is what happens when you get a 9-5 job and start to feel the silent but overbearing pressure to be "someone" in the world. So where do people like me go from here? Do I continue on and become this grown up with grown up shit? Or do I try and venture out in the world seeking some truth that is beyond the capabilities of my human body?

Or I could say fuck it cause in reality, there is nothing I could do to make the world feel less heavy. The world by default is heavy from the loads of fucks we give and maybe instead of trying to plan my life around this heavy load, I can choose to well...to not plan at all. Cause in reality, what the fuck is the point of planning? Planning keeps you bounded in a small square of expectations and keeps you from being you in a world of possibility. I would much gather have goals. Goals are fluid, goals are realistic, and goals have no time line. Goals make sense. Plans don't. So in conclusion since I feel like I'm being all preachy, just fuck it.

Cubicle Curse Series: Bonding

I thought about you a lot when I was in the high peaks of the mountain. I left my safe job and home to be here in the blistering cold. It's cold up here and all I see are dead fields and patches of snow. But I danced in the empty field anyways. I could tell my friend was worried by the way she ran towards me. "Careful! You'll shatter!" she screamed. 

She knew I loved you before I even realized it.

But you aren't here. And I can't seem to cry at the idea that you aren't here. All I see are the once lush trails and the jagged stones peaking from the sides of the mountain. I could smell the last of the fall leaves and the hint of burnt wood near the exit. My heart was still. 

Suddenly we are back in the cozy loft and my friend is asleep in our little twin mattress. I could tell she was dreaming of you for me. The way she tossed her body and how her hand suddenly held mine. Sweat beaded from our palms as she gripped my fingers. "Loosen up" I whispered. But she held on even more. 

She knew I loved you before I even realized it.

But you still aren't here. And I can't seem to stay awake to have you linger in my thoughts. All I see are the dirty pots and pans stacked in the kitchen sink and the little old lady walking alone on the sidewalk. I could smell this morning's breakfast of scrambled eggs and Canadian bacon, faintly but still lingering on the curtains of our window.

I thought about you a lot as I sat on the patio smoking my cigarette. I remembered how you use to toss the hair away from my face and how you took long drags from my cigarettes. "I'm saving you from cancer" you would say jokingly. My friend opened the patio door and kissed me. I could tell she wanted me to feel secure by the way her kiss lingered on my forehead. She traced my lips with her fingers and held me close to her chest, "Your heart is beautiful, why isn't he here?" she asked sobbing into my hair.

I picked myself off her chest and returned her kiss. I held her face in front of mine and screamed...

 

 

to be continued