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Adjusting

16 Sep

I am floating on a cloud.

I can soar.

I can fly.

I am unstoppable.

 

They reach out.

I take their hand.

I want to pull them up too.

They trick me.

I am falling down.

I crash head-first into the ground.

 

This is reality, they say.

It hurts, I reply.

That’s life, they laugh.

 

They cuff my ankles.

Round the left is a chain with a metal ball marked RESPONSIBILITIES.

Round the right is a chain with a metal ball marked EXPECTATIONS.

 

Whenever I try jumping the weight pulls me down.

They tell me I am all alone.

 

That is a lie.

 

Everyone around me is cuffed, just like me.

I lift up your chains.

You lift up mine.

 

We cannot fly

but

together we can run.

The Things No One Told Me

19 May

I came out into the world completely unprepared and entirely caught off guard.
No one told me I’d need thicker skin, to fight off the weather and the people.
No one told me I’d need to figure things out myself, and that no guidebook could solve my problems.
No one told me that no matter how many years I spent studying, I’d always somehow, in some sort of situation, end up saying “I don’t know.”
No one told me where dead people go.
No one told me every solution would give birth to a problem.
No one told me I’d sometimes feel all alone.
No one even asked me if I WANTED to be here.
No one told me how to handle my fear.
No one told me how to succeed in life.
No one told me the point of it all.
But most importantly, no one told me that after years of living and learning and working so hard, I’d still somehow feel completely unprepared and entirely caught off guard.

Untitled / Hadas

6 May

When I was younger I was told we always got a second chance. I was told that mistakes can be corrected and that I can always change my mind.

That flower I tore from the ground and took home, the one I later found out was nearly extinct? I ran all the way back to the garden and tried planting it back. It didn’t work.

Roots (3/5/2013)

3 May

The roots wouldn’t fit on the plane so I had to chop them off. I tried my best to not cut off too much. When I looked down from the plane I saw my stump, a small clearing in the center of my forest. I was afraid the others will grow thicker branches and bigger leaves and cover up my spot.

In my new home I am rootless. I dug up a pit and stuck my trunk inside but it simply cannot go deep enough. Here I have no private spot. I didn’t even have time to get planted. They just dropped me in here. The other trees, they tell stories and jokes and they don’t understand why I seem out of place. They cannot tell I have no roots below.

My present is here.

My past is there.

I am a topless stump.

I am a rootless tree.

Fuck Ups

2 Apr

Sometimes I think the only thing keeping us together is that unwritten list titled “Shared Mental Illnesses.” In other words, Our Fuck Ups. Sometimes we’re so crazy that the only thing keeping us sane is the idea that the other might just be crazier than ourselves. Sometimes we’re so sad the only thing that can cheer us up is the arms of the other wrapped around us as we lay in bed crying and wishing we were dead.

Because other times, when we’re sane, it feels like if we don’t get away from each other we just may go crazy. When we’re together we suddenly don’t know how to act. Other times, when the thick  cloud vapors out of our mind through our ears and light fills it up from our eyes, it feels like we don’t know what to do with all of this happiness… together. And when our hands touch the light slithers out through our fingers, making way for the blinding darkness.

The only thing keeping us close is our Fuck Ups so maybe the real Fuck Up is being together at all.

Sleep

2 Apr

It’s 2:09 am and I honestly have no clue how I’ve lasted this long.

I should be going to sleep.

It’s so dark outside, yet my soul is on fire – blazing with light.

And my eyelids – they droop, fighting my mind to let them shut, but my fingers are flying. Flying across the letters on the keyboard, racing to keep up with the letters pouring from my mind.

I’m sleep deprived since the day I was born but not ever was I deprived of words. Or ideas. Because my soul lit up my way, making sure I never stumbled, and my eyes struggled to stay open so that I could see the world.

Hanging

24 Nov

I am swinging.

Up and down, up and down.

I push with my legs the way daddy taught me way back when I could barely get onto the swing by myself, when my legs looked so small stretched out in front of me that I thought I’d never get to the sky.

And I sure do want to. I want to touch the clouds.

I want to jump off the swing and land on top of one, just like the kids in the books on my shelf always did.

I’m a pretty good traveler so naturally I’ll find myself a rainbow to slide down when I’m done. There won’t be a pot of gold at the end though – that’s just a silly fairytale. However, I do hope there’s a bus stop because my parents won’t be back from work until dark and I always eat dinner at six.

I open my eyes. I’m nearly there. It’s right in front of me. The perfect one. I’m ready. I’ve waited for so long. It’s time.

I take a deep breath and shift to the edge of the black plastic strip holding me up so high in the air. I loosen my grip on the rusty old chains at my sides.

And

I jump. I reach out.

My hands catch nothing. Nothing at all.

There’s nothing there.

The cloud doesn’t catch me.

The illusion is shattered.

I feel myself falling.

And suddenly I stop.

I’m left hanging in the air.

Thank God I wore that old sweater with the frayed ends and loose strings.

Because I’m being held up by a thread.

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