Tag: truth

Misscommunication

Maybe it’s because of the thoughts I have

That drown out what is real,

And what is not–

Maybe it’s my mouth replacing the air with water,

Heavy in my lungs,

Afraid of what will come up

Once I try to connect the words in my mind

To the sounds in my throat–closed.

I want to protect my heart from the heavy weight I hold

When I see you,

But I’ve realized I can’t see you.

How can I see you when I can’t see myself,

Or when I look around and find no familiarity in my surroundings?

Grey is now permeating everything I see—

So first, it starts with me.

I choose to remove the weight

And look forward to my day.

I focus on being present

When the past is pressing in on all sides,

Forcing me to hide.

I focus on having patience

When I feel wasted by

The people surrounding me on a daily basis.

I focus on communication,

And protecting my mind and my heart

from the forces around me asking me to change who I am

For them,

Because I am worth it.

I will say it over and over again,

That I am who I am,

Fallen and imperfect.

I love the cracks in my hands and freckles on my skin,

And the excitement I get from a small moment.

I ask nothing to forgive,

I only ask for a conversation,

Not a misinterpretation.

I ask for someone to see me past expectation.

See me as a living and breathing human who is prone to making mistakes.

See me as you would see yourself at the end of the day—

As a person.

Don’t Leave Me in the Dark

Sometimes I smile out of habit.

 

I don’t notice when it’s dishonest,

Because I’m so used to convincing myself it’s true.

You can fake it so much that it turns into your reality,

Even when you are pretending.

 

But sometimes pretending seems more familiar to me than reality.

I continue repeating and hearing the sound over and over again—

Feeling the stretch across my skin—

Feeling the void of emotion—

“Please forgive me.”

 

My thoughts cry for forgiveness from this notion

That I will never be good enough to

Measure up and be the version of perfect

I want to see—

Or feel in my body.

 

Maybe perfection would give me peace,

Or maybe it would destroy me completely.

 

1 2 3

I need time to breathe

Or to time my breaths

By 1…2…3

 

But the counting creates a mood of apathy

and emptiness

Like I can’t stay awake like this—

And I’ve missed the reason

For methodically breathing

In and out.

 

It’s broken down for peace,

Not destructive thoughts

That beat up my heart,

But slow beats so I can stop and think,

And count to slow down every word racing

In my mind.

 

I want to stop hiding behind a glass wall.

I don’t want to wait for it to fall

Just so I can tip toe around the glass pieces

Holding distorted reflections of what I used to be.

Or how people see me.

 

1…2…3…

I don’t care what they think.

I care about finding the light behind the door I closed 4 years ago.

I care about holding time close as I think about the future I don’t know.

 

1…2…3…

I know what I need.

I need to stop thinking, keep counting, and move into the place that is meant for me.

 

I want to be free.

People Need a Melody

I feel weight on my body,

But my mind is awake and waiting.

 

I feel hope.

Small, but it grows and makes each step lighter—

Like I’m lighting a fire

And searching for the spark that’s starts a flame—

 

I will wait.

 

I don’t want to sink into this feeling I have —

I want to bring the present to my past.

 

I’ve lived in the past long enough that it’s touched

The parts of me living in the now—

Not then, not at the end, but give me a beginning I can touch.

 

I want to feel loved.

I’m Back

What happened to me?

 

When did I decide to give up my soul for a copy?

Copying words and phrases that match the people standing next to me—

And when did I stop myself from being?

 

I can’t think of a moment when I put my wants above someone else—

So I’m reminded that I’ve forgotten how to see myself.

And everything around me seems so grey

That I don’t even know if my likes are mine,

Or just another way

I’ve conformed to find commonality with others.

 

Now I’ve become the stranger. 

 

I look at my image and see pieces thrown together from

other places, other faces,

almost looking natural, 

But something doesn’t add up.

I don’t add up. Not in this way.

 

Because I’m constantly giving and taking away from who I am—

Giving into demands,

Giving up on my plans,

Taking on image after image hoping that they will fit me,

But this is not living.

 

I need to be comfortable in my own skin, so I am choosing myself this time.

I choose to listen to folky tunes blaring from my stereos, no headphones 

 

I choose the place with country food, like cornbread and tomatoes from home.

 

I choose to continue to write down my experiences and speak with honesty,

Connecting my wants and dreams with no apologies.

 

I choose to love the person I can be when no one else  is watching,

 

And I choose to break down each piece I took on in hopes that someone would accept me.

 

I choose to be.

 

I’m scared of the thought of someone seeing me, but it scares me more to lose myself completely, 

So I will stop and listen to the voice inside of me—

 

I choose me.