Forgotten daydreams.

A shallow love

I am really done with not reacting. With the fear that any reaction is an exaggerated one. I am tired of being told that it could have been worse or that the pain that sits in my chest will fade with time. Because yes life goes on and so will I but that pain that sits in my lungs has turned into a cancer that circulates, and is spreading.

So I think I am going to start yelling or at least start telling the truth so here it is. I love you and sometimes I wish I didn’t. Because you left without saying goodbye. And you left twice before it stuck and it still feels like even though you’re back the other shoe will drop. And I love you even though we haven’t talked in years and I never really liked you but hey I loved you all the same. But I love you too and it hurts to see you in the hall where we pretend like the other doesn’t exist even though we know each others deepest darkest secrets. And I will be honest I tell you I love you but I am not entirely sure because I think I love you until you’re gone and then I talk myself out of it because you might leave permanently.

But all this pain and yelling never really cuts it. Because here it is, all the love I try to give and the pain still sits between my ribs. Resting there until I try to take a deep breathe, so I stick with shallow breaths. And maybe I should stick with shallow loves as well because a shallow love can’t cut as deep.

Miracle girl.

I am a miracle girl. Because my parents got that second ultrasound that day and they DID find my heart beating and it continues to beat even when I feel it breaking. I am a miracle because of the art I have been able to make and the words I shape into iconographic hope. I am a miracle because I love who I love and for being loved by who loves me. And most importantly I am a miracle because everyday that I feel like I am not I continue to push back against that angry cosmos that can feel like a void. I push past the heartbreak caused by others and by my own hands. I am a motherfucking miracle, because I survive. Because each and every day that I get out of bed or don’t, I continue to choose to exist. So I will stubbornly remain a miracle even if others say none of us are and to them I am sorry because miracles don’t lose their power just because they are everywhere, and maybe if they felt a little more magic in their hearts they would smile more. So here I am standing before every miracle I can think of to say that in my miraculous existence I will remain.

Being human

Learning to love yourself is learning how to embrace being human and all the beauty and mistakes that comes with it.

The “female version”.

My therapist realized that I am named after you. And for the first time in my life I felt all that that meant. I am named after the only person who I am scared to love and petrified to hold. It was never your heart that hurt me but the words tethered to it. It was never your hands that suffocated me but it was your embrace that I drowned in.

My name is “the female version of yours”. The phrase that I grew up hearing and repeating. And it is in my adulthood that I fear being the female version of you and living up to my name. Because I said that I am the worst of you. I am the artist who is obsessive. The child who is scared of growing up. The loved afraid of loving.

It wasn’t an eclipse–the world ended.

You broke me and said the sun will rise again as if my world hadn’t already ended. The sun may have risen again but my world had collapsed before I had a chance to see it.

Dear Normal

Dear normal,

You never seemed to reach out but maybe you lost my information. I would love to meet you and see where things go from there.