gifts from myself

When my heart feels like like it's dropping from heights
and my tears feel like the very moment heavy waves push the sand;
it's not a dangerous feeling
it's not evil or hopeless,
but it's my whole, entire heart.

When I become overwhelmed by everything I love and everything I have ever loved
everything I have ever lost and have yet to lose that my heart breaks for
everything I could ever want and hope for my own life and for others
every heart ache or hard day that felt like each day wasn't as golden
as it was
everything I have ever smelled, heard, practiced, touched.

Every skill I've ever wanted to learn,
every house I've dreamed of building,
every different world and life I've wanted to be a part of,
every version of me that could've been different,
every day ahead of me that could go a million different ways.

Really at the center all it has ever been was this skin and this mind
what holds each delicate feeling so safe.

My sunday songs
my comforts like
thinking of fireflies at dusk with my toes in the summer grass
the way the first delicate snow fall smells on an empty and quiet street
a winding road through the tall trees
a song on repeat for 12 days
a connection to a story, a movie, a character
the sound of leaves
the reel in my head that plays this perfect imagination
bells and build ups in that song
energy from a smoothie
mood swings up with clarity
true clarity
the moment I decide to just keep driving


They are gifts


from myself.

How do you start to write when your heart and mind are in 1,000 different places?  Here I sit, alone, in our apartment.  It is May 8th, 2016...Mother's Day.  When I think of the love that I have for my mother, I could cry.  When I think of the love that I have for her mother for the fact that she raised my mother, well I am crying.  Although her mind is slipping, the past remains.  Everything she built still remains.  How amazing is that.  I am always getting down on myself for being so attached to the past and things that have happened.  But how beautiful is that...sometimes it is all you have.  And it is so insanely powerful.  The past is why we have now.

I have been thinking about social media.  I have been reading about it, listening to podcasts, TED talks;  and it is hurting me more than ever.  My soul hurts to think that our society is completely enveloped in this ego-boosting monster.  This monster that is creating more monsters.  Now more than every every single person feels like the most important, the most special.  Every single person needs validation.  Every single person wants the best all the time.  This makes me feel sad for people,  it makes me not trust people.  My mind constantly reels on building a cabin.  On at least spending some time in solitude.  SOME. I need some.  I need something.  Or i'll crack out of my own damn head.

I was asleep, and you woke me up again.

6/4/15 Austin, TX: Jumbled Thoughts on Formative Memory

Looking back at photos from 06, 07, 08, etc...my heart is full. My heart is breaking. My heart remembers. It laughs, it sinks.  Mostly though, my heart sees.  There seems to be a trend photo after photo. Honesty.  At 23 I wouldn't trade who I am and what I've learned but I do feel some envy.  The girl in these photos and relationships was so deeply honest to herself.  Maybe it is skewed perspective looking back on things and not remembering insecurities or negativity, but I do see a different person.  I do sometimes mourn for her, for those relationships.  Innocence amongst it's opposite.  My brain has blocked out a lot of the memories I made during my formative years because of how deeply emotional or painful they were.  Because of the people I knowingly hurt.  Because all the while knowing the good person that I was, I did whatever I wanted.

Will things ever feel that good again?  Reckless.  I have always loved feeling reckless.  This 'adulthood' that I now hold is a title I swore I'd never boast about.  Even still behind my peers in "adult-life duties" I am so grown.

I may not remember a lot but I do remember the relationships that rocked my core.  The friends that I let go of whom I called every day.  I remember times with friends and with acquaintances and with loves in cycles of seasons, and in specific songs.  I remember my favorite shirts or pants from specific years.  I can't always recall events but I will never forget details or feelings.


Forwards
It feels so beautiful to move forwards.  To love so securely and endlessly.  To for once in my life not fear that I am not enough for another.  To not care what comes next in terms of school or career because love and this planet are enough.

But my heart will never stop mourning what has come before.

The Scary Realization That Most Of It Is For You

I'm not sure if you're still all there, but I know at least one finger is touching the right side of my beating chest. And I think that it always will be.

"You're the good things."
"Maybe that's just it... maybe we get a whole playlist."

You opened my closed mind and held close my heavy heart.
You were in my blood.

I don't think I've ever figured out how to clean myself of you.
But the truth is, I wouldn't ever want to.

I am still in love with August 2011 when our kiss stopped time.
With little self-control late that September evening when you grabbed my hair on the front porch.
     A walk to the lake and an arm around me put me in a place I had never been.
With a text message "I like you, you know"
     Something small felt so big.
With November 12th when you said you loved me for the first time.
With all the nights we both spent alone, our thoughts and words yet together.
     All the movies we watched apart at the same time.
With April 8th, 2012 when I kissed you again.
With May 25th when we held hands and shared chicken nuggets, mustard tiger.
    An ice cream cone painted on your stomach, you were truly mine.
With September when you thought 'friends' was better and left my heart  raw.
With November when I was back in your sweatshirt.
With December when I shared with you a Christmas gift and my bed on a regular basis.
With January 2013 when I picked you up from being with another girl.
     You said you loved me in passing.
With March when your house was still cold but I sat in my jacket soaking in the sound of your drums.
With June and July when most nights we were next to each other and most mornings we had pancakes.
With August with every last second.
And with Now.

Unrequited

The outline of your face in photos speaks well.
"How is your mom?"
My tongue spits sincerely;
but who lives behind?
I do miss you with fingers crossed.

It is when I need a period to finish my sentence
When 1:34 a.m. is too dark
When my evil wants to hear she is pure
There is a gap between "a good place" and the comfort of singularity
I unfold you and wrap you around my shivering parts.

It is too easy to water the weeds.
After all, it is nice to see green in the garden.

21

Dear 21,

I see you standing, feet planted firmly in the soil of perfect mistakes. I look at you, though, and I wonder how you got so tall. When did you become so strong? Your path to a smile is so much clearer.
I see your tears for 3 year old scrapes and bruises.
I see your ugly sob for 16 year old breakups.
I can feel your heart murmur for 20 year old lost chances,
empty promises,
and realizations that not everything
                               is what it seems.

But I did not see your strength until now.
Everyday you were growing, changing.
You were walking along a path to make your pain productivity.

I look at you standing, 21, and I see your wisdom.
I see your simple joys.
I see your laugh in tears
and your steps in weakness.

I am so glad I know you, 21.
I can't wait to stand behind you
        and watch you walk to 83.