Wish I Were

beautiful, Creative Writing, Hope, Journal, Love, Nature, Personal, Poetry, Poetry Wednesday, Small Things

I wish I were eloquent,
Eucalyptus in the wind.
How sea foam gently glides – pure and white.

Wish I were simple,
Notes of cocoa in coffee,
the sound of C-Major on a spring day.

Wish I were warming,
Tea on a bitter cold night,
The prolonged hug.

Wish there was a moral, a meaning, a story.

 

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Loving Endlessly (To An Extent)

feminism, fuck you, Hope, Humanist, Journal, Love, Loving Life, Partner, Peace, Personal, Relationships

In the world, there is only one person you can truly count on – and that is yourself. While we – as human beings – do want to feel love, belonging, and predictability in the world; if you rely on someone for those things you can’t find true satisfaction and peace.

That’s why I’m looking to myself to find love, because I know it’s in me. That’s why I am accepting and loving myself for who I am right now, because the only person who will truly accept me 100% without judgement is myself.

Someone who doesn’t care enough about you, or who doesn’t see a future with you is not someone you would have lived a happy life with. Someone who uses you for affection and emotional stability is not a healthy partner, and you are better off without them. Someone who you disagree with on a constant basis is not going to make you happy in the long run, and you will be happier, healthier, and live a better life with out them in it.

If someone doesn’t love me, and we break up, then I see no loss.
If someone moves on and they didn’t want to be with me, there is no loss.
If you love someone and they do not love you back in the same way, there is no loss if they leave your life.

I’m better off alone, then with someone who doesn’t love me for everything that I am. I’ve learned this not just through breakups, but also with my father. He didn’t love me for who I was, and since he has been excluded from my life I have been happier and healthier. Toxic relationships never work out and will only drain you of the love you have. Save that love.

I love who I am, flaws and everything – because over attachment and stretch marks are me. Caring about things a little too passionately, that is me. I am embracing the fact that I overthink, that I am short, that I can be an awkward mess – because I don’t want to change anything about myself.

I do not need someone else to complete me or make me happy – I don’t need another person to fulfill my biological need of love and belonging. I love myself endlessly, and I belong to the world. I am happy this way.

Loving other people is also one of my things. I always love someone, whether it’s my dog, my sisters, or a love interest. I’m finding that it’s in my nature to love people and animals, it’s something that I as a person need to do to be happy. I care.

My Perfect Partner: Revised

Atheism, beautiful, Beauty, equality, Family, feminism, Future, Hope, Humanist, Journal, Love, Loving Life, New, Partner, Peace, Perfect, Personal, Relationships, science, Small Things, Smiling

About five months ago, on august 1st of 2016, I wrote a post about my perfect partner. While most of it is still true, I wanted to revise it. After going through my last relationship, some updating needed to happen.

My perfect partner would be taller than me, pretty fit or small, kiss really well. Someone who is sexual, and understand the appeal of large cities. Someone who would be down for adventure at any hour. They would remind me of what I love when I am sad. Preferably would have brown or dark hair, would wear leather shoes (probably oxfords or sandals). High libido. They would play chess, read for leisure, cook occasionally. Someone who would appreciate music with foreign lyrics and instrumental pieces. They would have the desire to see the world, to go places. Someone who loves foggy weather, as well as the rainy days. They would share my nerdy side, loving Lord of the Rings, Sherlock, The X-files, or whatever I’m interested in then as much as me. We would share the same taste in music and humor, I mean, a relationship with puns would have to be a good one. They kind of need to love sushi, because it’s literally my favorite. They would be an open-minded person who looks at (and doesn’t ignore) facts, someone who uses reasoning and skepticism to come to conclusions. A critical thinker, an intelligent being. Their occupation would be in a field of science or art, they would be a logical person with soft emotions. They would be passionate and caring, interesting but not a douche, kind but not in a delusional way. Ethically, I would see in them what I aspire to be. They would aspire to know everything they could, never stop learning. Someone who wants to make a change in the world, who is as crazy as I am in thinking that we could actually make a difference – but they don’t let that stop them.

Someone who would understand that I have my many emotional issues, and they wouldn’t guilt me for having them. They would understand that sometimes I need to be loved. Someone who wouldn’t mind my spam texting them, or that I over analyze the simplest of things. They wouldn’t mind that I can overreact to things, because let’s face it, I can make a lot of issues for myself. They would understand that I have a difficult time loving people, that I have a difficult time trusting someone after that trust has been broken. They would understand that I am a person who fluctuates in everything: emotions, weight, ideas. I’m constantly changing and don’t like settling.

Most importantly, we would want to make a relationship together work. We would make the other feel at peace, and loved. There will be no “if we’re still together then”, there would be trust and mutual satisfaction. There wouldn’t be that looming sense that one day we would break up.

I feel the intense desire to be in a long term relationship with someone like this. Surprisingly, nothing drastic has changed in the last five months, but a lot of little things were not the same anymore.

And of course, we would have to love each other.

Breaking up

Hope, Journal, Love, Memories, Partner, Personal, school, Small Things

I hadn’t noticed, but you stopped saying you loved me four days ago.
I wasn’t paying attention, but you didn’t come to the door when you picked me up today.
It didn’t mean anything earlier, but you didn’t talk to me on the way to your house.

When you dropped me off, you told me not to message you.

You don’t love me anymore, do you?
I guess it’s time to unfriend your mom.

Time to get rid of the gifts you gave me.
Time to prepare for the awkwardness when we see each other in class.
Time to change your name from “Babe” to “That ex” in my contacts.
Time to walk alone at night from school when no one else can drive me.

Time for the fuck boys, the dating accounts, the being a bad ass bitch.
Time for the flirting with guys and ending my nights with binge eating and tears.

Today, we broke up. I started writing this post three days ago, and decided not to post it because I thought we could make things work.

But tonight, as I sat in your car and asked questions about why you had stayed with me and why you wanted to break up with me before, how you felt together.. And I couldn’t convince myself that it would work anymore.

I heard you say you were unhappy.
I heard you say we weren’t compatible.
I heard you say these and I couldn’t say a word.

So I broke up with you.
I got out of your car, and I walked home.
I walked past the place we had our first kiss – where I leaned on your shoulder and felt safe for the first time in months.
I got on the street where I live, and took off my shoes and ran – sobbing.
I saw where you would always park.

When I walked inside my house, my mom asked me what happened..

I texted my friends

I gathered all the stuff you gave me.

I archived our messages, but couldn’t convince myself to delete all the pictures of us on my phone. I’m not ready for that.

I showered.

And now here I am, sitting alone in my house sobbing because I realized how shitty our last kiss was. How I didn’t even say bye to your mom the last time I saw her. How I would have hugged your dogs one last time – but I didn’t think that it was the end, so how would I have known to?

I don’t know what to do. I feel really alone and I miss you, but I know that in a few days, or even weeks, I might stop realizing the things I mentioned. And slowly, I’ll stop thinking about you altogether. I’ll forget about our shitty last kiss, and about the fact that you couldn’t get me to orgasm the last time you tried – I’ll forget about all the things I did for you that I hated (blow jobs, namely).

But I am glad that we ended things before it got too serious. I couldn’t have been a military/army wife. I didn’t want to have kids. The fact that you went to church with your dad annoyed me, and honestly – we just had a lot of things we disagreed on.

It wasn’t until I realized that you couldn’t or were unwilling to make the same sacrifices as I was, that I knew we weren’t going to work. I thought you were okay with how liberal/needy I am, but I guess not.

I’ll miss getting lunch with you. I’ll miss meeting you in between classes. But we are over now, and I’ll just have to get over that.

Say Anything

Hope, Humanist, Jealousy, Journal, Love, Memories, Partner, Personal, Poetry, Small Things

I don’t want to hear about your ex,
or the sad girl who needs your attention.

I don’t want to hear about your last relationship,
how things ended.

I don’t want to have reasons to be suspicious,
I don’t want to question if you care.

But when you talk about the sad people,
the people who needed you..
I feel like you don’t care about me.

We already are hardly talking.
We already have sexual issues.
We already have trouble communicating.

When we’re sitting in your car,
you don’t talk to me.
I look you in the eyes, thinking
“say something, say anything
but you are silent.

I just want a conversation,
a dialogue between two people.
I want a witty banter.

I’ve had enough of uneventful,
somber, silent, painful car rides.
I’ve sat in cars with guys who never talked.
I’ve been left sitting in the silence
wondering if they’ll ever open their mouth.

Say anything.

It makes me selfish.
It makes me a bitch.
It makes me jealous.
It makes me who I am
And nothing less.

At The End of The Day

Blame, Domestic Violence, Family, fathers, feminism, forgotten, fuck you, Future, home, Hope, Humanist, Journal, no trust, Personal

Who does Bryan think he is? To come downstairs and start raising his voice at me in my house, on the one day I have off from school and other activities.

Sure, our house wasn’t clean, but I was going to clean it. I made a To Do list and cleaning the whole house was on there..

But instead of rationally discussing the fact that there was a dirty pan on the stove and the floor could stand to be swept, he yelled at me. He threw something across the room and saying “go ahead and run away” as I packed up my things so I could do my homework in peace.

On that note, I shouldn’t have to fucking worry about being able to do my homework on a saturday when it’s just me there with my moms boyfriend. I shouldn’t have to think twice about having to come home when it will just be him and I there. He can’t control his temper, he has anger outbursts. He spanks kendra out of anger when Riley and I have expressed our discomfort with it, when we have talked to our mom and told her how we feel.

I shouldn’t have to feel like my mom won’t listen to me because she will automatically take sides with Bryan. She doesn’t hear what I have to say, or she does but she doesn’t care that her boyfriend makes my life uncomfortable. That he makes me uncomfortable in my own home.

I am valid in feeling like my mother’s boyfriend should not raise his voice at me when I am alone with him. I am valid in feeling that my mom does not care about my emotions when she sides with him. Just because my mom does not agree with me, just because my mom does not hear me, just because my mom is choosing to stay with a man who has hurt all of her children, does not make my opinions, feelings, or ideas invalid.

At the end of the day, I am just a sixteen year old who wants her mother to care about her.

At the end of the day, I am just a sixteen year old who could really use a parent with good judgement.

At the end of the day, I just want to feel like someone has my best interest at heart.

Love Many Times Over

Her, Hope, Journal, Love, Loving Life, Memories, New, Peace, Perfect, Personal, Poetry, Small Things, Smiling

I live for the feeling of excitement,

The moment you realize you’re doomed.

When the emotions capsize and leave you helpless

In the otherwise dead, lifeless world.

It’s much like the sensation of cold wind on warm day,

Leaving your neck hairs standing on end.

The fastened heartbeat, shallow breaths,

Future flashing before your eyes.

When you realize you’re in love again.

Poetry

beautiful, Beauty, Hope, Humanist, Journal, Love, Loving Life, Memories, Nature, Peace, Perfect, Personal, Poetry, school, Small Things, Smiling

Sweet voices, little voices

they wander in the garden.

Saying words that mean so little –

Saying words that mean so much.

Their words traverse through the garden,

they wander aimlessly.

The little voices have little feet

that will carry their bodies far.

I left

Babies, beautiful, bisexual, Family, forgotten, Future, Hope, Journal, Love, Memories, Peace, Personal, school, Uncategorized

I write, I move, I lose people I love, and the world goes on.

I finally made the decision to move to my mom’s, and it took me two years to finally come to terms with that. I knew it was what I needed to do, that all roads led here. It took that time to realize it would be the best, that it would make me happy.

I’ve had to juggle houses for so long, it doesn’t feel right staying in one place. I had to say goodbye to places and people. I’ve said goodbye to a lot of stuff, but the valley has been the hardest on me.

My last meeting, the last time I saw my Education Coordinator. He gave me a book, he told me about how he watched my growth in school. He handed me a folder of some of my most notable high school work. I cried.

I went to the parking lot, wishing I could pause time and say goodbye to every last thing there. Every place I had a special moment. Wishing I could give eternal hugs to every person I had come to know there. I cried.

My mom drove me out to my hometown, a little country town that’s mostly orange trees and cow pastures. We drove past my first house, and my second, third, and fourth. We passed people we once knew, but don’t anymore. Passed my first love’s house, he was out on his porch. Didn’t recognize us. We cried.

We kept driving, stopping in the town where I had been living these last three years. We stopped by my grandparent’s. Then to this mexican food establishment, I got some of my favorite tacos in all of the valley. Walked by the place Cadence works, by the place Megan’s mom works. By the old residence of a woman I knew who had to give it up because her cancer got too bad. I walked the streets of a town I had always known, to get in a car and drive to a city where I only knew my mom’s condo and a single barista at starbucks. I got in that car and I cried.

During that long car ride,I didn’t think about ex boyfriends or how I am plagued with PTSD. I didn’t think about how much I hated how my grandparents treated me, or that I hadn’t come out to my mom yet.

I thought about how I was leaving behind the only place I had ever lived or grown to love.

I was leaving behind my small town, one that I was so sure would be where I lived for years to come when I had been young. I imagined having a family and working there, I imagined where I would get married there, who I would invite..

But just like how I left Elderwood, and those people forgot me, I left Visalia. Pretty soon everyone I was close to, they will move on. We will remember things fondly, but they won’t be important anymore.

Now my friends are all hours away from me. Most of my family, too. I sleep on a sofa in a tiny condo and I sit alone and watch tv. I’m really lonely, I’m really frustrated, and I don’t feel loved like I had expected.

In a year and a half I’ll be an adult. In two years I’ll be off to college. In six to eight I’ll probably be graduating. From there, I’ll live my life. I’ll get a job, make friends, maybe even have a family. There will be holidays and deaths, births and marriages.. But I will never forget the day I left my childhood behind.

No One Believes Us

Awareness, Domestic Violence, Hope, Journal, Memories, Personal, Poetry

The monster who crept the hallways at midnight,

in a drunken state, blood red eyes, putrid breath.

He raised his hand, I covered my head.

Silent tears were wept as I heard footsteps come down the hall,

Nervous energy, a dark cloud crept over our home.

terrified children, ignorant children,

but we were scared and battered, thinking no one cared.

How does he still control me? I thought we got away years ago. But I can still feel his hand, right before it hit my cheek.

People, they don’t believe us.

They think I tell lies.

He got to them first,

got them on his side,

charming them with his new haircut, clean shaved,

Telling them he’d changed.

Now no one believes us.

Sent us to therapy, said that’d be enough.

but I lay awake at night, hyperventilating, tears streaming down my face,

just because I thought I heard something coming down the hallway.

No one believes us,

To them it’s just about the money

The lawyers bills and court documents,

it’s just a case.

Children and custody,

Splitting the furnishings.

But at one point it was about a scared little girl,

crying in her room.

It was about the family who had a monster, just behind the front door.