Do I belong here?  I can’t tell.

When you’re young, you’re so sure about things even when life is full of uncertainty. And now that I’m old, I’m so unsure even though most things in my life are certain.

Can I still use abuse as an excuse for the things I do? The way she touched me, over a decade ago, still fueling this insecurity? The way he bruised me, all those years ago, still fueling this hatred?  I grew up. I thought I was grown up. What the fuck does that even mean?

I used to want people to hurt me I think.  It was all I knew and my body ached for touch, even if it burned and stung. And my mind longed for thoughts of fear and worry. But I don’t want that anymore. I don’t desire that, anymore.

I want joy and peace and to be able to really breathe without bracing for impact from the next traumatic thing that’s going to happen to me.

My choices are better. They should be promoting a healthier, happier, better version of me. But what the fuck does that mean? I don’t care to give into the idea of constant self discovery.  I know who I am, who I can be, who I’m not, who I want to be. But still, I’m like this.

I’m not dead inside. I’m full of passion and pride and wants and desires. What for you ask? That’s the part that makes me tired.

I’m stable. I do what I need to do. I choose things that I should choose.  But my heart hurts.  And even when it doesn’t hurt, it’s not healing. If I don’t heal, if I don’t change, if I don’t know. 

What. Is. The. Point.  Will someone tell me I belong?

Do I belong? I can’t tell.


I woke up //

I’ve been stuck in a nightmare for as long as I can remember

every time someone told me they couldn’t do it anymore I fell back into the same place

it’s like I could feel their words touching me, like hands on my throat and in control of my breath

allowing me to stay alive, allowing enough oxygen to my brain for it to function but not enough for me to fully breathe

and when I went there I couldn’t help but think of the smell of iron because I knew I needed to need it

after a while I got passed all of that. I found a way to catch my breath and take my mind elsewhere

and I thought that that was progress because there was no mess and that was just my process, but then I went back

I know I think someone was to blame, and I think I know sometimes it was me, but that sometimes it was them

neither was good because both ended with me hating myself and no solution

cut because it hurts it hurts because you can’t cut don’t cut because cutting is bad cutting is bad because you should love yourself but you don’t love yourself so cut

I didn’t want to be in that place but I couldn’t get out. I couldn’t take their hands off my throat that I was holding there. I couldn’t stop wanting it because I wanted it. when did I change?

like I said I could feel their words touching me

the f*cked up part is that as much as that hurt when they stopped talking I missed the feeling because it was the only contact i could truly know and feel

what’s wrong with me and why can’t i fix it? I’m not sure how to answer

I think I know what’s up with me but I don’t know how wrong it is and that’s what needs fixing

but I woke up today

I decided not to go back there

I decided to let go of their hands from their words on my throat

I decided to fight the urge to fight myself

I decided the blame didn’t matter

I decided I wasn’t going back there

and I woke up

I woke up

middle left; middle right

You have

ruined me

made me

turned me into

a joke

the strongest person I know

you taught me

to give up

why stop

you gave me

no hope

the will to go

You showed me

how to take a hit

how to hit

the pain from you

makes me want to quit

i move on from it

your tears show

you are weak

you are sorry in some way

shouldn’t make you mad

it gets you lit

I am the bigger person these days

Dad means

biological father

life lesson

memory of you

is really a bother

might be a blessing

one day

i’ll forget most of you

i’ll forgive you

all i can say is

I hate you

I still love you

six word memoirs six word memoirs

Everything is going to be okay.

Everything right now is not okay.

Everything absolutely has to be okay.

I am and never am okay.

I have to be okay, always.

Rambling words is not a thing.

I need help is three words.

Three words are not nearly enough.

English taught me six word memoirs.

My life in six word memoirs.

Can six words explain a story?

My story will forever be unexplainable.

I need help, I know it.

I can’t ask for help, can you?

Everything is going to be okay.

Everything right now is not okay.

Everything absolutely has to be okay.

I know //

I keep wondering how I got here, I guess I just let myself go.

How I strayed so far away, I don’t know.

Ruined everything I had, washed it right down the drain.

I thought I’d be okay, but it just poured the rain.

I wasn’t okay with the fact you were gone.

But I couldn’t hold on any longer, it had been too long.

I know it seems selfish but I could finally breathe.

I didn’t have to worry anymore I just had to grieve.

a roads truth

I was told to write a list of things that are known to be true.

I know that I am forever unwilling to let go of my hatred towards you.

I know that when my body gets stiff and irritation shoots up my spine that’s not me.

I know that I would rather you get it over with fast and quick instead of being a tease.

I know how much you despise when I cry and yell and scream.

I know I so desperately want to get rid of all these terrible dreams.

I know I can drive and drive on this road.

I know no matter how far I go I’ll never be able to let go.

light //

they took the light out of her

she didn’t want to smile anymore

they took the goodness in her heart

so much she didn’t know who she was before

she tried to find herself

but He found her first

He gave her the light back

He gave her the world

sometimes she still hurt

and things were destroyed

but He died to save her world

and she remembered her joy