September 24, 2024

i am grateful for ...
Zayne and Ezra,
fall's crisp air,
tea,
food and water,
books and pens,
meg <3,
my home,
the color green,
the time right before the sun rises and everything is quiet, dark yet beautiful,
my pink blanket,
the ability to feel every feeling even when it sucks,
plants, 
morning glories,
honey and maple syrup,
dried hydrangeas,
lemons.

 oct 10. 2024 
journal entry~

sometimes i feel bad for myself
like when things seem heavier than an empty sea,
when nothing happens but 

silent rain on a bland day.
sometimes i wish i could take it all back.
i could turn down a different road
     on days like today.
i wish no one knew my name and 
my story was unwritten.
   you can't change the life you previously lived
but moving forward 

  things can be different. 

 poem

i swallow the sweet words 

that gently fall from the side of his mouth.

for just one second, in THIS space, i feel fine.

i can feel his warmth all around me. 

 

i want to publish a children's book so bad. if you are an illustrator please help!!!

*vibes*

 

a February poem 

(different version) 

i feel indifferent like

i belong in the in between.

              the spaces between

                w o r d s,

  the gap between the ripple,

a space like Earth, but different.

where i can see through the fog

   of stress and mess.

"im feeling pretty indifferent lately"

   i whisper to the pink hydrangea,

while the winter moon glistens. 

poem

 i sit and wonder
when things will feel like me again.
we all change, but 
    this feels ravenous. 
i can't stop the hot tears and sad thoughts- 
haunted by the idea of losing you 
because i can't speak lately.
  i wonder how to feel and if you still care.
wound so tight i can barley breathe,
please just hold my aged and changed soul.
let me scream till i bleed just to feel- just 

to feel something again.
   just to make sure i am alive. freedom from pain
built up inside. i'm wound too tight 
i can't remember to breathe. when 
i speak again can anyone 
hear me? i feel a mossy kind of invisible lately,
where even my loudest scream doesn't reach. 
pain written all over my amber eyes and even my own 
  (dead)  father can't seem to help.
rip my heart out. while
   cloves and citrus fill the air, warm.
and nothing stands still. 

and i continue to sit and wonder

when things will feel like me again.