Let's get one thing straight (Think Thoughts.)

My brain is not my friend.
On that note neither is my body.
Both of these offending objects try and kill me on multiple occasions. Normally that processes is attempted like 40 times in the same day. Like today, I've been working my tail off for an 8 hour shift, and I've been doing my best to keep in contact with friends. My brain however, doesn't care. It looks me in the soul and says,
"You're not working hard enough, I wonder if you worked harder people might actually want to spend time with you."

What the hell?
NO!

Listen, I know what that voice is, it's Anxiety or Depression. Some kind of chemical changing my vibe from good to gross in a matter of seconds. No one thinks I'm not working hard, and people love me!
But that doesn't stop the voice.

So, why write this?
Why post yet another homage to my messed up connections?

You might just be thinking the same thing. You might feel useless and hopeless, like no one in the world likes you. Don't believe the hype, you are so wonderful! You're the most wonderful you in the world! The only you.
So don't listen to your bastard track.
You go be the most wonderful you that you can manage.

What Do You Want? (3.7.16)

Out of all the possibilities I imagined as a sad and scared 10 year old, this was never one of them.
Perhaps dying, brilliantly and tragically, at 16 with so much life ahead of me.
Perhaps living, a young genius, whose mind was unrivaled. Published author at 15.
Perhaps lost, homeless and cold, but free. 17 with nowhere to land.

Now I'm 18, I live in my grandparents house, I struggle to finish a single class, I fight myself constantly.
"You cannot do this, not today, lay back down and sleep." Is what my mind whispers to me, cruel and unrelenting.
My heart screams, "This is just a moment," "This too shall pass," and "You are stronger than this,"
Millions of other platitudes recourse around my grey matter, until I am forced to collapse.

I feel lost, like I'm dying and living all in the same breath. Like tomorrow will be the raindrop that breaks the leavy. It never is.
I spout the same nonsense to anyone who will listen. As if repeating the lie will make it true,
"I'm an adult, I know what I'm doing."
A mantra whispered to a pretty boy with soft eyes and small smile. A war cry screeched at siblings, who are more afraid of their future than I am of mine.

I want the world, I want the stars and the planets and the oceans. I want an open apartment, with large windows that look out into the snow globe world. I want the freedom to pursue flights of fancy, and the security to fall.
I want a place for my marshmallow heart to call home.

I'm a scared and sad 18 year old now, so let us imagine once more.
Perhaps successful, living in a new city where I've carved my own path, 29 with so much still to do.
Perhaps mountainous, 22 with eyes cut from sapphires, glinting with righteous fury and thirsting for blood.
Perhaps found, 25 with a hand to hold, a bed to sleep in, and somewhere to be.

In-between the In-between (11.16.16)

Find me in the middle place,
Between closed doors
Above cracked window panes.

A liminal space for you and I.
Carve out time to see you smile,
Look alive, the sun is going on.

Borderlands,
An unclaimed wild for you and I to share.
Jealousy holds no sway.

My jealousy is pushing you away.

Goddess (11.4.16)

Pretty Girl without even trying
Bats her eyes and wins the world.
Lusts over a boy who left her crying,
Smudged her makeup and ruined her curls.

So Pretty Girl got all dolled up,
Wore her high-high heals to worship at that alter in the sky.
Said goodbye to Sad Boy who sent her flying,
Said goodbye to the ones who made he lie.

"I'm no pretty girl," Pretty Girl would bash,
Cause Sad Boy got so scared,
When other Pretty People noticed her.

Pretty Girl loves Sad Boy,
So when the anger fades, the heels come off.
She'll be his pretty girl,
Until she's not.

NaNo-Fucking-WriMo 2k16

Yep.

Y'all it's November, and those of you in novel writing circles will know exactly what that means. It's NaNoWriMo, 'national write a novel in a month' month for the laymen. Writers all over the internet sphere will be tearing their respective hairs out this month. As we all valiantly press on to write 50,000 words in one month. Personally, i'm shooting for 10,000. I haven't participated in NaNoWriMo since my first attempt back in 2014, so hopefully I don't explode.

Wish me luck, i'll be keeping track of my word count with a gidget in the corner. And occasionally i'll update y'all.

Happy NaNoWriMo, now go forth and be brilliant!
(sorry Edwards.)