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A Beautiful Day

When the day is really hard,

When you don’t really know what you’re doing,

When it feels like everything you try falls apart,

Look out the window.

Listen to the wind blow.

Notice where the sun shines.

No sun?

Watch the clouds,

They always have something nice to say.

Watch the river,

You know it doesn’t have problems moving on.

Maybe you do,

Maybe that’s ok.

But when the day is hard,

It’s still a day.

You’re still going to get through it.

You’re still doing great.

Hear the wind blow.

It’s louder than any problem you’ll ever know.

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Night thoughts

We did this together. You’re most of what I can remember. 

Our love was beautifully terrible. Destructive.

But we found ourselves. 

Or at least, I found myself. 

You seem lost these days but I won’t speak for you. 

From all that we destroyed in each other, we created something beautiful. I’m glad it was you. Sometimes I hate you, but I’m glad. It couldn’t have been anyone else. 

I still keep a picture of us in my wallet. I still see your face in my dreams.

I don’t want you anymore but I’m not going to pretend that you don’t mean anything. 

I want you all the time. But I don’t really know what I want. 

I don’t really know where you are.

But you’re right there. 

And you live this new life and I’m not in it. 

But I’m right here. 

No matter how much you don’t want me to be. I’m right here. 

Our lives are intertwined. 

I wish they weren’t. 

I’m glad they are. 

A hopeless contradiction of love and hate. 

The state

Of us. 

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When your true love is something you’ve always had and can never have again

I don’t remember much before him.

When I saw him my world changed.

It was always everything. We both knew it. Immediately, our lives intertwined.

I was so young. 13 is a delicate age.

When we met, he was blue and I was trying to be one of them.

A year passes, he wants something else. That’s ok. We were young. But I was devastated. My world rocked. I had to leave.

“I’m going to slit your throat, drain your blood, put it in a bottle and send it to your mother so she can she what a mess you’ve become.” -Him

14 is a delicate age. Alone again. No family. Only broken memories and a whirlwind of courtrooms and foster homes. Trying to be accepted in a whole new world.

An apology. Someone reaching out. Someone asking me for help when I thought I had nothing. All they wanted was me, right?

So I promised I’d be there.

Risks were high. A weekend home on a train to nowhere right, but he was there. Along the way.

“I’ll meet you there. Just get off the train.” -Him

I never got off the train. I was scared. I thought I had family. Maybe I could go out and visit him the right way.

I missed my train.

Years pass. Life happens.

17 is a delicate age. Living with a man, really trying to be a whole person. Still alone in a world gone wrong. Family in distant intimate spaces.

A way out.

“Pack your things, I’ll come and get you.” -Him

My knight in shining armor, here at last. This was it. We were going to be together forever. Everything was perfect.

Chaos. Manic. Love.

We were together. Beauty came. A perfect; amazing; beautiful child. Words could never express how happy I was that he was ok and that he was ours.

That he is ours.

Then there was us. The baby and I. Our son, and growing is hard.

And he worked so hard.

But I worked so hard.

And we didn’t see each other working so hard. And we were alone. There were people who didn’t want us to be together;

Who were alone;

Who were scared of being alone.

Depression.

I left. I shouldn’t have left.

I left.

Then he came back.

Then he left.

Then he came back.

Goddammit. Life. I always wanted it to work.

We had this beautiful dream. Of going to hell and back. Of adventure and chaos. Everything would be ok..

But he was never really there.

And I still stumble around in all this “adventure and choas” that I thought we would be in together. All of us. Our perfect son experiencing the glory of the dreams we had.

“Stop calling us family.” -Him

I am alone.

He lives his dreams and I live mine.

I hope things will be ok someday.

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A Chosen End

6 Friends. 

6 friends and Robin Williams. 

You’d think it might get easier, but it doesn’t. You just understand it more. 

So, I’ll write your name on my heart and put another tic on the chart of life. 

6. It seems like a lot. 

I’d ask why, but I get it. 

Because every day is hard. Sometimes your so deep in your hole, you can’t see the sky, and the walls crumble beneath your fingers and feet everytime you think you’ve found a good grip to hold on, and you and your whole world come crashing back down to the bottom. 

Sometimes the world is a dark place. Full of war and terror and dying children, alone and hungry with no memory of real life or real love. 

Sometimes it seems like everything is going wrong and you can’t get ahead. 24 years playing the game of life, how did I end up here? Or there? Or alone? Or surrounded by all these shitty people?

Why don’t I love the things I used to love? What am I supposed to do with my life? Where am I going? What’s the next step? What is the fucking point? 

Everytime I carve another notch in the bedpost of friends lost, I get to close to not being able to see the light. 

Remembering that living the adventure, feeling the pain, see the shit, loving the unloved. Remember, that is the point. 

The point of this plane is to love and feel pain. Don’t worry. It’ll be over soon. Don’t leave the us behind so quickly.