Transparent and breakable

More dreams. They only get more twisted. Taking my hopes as hostage and rendering them listless. Making sense of everything’s nothing. And -nothing- makes sense. Rising up, more like a limbo., seeking to find what is it of truth I may know. I feel like I am reaching into a melting pot and the ideas are ripe and the fruit is not. How do I get back to the feeling of elevating where the words spoken are the rhythms validating love. Endlessly. Entirely giving more more more. Still wanting to give more more more. But silence, it is misleading. Gaps are filled with meaningless pleading to an empty space. The wetness is recognized by my face and the facing of history in retrace mode. Please, I beg myself. Do not implode. Not again. Not this time. Rise up and receive the divine. Maybe In Time I will see and we will see. Maybe in time it will all make sense to me. But while time dares to not pass, I stretch my heart thin and it shatters like the glass. The same glass that I built my hearts house with, transparent and breakable in the name of love. Transparent and and breakable in the name of love. Transparent and breakable in the name of love.

Who we are

.

Heavy on my heart is this…

Who we are.

I think about as a parent, how often I get angry with my kids, and the tone i take, and the lack of patience or listening or showing of care to what they are showing. Yes I fail and slack. I lack the ability to give them all that I want to give and in turn get angry and behave against them.

I think about as a daughter, the many many times I feel like a burden, or i take and take, and religiously fail to give back.

I think about as a friend how I am not accessible to those that want to spend their blessed time with me because I am preoccupied with my stress, or my life, or trust reciprocates.

I think about as a lover, how I lack faith or trust or have high expectations. I’m difficult to love and put stress on relationships due to previous experiences that have proven me to be an idiot and leave me in doubt or constant questioning. Half truths and double standards.

I think about as a teacher, how I slack on preparation sometimes because I don’t have the energy to get it all together and give full attention to some lessons or self requirements I want to do for my class. How I am sometimes in my brain and less engaged with their precious minds helping them to my full capacity to reach their potential at the time given.

I think about as a community member how much I wish I could give more to the people who are around me, but find myself feeling like a self-hermitting outcast and pulling away from further communication or involvement.

And then.. in think about how I want to believe I am…

I think about much I love my children. How I would literally give my last breath to give them life. How much I support their wants and dreams and encourage them to be themselves in their fullest desire. I work hard to be there for them during all their times they need me or want me. I put time with them over working more hours and give as much as i humanly can to show them how to be a decent human being.

I think about how much I try to show gratitude to my parents. Being aware that they give so much to keep myself and my children cared for. Telling them I love them and raising their grandchildren to honor their lineage with respect and love.

I think about how as a friend I don’t judge anything they do. I am frank and honest but I always support their decisions in life and let them know they are amazing. I tell my friends what Blessings they are to me and how I am truly grateful they give me the time in their lives to help each other grow. And if someone really needs me, like I’m called upon, I’m trying my best to be there for them, or at least I hope I am.

I think about how as a lover, I love hard. I am honest, transparent and loyal to a fault. I give and give of myself to show how much I love. I don’t cheat and I don’t lie to my lover. I am willing to go be where I am wanted and extend inclusion wholeheartedly.

I think about as a teacher how I go into it with the heart to help our humanity. Molding minds. Showing them that there are people in this world who love them endlessly and want to see them grow and succeed. Giving thought and care into what I show them and how I treat them so that they too, can be a loving individual as they live.

I think about as a community member how much I enjoy knowing the people around me. I greet them and wave and hug as often as I can. I give much time to our youth and support as often as I can. I involve myself into our town and participate where I’m needed or wanted. Most of the kids know they are in a safe place here.

My point is this…

You literally never know when the last time you might see someone or speak to someone is. This is in a lot of hearts. Particularly for me, since I lost a daughter that never got the chance to live the life we all take for granted.

How we treat people. How we love people. How we act when we are hurt, sad, angry, joyful, happy, loved…

so, accept where you fall short and then push on to be the better you. Be the person in private people think you are in public. Be who you want people to believe you are. Because the reality is, I’d rather be the person that when someone last saw them or spoke to them, they knew I was being honest. They knew I was grateful. They knew I loved them. And there was no doubt that I was anyone other than who they thought I was and who I believe I should be to them.

Love hard and live honestly.

It’s probably anger coming out. I try to be understanding. I can’t say anything to anyone because I want to protect you,or rather the image of you that people have. I just want to scream, “what the fuck is wrong with you?” I always end up feeling like I am the one who has something wrong with them. I can’t get through any day without obsessing over what you are “actually doing,” or “who you’re talking to and how.” I wonder why do I feel like this? With all the love you give, why do I not actually feel loved by you. Perhaps it’s because on Days like this, the anniversary of my daughters death, you don’t ask me at all how I’m doing. You just flood me with how you’re feeling about your day and your kids. It’s noon. And not once have you ventured into how my heart is. Yes, I know you know I’m in pain. But that should not stop you from acknowledging my actual feelings or inquiries of to how I actually am. And all I can think about is “who you’re messaging and sending pics to now.” I’ve learned that I am not the only one. And you don’t care to see boundaries. And I, on the anniversary of my daughters death am angry about YoU. You have been the reason I can’t heal. You don’t facilitate empathy when I really need it. And I can’t stop loving you. I can’t stop you from dominating my brain. I can’t stop hoping that you’ll actually love me the way I beg to be loved. And I can’t walk away.

Graphed Out

Graphed out. Exposure of pointed frames. Framed by the idea of what is translated as the same. The axis of x is different than the axis of y and why Is what I ask.

Graphed out. Exposures of the brain. Powered by the motivation of what is played as a game. The dice rolled as the movement some times the move comes too fast.

Graphed out. Saturation of emotion. Hues of intention pixelate in their space. The rise and fall of painted expectation is a selfish race.

Graphed out. Representing the vision. Giving a shutter to shudder from the incision. Pushing the speed of rejected or accepted implication.

Graphed out. Transparent with force. Presenting an expression of stifled composure. Giving the inside a chance for its external exposure.

I’m the asshole

What does it matter if my brain falls apart. Every time I express more shatter happens to my heart. Grief is overflowing and the day just goes on by. So what does it matter if again, today I cry. It’s been stated, already heard, so what is the importance now. Life keeps on moving for everyone, and for me I’m not sure how. I’m sad. But aren’t we all sad about something too. I’m the asshole that compares my pain to you. My trigger makes me lack the empathy I need in the moment. My anger makes me see the lack in me, I guess I should own it. But I’m in grief. I try to share for some comfort, some relief. But the day just keeps on going. I’m the one left with my pain growing. But hey. Tomorrow is a new day. Hey. Tomorrow it’ll probably go away.

Grow or Go

I KNOW YOU’RE NOT READING THIS. I KNOW YOU DON’T CARE. BUT IF YOU COULD DO THE WORLD A FAVOR AND TRY TO BE FAIR. DELETE ME ENTIRELY OR FACE UP TO OUR TRUTH. BE A BETTER EXAMPLE OF LOVE FOR OUR YOUTH. LET THEM SEE MATURITY. LET THEM SEE GROWTH. LET THEM SEE THAT IN YOU, THERE IS A FUTURE OF HOPE. SHOW THE COMPASSION THAT COMES AS NATURAL AS THE ACT. HAVE COMMUNICATION THAT SHOWS YOU DO IN FACT HAVE TACT. WELCOME GROWTH FOR YOUR SOUL, THE KIND THAT MOVES MOUNTAINS INSIDE. SHOW SOME LOVE AND LET DOWN THE HIGH PRIDE. BE WHO YOUR SOUL CLAIMS AND LET LOVE LEAD THE WAY. SILENT DISREGARD IS A FOOLISH GAME TO PLAY. IT PRESENTS OPPONENTS RATHER THAN TEAMMATES OF THIS EARTH. IT SETS LOVE ASIDE AND LEADS ONLY WITH HURT. YOU GIVE TO THE WORLD BUT REFUSE TO TAKE PART, IN OWNERSHIP OF LOVE OR IN THE HEALING OF WOUNDED HEARTS.

WHEN IT COMES TO ACCOUNTABILITY, ILL TAKE IT OVER AND AGAIN. BECAUSE GROWTH IS THE ONLY GAME WHERE WE SHOULD TRY TO WIN. I HAVE SO MUCH CONCERN FOR THE EXAMPLE YOU ARE GIVING AND MY HEART BREAKS FOR THE CONFUSION IN WHICH WE’VE BEEN LIVING. PERHAPS ONLY I AM THE ONE WHO FEELS THE SADNESS AND LONGING, OR PERHAPS IT IS ONLY LOVE THAT I WISH IN BELONGING.

SUCCESS COMES AFTER MASSIVE FAILURE REARS UP. BUT ONLY IF REFLECTION HAS BEEN OBSERVED THROUGH THE EYES OF AWAKENING LOVE

This is the face.

This is the face of love. Each time my heart is touched by love it is etched in my soul. It creates a path of proof through the smile’s lines of love’s joy and laughter. Then wanders through the brow’s furrow of love’s wonder. It penetrates the pores pouring from love’s pain. Love looks like this.

This is the face of desperation. Pleading for the pain to process and bring peace. Begging for release from the bindings and shackles of shame from continually feeling this way. Bargaining no more, but blinded by defeat. Desperation looks like this.

This is the face of hope. Recognizing that this is a moment of an awareness of raw experience and reality. Lit up briefly by the reflections of the tears sweet brilliance of beaded reckoning. Relinquishing the idea that I have to keep it festered and vested in the cavity my soul reveals as wounded. Hope looks like this.

This is the face of disgust. Putting too much sacred deliverance into a space already self filled. Giving with relentless effort to offer more just to prove worth to the takers who’ve passed on praise. Inflicting a self imposition and acknowledgement of misalignment. Self, not self. Disgust looks like this.

This is the face of bewilderment. Standing in a cleansed body state of muddled mind. Perceptions shifting and breathing brings only moments of mild mannered transitions. In disbelief with feeling of washed over and sharing poses more as imposition, overlooked and taken for granted. Bewilderment looks like this.

This is the face of strength. Grimace and regrouping, bawling and growing. Perseverance begins to permeate after repeated experience. Going in as a dove, coming out scorched dark, now a raven, yet continually still it flies. Rising to the challenge baffling the deliverer of discourse. Strength looks like this.

This is the face of grief. The sudden onset of not understanding that operations continue. Disbelief of lack of attentive heart compassing language and cognition. Wayside, left in wonder. Sad overcame by weight weighed by a judge of less caliber. Cast aside and left alone in the debris of dismantling. Grief looks like this.

Running joke

It’s not safe here anymore. Maybe it is safer. I feel stuck between loving myself and being a self hater. Traitorous to what is reality mostly because I am confused by the indiscrepancies of what I see or think is me. But who am I kidding? It’s me, I’m the joke running. Only fooling the messenger who is delivering the ammunition gunning my own self down, I’ve stitched a target in the threading of each gown that I wear, each item I put on, it’s just a matter of time, I’m not sure just how long it will take for me to be blamed for another mistake. Another settling down from the the shit I create. The things I make up in my mind. It comes cued in, right in time and in line with any hope that “I’m better” … in short that’s the descriptive head letter. Short hand expresses the energies lessened and the dread of resent is moreover presented.

Unprompted

It should be Pretty obvious, but still you stay oblivious, with your disposition sitting in ignorance, your aloof stature coming off as righteous. But it’s not. It just divides us. It pries the ties that try to keep us united and offers me the insight I need to evaluate the efforts from the undecided.

And deciding these realizations have been provided.They all seemed to be coinciding and practically implied that I am being denied the most profound happenings that bring me alive, offers me vitality. These are the most of upmost important expressions that are the genetic coding of my humanity. This is the way to offer interest of genuine connectivity. Yet your soul seeks out mine Inactively.

In the lack of action I see all the offered time for our connecting to align and reveal the divine purpose of hearts like yours and mine. I thought of this as intertwining with the grand design. Perhaps it’s not. Or perhaps it’s just one bit to combine into a book of truths we loosely bind.

Now bound together with a single thread, common to the past on a path we have to lightly tread. The destination is clear, it should be near, instead, I’m ridden in bed with an illness born from retaliation from what I expected. in my head, we are growth oriented and selfless love lead.

Leading me to feel an emotional haunt. An escaping of a hope that what moves me is also your want, wanting my passions to be on your list to flaunt, proving you crave more of me and use the tools and let our love create a new font. One that is read every chance the eyes have to seek to be closer, driven to know more, without prompt.

Again again

Guess what? I am grieving again… Again… Again… Again… was silently. The last four days. Grief. Again.

And I’ve been holding it into myself because let’s face it, who really cares?… Yeah I know that we all say that we care, because of course we do. But at the end of the day isn’t it just another emotion, again? Again?

This is not the kind of emotion that you can just not have… Yes you can work on triggers, you can work on breathing, you can work on a holding it and letting it be and acknowledging it,… But eventually it goes away, again. It’s not something that is “Dealt ” with the never to resurface. It does resurface, again. And sinks and rises again.

And I don’t think that people don’t care, because I know in their form of caring they do, we do. We all have our capacities. The closest people in my relationships don’t even ask me how my heart is doing in relation to the death of my daughter. It’s hard to want to go there for them… Again.

I think I have one friend who actually inquires about Archaea specifically. So I know at least one out of my hundreds of friends and even at that the closest people in my life… Someone cares. Which helps phase the day… Again.

But moreover I think the bitterness comes from within. Because the levels that grief touches are constantly surprising me. Over and over I find myself saying… “Am I still feeling this again?” “Am I really at this moment again”…

And again I find myself saying… “No one has ever been here before. Not even you. (to myself) No one has ever experienced this moment in time and space emotion heart and brain. I am the first to navigate this. People are welcome to be on or off my ship, but the captain I must remain, and feel all these waters out… And search for a stable ground. “. …again.