What We Fear

The undiscovered country from whose
Borne no traveler returns.

To fall into the dark pits of oblivion,
Is the only way to know.
To drown in the murky depths
Of the labyrinth,
Is the only way out.

Claustrophobic

I am the shrinking girl.

I fold myself over and over,

I shrug into unoccupied corners,

So as not to take up too much room.

I can feel myself wasting away,

Shrinking into nonexistence,

In order to fit into the smallest of spaces.

But it is getting harder for me to breathe, I cannot remember the last time I stretched my fingers as far as they can reach, I cannot remember the last time I did not feel claustrophobic.

 For not being able to handle small spaces,

 I sure shove myself into a lot of them.

All I needed,

Was some space of my own.

All I needed,

Was for you to say:

"You deserve to take up space".

Odd Delight

Strange is not what we aim for.
We aim instead,
To be strangely beautiful.

We imagine of the day,
Someone catches us
In our odd delight.

And falls in love.
But I have found,
Beneath the act of
Our differentness

We are all,
Quite tragically ordinary.

Yesterday I looked up at the sun and with one breath, blew it out. I watched as the light was slowly drawn away, as if being sucked through a straw. Before I knew it I was submerged into darkness, standing beneath a starless sky. I flashed out my phone and checked the time. 1 o' clock in the afternoon. I looked around without seeing anything, and all I could think was: "What have I done?" I found myself on my knees in the the middle of a black world, my fingers among the once visibly green blades of grass. I thought then of the story from the bible study days of my youth, about when God created... well, everything. "At first it was dark, and then... there was Light." I held my breath, waiting for something to change. For what? I don't know. For the light to come back, for God to strike me down for destroying his creation... I would have welcomed either. But instead I was left alone, in the silence, in the dark. It had only been a few minutes and was already maddening. I felt as if I were dead, but also felt very much alive. I felt as if I was surrounded by millions, but also felt very much alone. The silence was deafening, as I tried to figure out how all of this could be. But I was in the dark.

Storytime

Tell me a story.
Tell me the story about why leaves fall from their trees like they're falling in love with the ground.
Tell me the story about how the ocean kisses the shore, no matter how many times it is sent away.
Tell me the story about how the sun loved the moon so much he died every night to let her breathe.
Tell me a story about true love, so I no longer doubt its existence in reality.

Stand Up

Stand up for what you believe in.

Stand up for who you are.

Put hope into your dreams,

They will take you far.

Stand up for the girl, who sits alone,

Who cries herself to sleep at night.

Stand up for her little brother.

Who tries not to hear their parents fight.

Stand up for those who are weak,

For the girl without a voice.

Who listens and says nothing,

Because she has no other choice.

Stand up for the girl in pain,

From all the harsh names.

Because of where she comes from,

And all the false claims.

Stand up for the boy,

Who stares at a knife.

He wants it all to end,

He wants to take his life.

Stand up for the tired,

For those who’ve always ran.

Stand up for all of us,

Stand up, because you can.

Reality

I’m always struck by how real people are. 

They talk about Philly cheese steaks

And clutch their guitars like they are life-rafts 

And drink beer 

And mess up the words to your favorite songs (only slightly) 

And say things like, “Fuck, that’s not B-flat”. 

And I have have to confront the fact that they are people, living, cursing, cotton-t-shirt-and-faded-corduroy-wearing people,

Just like me. 

One of my favorite lines from F. Scott Fitzgerald is

“I want to know you moved and breathed in the same world with me”,

Because to me it means I want to know that you are real 

And that we are much more similar than we are different.

That’s scary. 

And disillusioning. 

And wonderful.