I am a stressed-out college student that writes anything and everything that comes to my mind. I will be posting my own poems, short stories, and maybe a couple of traditional journal entries as well. Maybe some art too if I’m feeling crazy. I hope you enjoy what you read! I will be posting regularly(and by regularly I mean whenever I write something new, so basically I have no idea when I’ll be posting), and try to typically write a variety of genres. If you really like what you see, you can feel free to subscribe so that you can get notified every time I post something new. Have a great day!
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I have been told that I do not attempt to process emotions
Unless they are standing directly in front of me
I process sadness, anger, frustration, loneliness
But what about guilt?
I went through a whole spiritual awakening recently
I was sitting on a bus
And suddenly felt this extreme feeling of gratitude and joy
Like I had never felt before
I like to think that I’ve changed
But I can’t stop thinking of this thing I did a month ago
I tell myself that I no longer care
I go with the flow, let things be, it is out of my hands
I did something hypocritical
I gave definitive proof that I do still care
Guilt forms small bubbles in the back of my head
Yet needles are just too expensive
There is no confession to give
I did not do something terrible, it is not something laced with anger
But I still denied the quota, I still stuck my hand in the jar
I still looked for definitive proof that I would get what I wanted
I am okay with and I am okay without
I say that and for the first time I mean it
But how do I deal with the feeling of knowing that
There was a period where that wasn’t true?
I am afraid that I care
I don’t stalk, I don’t follow, I don’t discuss, I don’t write poems
But after all this time
This is the fingerprint left at the crime scene
I have always been a control freak
I fear the unknown and get angry when I spill my drink
How do I get rid of the knowing that something is about to happen
And, despite all, continue to give my glass of hope to the sky?
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I am my mother’s daughter
My closest friends call me emotional
When I have a crush, it can never just be a “crush”
Suddenly, they are me
I cannot simply “like” someone
I love them with all mind body and soul
Their accomplishments are mine
Their defeats are mine as well
When they are angry, I am angrier
I am my mother’s daughter
The kids in my elementary school used to call me a robot
I am quiet in my fury
Poison is quiet. Disease is quiet.
When I am screamed at like a dog for my disobedience
I stand there expressionless
When I am ruthlessly insulted and laughed at
I do not move
My brain and my body will feel so slow
That I can no longer tell if I am still breathing
For the fear that a singular flinch
Will ruin all the neutrality that I have worked for
I am my mother’s daughter
I cannot bare the horrors of being alone
Everyone always speaks about this concept
Of a Social battery
Talking about how draining it is to be with others for so long
Of how nice it is to be in solitude, relaxing
But that does not compare to the horrors of living with your thoughts
Of having to spend hours every night trying to avoid
reminiscing on what you’ve done
On how you have done everything wrong
And your hands were built to never accomplish a single task
It is impossible to relax for even a single second alone
When your own brain and body is another person’s entirely
I am my mother’s daughter
I will spend my entire life begging and screaming for worth
Pleading for what I’m not even entirely sure that I deserve
Just to prove something, anything
To prove that I am worth more than my incompetence as a child
To prove that I can break the generational curse of the women in my family
Being in a joyless and disappointing life, with my only hope being my own daughter
I am my father’s daughter
My fury and vengeance can be seen from miles away
When I am angry I scream, I throw, I yell, I insult
I am the cruel dictator, the monster under your bed,
I boil up inside and out till I am unrecognizable
From the person that you once knew and loved
Yet, I forgive
I forgive the world for what has happened to me
I forgive my cousin brothers and sisters for how ill they have treated me
I forgive my friends for the horrible things that they have said behind my back
For the hope that things will go back to the way it was
I forgive my mother and ignore the way she treats my wife
In the hopes that she will finally give me the love that I begged for as a child
I forgive my father for leaving when I needed him the most
I forgive my daughter for always being distant from me,
though I do not understand why she is in the first place
I am my parents’ daughter
I am built in emotion and fury
When I love, my entire body is consumed by it
till I am choking
Holding on to my neck desperately,
grasping for something
That is not there
When I hate
I scream, I cry, I yell, I gasp for breath as my tears build-up
Like a tsunami, throwing all that I love into it until I am
alone
I am my parents’ daughter.
I forgive you.
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you don’t know it
but i deem you as
my little ladybug
a small thing to protect
that brings luck in
the most innocent of ways
the hidden trick up my sleeve
who’s every touch feels
as if i am being given a kiss
that can heal even the most
brutal of wounds
as you crawl up my arm
even the harshest of storms
and darkest of clouds
may feel like the fierce hug
of a most-nurturing lover
you do not know this
but the day before we first
laid eyes on each other
a tiny red ladybug caught my view
and brought forth the luck
of your presence
and now everytime we speak
the day before
a ladybug always
comes out of the light
and lands next to me
to inform me of what is to come
and let me know
that all will be alright
and now as i sit here
i ponder whether the day
before we miraculously
cross paths once again
it will be due to the luck
of that very first tiny red ladybug
that caught my eye that april evening
deciding to come and see me
one last lucky time