On the election

Have faith in your doubts but don't be afraid to see what you seem. A good question is the start of educatoin.

Life

I don't understand sometimes.
And that's ok.

With this I am lost.

As I beat myself up for neglecting to set the example of taking advantage of my right to vote,

I am lost.

As I judge those who fail to see clearly the vacuous Hitler-esque Donald Trump,

I am lost.

As I rage at America’s immediate satisfaction desiring attempts of drastic change  which leave chaos,

I am lost.

As much as I would rather lose half the time than have a dictatorship with someone I agree with,

I am lost.

As I cut my hair in an impulsive confusion,

I am lost.

As I struggle for a hopeful thought,

I ask,

Who do I want to be?

Presidential election 2016

Who do I want to be in this situation?

The Forgetting

The forgetting
Is difficult.
The remembering,
Worse.

I missed u last night
I missed u this morning.

I meditated

I no longer miss u.
I love u.

And thru
All the tears
And the sadness
And the pain
Comes the one thought
That can make me
Internally
Smile
Again:
I have loved.

So let me love you,
For being loved
Maybe I am filled full.
In loving,
I am
Fullfilled.

But i don't want
To Build
My life around u,
I want to
Include u
In the building
Of my life.

And whether u think
I am worthy...

I am worthy.

I am worthy of life
And all the good in it.

I am worthy of my friends
and their friendship.

I am worthy of a degree of happiness
That could only be referred to as
Sinful, in less enlightened times.

I am worthy of creativity
Sensitivity
Appreciation.

I am worthy of peace of mind,
Peace on earth,
Peace in the valley,
Peace in my recovery.

I am worthy of His presence in my life.

I am worthy of
My love.

The HS Struggle

Junior year. Fourth quarter. Third floor couches. I remember him walking by, and pausing. Always. He always saw me. Sometimes just a wave, a smile. But, more often, a longer interaction. When he asked a question, he actually wanted to know the answer.

“How are you?” my teacher asked.

“Fine.”

“In the movie, The Italian Job, ‘fine’ stands for freaked out, insecure, neurotic and emotional.”

I came from silence. I came from a place where things were left unsaid. Silence became my closest friend, my safety.

Last year, I responded to crisis like a hermit. I stood up at the LGBTQ school assembly with a “bisexual” pin. I never confronted my best friend about not supporting me. I let her talk me out of asking a girl to prom. I watched my crush get asked by someone else. I invited no one to my house while my parents fought. Rather than reaching out, I allowed my college-age brothers to distance themselves with work.

I could not speak. But I could write: so, the next day after much reflection, I gave the teacher my journal.

Although I may always have trouble disclosing my thoughts, I can always write them down. Now, my struggle to share does not prevent me from sitting in the crowded forum amongst a group of friends – sometimes, I’m the one telling the joke. Sometimes, I’m the center of attention.

A ten word story

If PRETTY isn't EVERYTHING, why can't I call you UGLY.

When life happens

When life happens, I see him-
A thin vapor
Steaming out of my finger tips
That reach forward,
That screams
Tearing the haze away.

When life happens, I see him-
Dancing in red lights
That screech like a dull knife on a China plate
Disappearing like that dead skunk under the house.

When life happens, I see him-
Tickling my thigh
Rubbing off green humidity
Mowed to shreds.

When life happens, I see him-
Towering up
Into a chain saw
That chops off an arm
and a branch
And the trunk
And the gnarled roots Pierce
Downward.