Tag: life

Poetry

The Artist

he is the master of refining
and blurring the lines
he really does think
if he can add enough layers
maybe he can cover up
the person she used to be
smooth the edges
tune out her intuition

but he can’t hide messages
shes already seen
or delete the other girls
that came clean
and i still wonder if shes waiting
for me to make a scene
to tell her all the things
that he also did to me

wouldnt that be convenient
if i fit the narrative
instead of learning from it

but while the artist works
to fill the cracks in his conscience
with likely stories,
he shades the women of his past
and takes the glory
take a look at all their trophies

because there is happiness after him
you cannot shed his layers
but the artist doesnt own the rights to his masterpiece

– stop giving him permission to alter you

A.

Poetry

Bye Bitch

theres no fucking way i was ever going to wait around while you chased a truth that you made up in your head. you can idealize every piece of trash that floats through your life as a message from god- but its fucking not and you dont get to waft in and out of everyones lives just because you think youre following moses across the red sea. youre just running. and drowning and i cant fucking save you if you think youre flying.
-he was trash, and so was the guy before him

prose

Horoscopes and Karma

The universe speaks to me so clearly that I often confuse the messages with karma. All the good gets countered with the bad and it just turns into a big, messy tug-of-war with my happiness. Messages don’t have to be decoded. You don’t have to read them with your horoscope and make charts and graphs to react. Your first impulse is often the best one to act on. But never be motivated by the negative. Accept your responsibilities, not the fate. Nothing is written in the stars unless you put it there. They are only stars. Sometimes they’re just waiting for you to draw the lines.

Poetry

Amen

Dear God,
you are a fire
a small, flickering ember
but that ember lights a forest
and a few houses
that surround it

Dear God,
youre fuckin cold
ice blackened on the road
youre the screams
as the car rolls

Dear God,
youre the flatline
while everybodies shaking
looking up and waiting
folding hands and praying

Dear God,
forgive me
for i have sinned
but you created this
why dont you let it end?

why would you mold
the whole world
and tell me i cant live
make me say your name
is it a fetish or a game?

A.

Poetry

Unaccountable

a generation crying about their rights

to their gender

to their guns

to their fancy new emulsion blender

calls on followers to rise together

from their silence

their desk job

and a keyboard built for violence

but the camera lens is too dirty

with a blurring filter

and a heart emoji

and we’re all too high and mighty blind to see them wither

A.

prose

The World

Do not give them the world.

Not when they are 2, begging for that toy on the television.

Not when they are 12, asking for money to see a new movie in theaters.

Not when they are 18, asking you to pay their tuition.

Do not give them the world.

The world wasn’t meant to be carried on small shoulders.

It wasnt designed to be held in the palm of your hand.

The darkest days are supposed to be shared in the company of loving shoulders to cry on.

The beauty belongs to everyone.

Do not give them the world.

Help them see it and love it.

Help them recognize the danger in its beauty.

Help them earn its trust and its good karma.

But please…

Do not give them the world.

A.

life, prose

Parkinson’s

He is old. Shaking his finger at the credit card keypad, like he is scolding it for not remembering his pin.

My son is young. Twisting in the cart, his face is sour- “I want you to GO, Mommy.”

invalid entry

“Be patient.”

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“Can’t you just GO?!”

invalid entry

“No baby, we have to wait our turn.”

invalid entry

“MOMMY!”

invalid entry

“I need you to have empathy, please.”

…

transaction approved

Teach your children big words. They will surprise you. I promise.

A.

life, Pregnancy, prose

True Entitlement

Spoiler Alert: It’s not generational.

 

I get so tired of hearing shit like, “well, I didn’t know her husband was hitting her-” or “he didn’t act suicidal” whenever bad things happen to the ones we love. I’m even more exhausted of the retort- “well, how did you KNOW THEY WERE REALLY HAPPY? Why didn’t you physically implant a tracking device into your friends’ asshole until you were certain?!”

Ok. Maybe people don’t really say that last part. But it’s increasingly apparent to me that the only time these dialogues take the stage is when something doesn’t go as planned. This is what true entitlement is. It’s not a millennial thing.

It’s a social thing. Entitlement is a learned behavior that is caused by watching billions of people over share tiny pieces of their lives through social mediums. This isn’t a conspiracy. I’m not going to site Michael Moore here. This is how we, as a culture, forgot how to see with our eyes. This is how the majority of a population became so distracted by filters that they evolved to see things more pleasantly than reality ever intended. The bottom line is that we are not entitled to the most intimate details of someone’s life. You do not get to use someone’s instagram account to justify when good/bad things happen to them.

I recently stepped away from social media. Not entirely, I’m not a living in my basement with the lights off- don’t worry. I didn’t delete all of my accounts. I didn’t stop checking in on my friends. But regardless, I still felt the break was necessary. I suffer from a disorder that you might be familiar with- it doesn’t have a name, to my knowledge. However, it’s characterized by feelings of frustration that are often triggered by people who overshare stupid details of their lives that I don’t give a fuck about. Let me know if you think of a word for that kind of thing.

(I say this ironically, of course, because I’m nearing the 1 year anniversary of my blog- ya know, where I share intimate ideas and details of my life with people I don’t even know. But even here, you will not find me sharing details so intimate that they would be better reported to a therapist. I digress.)

The reason for my stepping away from social media is quite simple. I do not feel compelled to share my life right now. It’s partially because I’m pregnant and I am enjoying the last few months of privacy before I have none. But it is also because I find life difficult to focus on when I’m preoccupied with the happenings of others.

I don’t believe in much, but I believe in myself. It’s hard to believe in myself when I’m focused on everyone else. A friend recently opened up to me about their difficulty being “present” in their life. I can see this exact issue in myself, whether it’s because I’m messing around on facebook, distracted with housework, planning a family trip- I’m never exactly where I say I am. I’m trying this new thing where I don’t let funny memes distract me from the importance of the moment I’m living in. I’m going to continue my absence online in hopes that I can become more present in life. I hope this means that I will be writing more, but I also hope this means I’m away from my desk more.

A.

 

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prose

Mental Illness

It is not your obligation- as a friend, lover, sister, or mother- to fix them. No healthy relationship will ever require you to drain yourself completely of happiness. Don’t ever empty your cup into someone else’s, just because theirs has a crack in it.

A.