Just got diagnosed with "you dont know who the fuck you are" disorder.
Dont really know where to go from here. \
I can see the little me aching. The one who wants her childhood back. The one that the very cold sea swept away.
The one you find so beautiful.
Home is where the traumas took place.
Doesn't that feel right? Maybe that's why I have so much stuff.
I want to spread it like confetti
Driving away from the burning wreck
Arm out the window
Leaving traces that I was here and I stood and collected and saved and thought and did and said.
keeping things for others to look at and remember me by
Without my body. Without my presence. These objects could be anywhere else.
But by some whimsical amalgamation of moments. They are here. Together. Creating a picture that is so pretty. One that/ without the other is always something new.
Not better or worse
Just different.
Transformed
Yet again
By pure memento
By keeping something sacred.
By keeping something.
I want to be kept like that.
Brought out like fine china.
Polished and displayed.
Beloved and seen and cared for.
Handled with such a soft touch.
...Barely a whisper.
Water has always loved me.
And hurt me.
how can I be so petrified
And still want to love so badly.
I throw myself in the water,
hoping it doesn't throw me back out again,
knowing both
The gentle float and the desperate crash.
And still going in again. Despite the odds
Sit and wait
be still and see what happens
Let the wheel spin.
God it's painful but I didn't know I could feel so much better.
Comments