writingsofalyricalheart

[writingsofalyricalheart]

Wringing my hands with worry

There’s only so much I can do

Only so much sleep I can lose

Only so many questions I can ask

Trying to hold onto you

I know you love me

And I love you

But god I hope in the future

There’s room for me too

[writingsofalyricalheart]

— Jenny Slate, Little Weirds

[writingsofalyricalheart]

“I again dreamt of you in flowers…”

— Alexander Blok - Ante Lucem 

[writingsofalyricalheart]

May Sarton, The Journals of May Sarton, vol. I

[writingsofalyricalheart]

“Like Things Are Normal”—poem

~

I preorder a book for October

Like things are normal

I tone my hair with purple shampoo

To preserve the bleached color

I try to focus on what I did

2 weeks ago

When I felt excited

And normal

I plan out what I’ll do if I’m quarantined

I imagine completing projects

Feeling productive

Planning

For the future

As if I’m not terrified

Of what right now will do to it

I think of you

And how I adore being around you

And I worry about what’s next

I am not worried about the solidarity of our relationship

As I normally would be

Because right now

All I care about

Is making sure we have a future we can worry about relationships in

I am scared

And I am trying

I am watching Star Wars

And superhero movies

And movies about ordinary people becoming heroes

Showing they were always extraordinary

Because I’m in a time where I don’t know what to do

It makes me feel a little less helpless

A little more hopeful

And a little more prepared to fight as hard as I can

I am scared for others

For myself

Scared that normal will never be normal again

I am scared

Of how many lives it will take

Before it doesn’t

I am scared

I want to be rebellious

I want to be defiant

Because maybe then

Everything will be alright

I want

I have nothing else but to want

To hope

To dream

To be smart

And to believe

On my knees

I pray we’ll make it through

Whatever we’re promised

I hope it is more time

For me and you.

~

[writingsofalyricalheart]

[writingsofalyricalheart]

high school musical (2006) // midsommar (2019)

[writingsofalyricalheart]

Labels (journal entry)

I used to not get why people said they hated labels.

How I used to see it was, labels had the power to make you feel understood. They had the power to give you a sense of belonging, and give an answer to the endless search in discovering who we are.

The thing is, much like anything else in life, the excitement in the newness of something can only last for so long before it fades. Like discovering a new TV show. Or a new album. Or a new book. Or a new toy. Or a new makeup product. Or a new gadget. Or a new instrument. Or a new relationship. Or literally anything. Over time, the things we think will solve us will become as boring and futile as anything else in this world.

While the newness and excitement of things can help fill a need and distract for a while, it's shelf life is short.

(Which also raises the question of if we are bound to grow bored of things, will we always be chained to the want and search for something more, or is that human nature and more of a blessing to keep evolving and revolving? Question for another day I suppose.)

And I know, I know, that’s a very pessimistic take on things.

But it’s true.

Recently I’ve been chasing down the “now that I have money, let’s buy things to help make me feel whole" train, and it really doesn’t solve any of my problems. I live in a tiny room in my parents house, and while I love the life I’ve been provided, and am so thankful for it all, I feel so unaccomplished.

I'm reminded each time I buy something. It adds to the pile of "things I wish I had time for, and the kind of person I wis I could be for a little while, just to try it".

I look at my coworkers and see they are working hard towards goals that will produce fruit later on in time. They aren’t looking for temporary vices to fill them until they find what they’re searching for like I am.

I am so uncomfortable with the idea of sitting with my own self, my own failures, my own mistakes, glaring back in my face like a giant neon sign, blinking and pointing and taunting. It’s hard to look at after a while. The letters spell out who I’ve been, and I want to ask them to stop, but I’m not worthy of asking that.

I’ve made decisions about who I am recently. I’ve tried on new labels like a fashion trend. Leaned into things I’ve always felt but wanted to explore a bit. But it still doesn’t feel right. If I lean too much one way, I’m seen as one thing, and vice versa.

In the past two years, I’ve decided to start labeling myself as bisexual. At first, the label fit about how a size too big t-shirt would on a growing child. “I’ll grow into it, I’m sure”, I would tell myself. Well now I’m into it, and I have an entire friend group who not only knows about it, not only supports it, but feels the same way, and I feel trapped.

I’ve always leaned towards dating guys on the spectrum, but I’ve also absolutely felt things for girls as well. Not always in the same way, either. My heart is the same at the core, but different traits behave differently around different genders, and it makes me question who I am.

Could I ever find a love, or a partner in this life, who could love the complete version of me? The one who’s heart is in all places at once? Is there a part of me I’ll be forced to tame, or a part I’ll need to choose over another in order to be with someone? Can I not be myself?

Am I better off single if I feel this way? I used to think yes. But even the Bible states “it is not good for man to be alone”.

I often wonder if I’m a good person.

For years I’ve gone in and out of churches wondering if I’ll ever be enough to be there. I know Christianity is based around forgiveness and love and letting go of the past, but I’ve always felt this pressure to keep up a certain level of perfection. Like if I’m washed clean, I must stay clean. And each time I falter, it’s another tally mark against me. And I know that’s not the salvation Christianity offers. It’s not something you can lose.

But if I’m dabbling in things even good Christians say is wrong, where does that leave me?

I’ve always been attracted to men, and women. I don’t know how or why. Men have been more socially acceptable, so I’ve leaned into it more. Women have not been, but more like a private, personal secret that I’ve been able to indulge in like a stash of secret candy in a locked away drawer, and only I’ve been holding the keys.

But now some people know. I worry if all know, they'll think I was lying to them. And I wasn't, I just wasn't sure until now. Or, wasn't sure it was alright to feel this way until now.

When I came out to my friends, I did it because I was sick of being shoved in boxes. I was sick of being told I’d find my fairytale ending, as they imagined, not me. If I only worked hard enough for a Christ centered marriage, if I only read my bible and studied the word I’d fall more in love with Jesus, if I only served more, etc.

And just like that, the very place I’d found solitude in, became a contest for how good of a Christian I can be. Like the only successes worth celebrating were if I were “on fire for the Lord”. But I still have a personality, you know? I’m still me.

I’ve had friends recently ask me if I wanted to join their church, and honestly all of it feels like a club where I’ll never measure up if I’m known, and though I want to feel whole, I’ve felt more accepted in a friends basement drinking and playing games and talking about poetry than I have in a bible study. Maybe Jesus accepts me, but I’m not squeaky clean enough to sit quietly in a church function and behave like a “good Christian girl”.

I do believe in God, but I don't believe in holding your breath to love a person; I don't believe in waiting until they are enough like you to be there for them. And oddly enough, I've seen a lot of that, and I don't like it.

I’ve got a mouth like a sailor sometimes (a lot of the time), I make dirty jokes (honestly sometimes) and puns (my friends like them, and I like making them laugh), and I feel like if I can at least let all of that out and let my guards down, the real me will have a chance to take a step outside and relax. Mind you, what’s at my core are not completely these things. These are social things I’ve learned to make friends and get along, and express who I am. They're my reflection, pieces of my heart, but not the full spectrum.

Who I am is both sensitive and loving, and also passionate as fuck. I don’t always have all the facts. I don’t always know everything about everything. Sometimes I fight vigorously without knowing the full reason why except I know by some feeling deep inside me that it’s right, whatever it may be. Logic and boxes drive me crazy, as I spill out of them constantly.

It’s like trying to control a volcano. You never will. My heart is full and I am ready. I don’t aim to harm, I aim to improve and fix things. Shake people out of comfort zones into the unknown, but into the possibility of a better future and existence, individually and as a whole.

That is who I am. This is who I am.

I’ve had a million different people give me titles to hold on to, to hold up picket signs for, to scream and claw my way out of traditional rules and boundaries for.

But it’s not who I am. I know what I believe when it’s tested. I don’t always flaunt it or flex it, but I know it. It’s not always explainable, or easy to remember/make a bullet point list of. But when it’s threatened, when it's time, you’ll know.

Labels can help you feel like the puzzle pieces life has given each of us have images, like they have a face. They can help us understand where we belong to ourselves and in the greater picture. But sometimes the laundry list of expectations and stereotypes associated with the labels we hope will help us feel more understood are too much to bear.

Who can stand a weight that heavy on their shoulders?

So though I know who I am and how I’d like to label myself, sometimes I’d rather be nothing because I want to be seen as I truly am, not a boulevard of light up signs screaming for your attention. I’d rather be a small coffee shop hidden amongst the chaos and madness (and I’ve used this metaphor before, but I like it a lot) run by a nice old lady who is equal parts caring and passionate, who sweeps her shop to pass the time, humming and twirling along like Rose did in Sleeping Beauty (the Disney movie adaption, not the grim Brothers version), but would also beat you with her broom if you threatened her plane of existence, including anyone she loves and cares for.

I want to sweep the corners of my mind free of any complicated tasks that have been given to me by people who are trying to solve me like a riddle. Maybe sometimes we don’t need to solve each other, but just fucking accept it. Maybe I wonder and worry and feel selfish often for choosing to be the person I am. But I hope the people dearest and nearest to me can see my soul is a well full of life, and sometimes the water gets poisoned by pain and hurt and anger, but I’m trying to keep my surrounding gardens well and thriving as best as I can. I want to be a wild, untamed garden, who is also deeply cared for.

As we all do, I want to be loved.

All I want and have ever wanted is to be loved.

---------

-Samiiiiiiiiiiii 💖

[writingsofalyricalheart]

Letters (poem)

It’s no secret how I feel about you

Except maybe to you

I fill pages and spaces and rooms with the kind of emotions that could weight you down if you’re not properly anchored to the surface

I make plans for grandiose gestures of affection

That I never follow through on

I wonder if you and I are cut from the same cloth

Or if I mistook materials for baggage

I speak in codes

I leave treasure maps riddled in them all over town

I forget you don’t know the language I write in

So I write in one you do know

At least I hope

I’ve rewritten the letter about a thousand times

Different parts rearranged, as if the arrangement will affect if it moves you

I try so hard, and I wonder what for

I fill galleries with notes, tears, feelings, memories

The exhibit begins with your name

I hope as you progress through it will end with mine

But maybe

Just maybe

Your child’s mind hasn’t lifted

Everyone else can see what this is about

And somehow you never do.

[writingsofalyricalheart]

No offence but straddling someone is one of the hottest things to exist

[writingsofalyricalheart]

Eyelashes fall like snow (poem)

I look up at myself in the mirror as I’m washing my hands

And I see an eyelash

Delicately balancing on the others,

one blink away from falling

I think to myself “i have to make a wish before it falls”

One blink later and it’s gone

So I wish for you very quickly

Hoping it hasn’t hit the suds and bubbles yet

I wake up in the morning and rub my eyes

Only to find

It has snowed overnight

And it will be impossible to drive today

So I pray for you

For your safety

/

If I could see all the eyelashes that live on my bedroom floor

All the used up wishes

All the spells and magic

All the times I’ve wished for you

And all the times in between

When I’ve wished for my own happiness

My own sanity

My own self worth

All of the spells that turned into prayers

Sometimes fallen, watery, "will I ever stop leaking sadness?" kind

All of the dead hairs that have fallen and probably mean nothing

Would it cover the ground like the snow outside?

/

I wonder if you knew about all the small

Practical wishes

And prayers

I make throughout the day

Would you try to convince me it’s not real?

Would you attempt to feel and believe through my eyes?

Are you able to do that?

Would the very fabric of my hopeful thoughts which wrap me in light and bring me comfort when I don’t have anything else unravel

At the hands of those who don’t know how to imagine or understand?

/

If beauty is in the eye of the beholder

Then magic is in the mind of the believer

And even if it takes forever

I believe in this kind of magic

[writingsofalyricalheart]

yall can make fun of slam poems all you want but I’ve never felt more powerful than listening to women yell about their trauma to strangers

[writingsofalyricalheart]

[writingsofalyricalheart]

me ? a romantic ? mayhaps . hopeless ? exhaustively

[writingsofalyricalheart]

It’s raining in the gardens (poem)

It’s raining in the gardens again


I gaze up at the small droplets as they fall


And I look back down at the polka dot patterns they make on the path in front of me


Sunshine was around just long enough


To sit in awe of the beauty of the foliage that surrounds


I don’t desire to leave


For I love the rain


But the painting in front of me does not feel the same


So I pack up my things


Make my way back though the gardens


Past the babbling brook that speaks its way into a fall


Back through the winding road where I imagine lovers walk with fingers intertwined


Winding back the illusion of escape
Back into reality


Into the indoors that I already know
To be safe


But to dream


And to imagine what could be


From afar


Though the rain is my comfort


And the thunder is my home


Though the lightning is my passion


And the clouds touch my soul


I will dream of both


Sunshine and storms


And somehow hiding in both


Makes me feel less alone



[writingsofalyricalheart]

May 31, 2018

I have never been made of pure sunshine, despite what I show externally.

I’ve always been made of depth, and complications, and emotions, and yes, some of those emotions reflect the sun

Because I can feel the warmth and relate to certain parts

But I am most often like a thunderstorm

Sometimes cold

Sometimes warm

Sometimes chaotic

Sometimes soothing

Sometimes sad

Sometimes I feel the beauty

But never stationary

So if I’m ever raining on your parade

Please remember I don’t mean to

And could you maybe see what I bring to the table as valuable?

And not just a dark cloud that needs to lighten up?

Maybe, you, the sun, are drawn to me and I to you because we balance each other out

So maybe

Let’s quit trying to change each other

And try to learn from one another.

[writingsofalyricalheart]

lovely/lonely (poem)

I am unable to see clearly until I speak with you

You with your kind words

And comforting tone

And reliability

You with your loyal heart

When I’m not always loyal (or logical) times myself

You with your heart on your sleeve

Unafraid and unashamed to be who you are

You who reminds me to be brave

When really I’d love to be brave!

...right after I’ve had time to hide under my silence and shyness and fall apart

You help bring clarity to my vision

A settled rain calming down dust and ashes

A gentle peace I couldn’t create myself

At least, not in that moment

You who brings no judgement or embarrassment to my not recently practiced skills, or lack there of

See I need you

But I can’t tell you I need you

Because I can’t be one of

“those girls”

The ones who beg and plead for validation

The ones who liberate their feelings in trade of being a prisoner to neediness

The ones who don’t take their mothers advice about social status

But the truth remains

That tonight

I really need you

To be completely encaptured in a hug as I bear my soul

To let tears fall like a rainstorm

Wetting the barren ground below

Allowing the grass to become green and the flowers to bloom

I need you more than I can bear

Like a mighty ocean wave crashing inside of a tiny glass bottle

Begging, pleading, threatening to break open

But I refuse

Because if I need you this once

If I ever need you again

In a smaller way

In a bigger way

In any way

Will I become one of “those girls” to you?

Will you still be there?

Or will I wash you away with the tide

Drifting far out to sea

Beat up and worn out

Unable to hold on with me

Never to be seen again?

Time will only tell

And so for now I hold my breath and internalize the sharp, bitter pains

I’ll cry to myself late at night

Under blankets

I’ll cry at various unrelated videos

I’ll cry when I try to smile at a dog that passes by

Everything that makes my heart feel joy

Will be replaced with ache

And I’ll wonder where you are tonight

And I’ll carry on

Carry myself

Alone.