When I Have No Ideas For Putting Together The Thoughts That Need To Read Aloud By Others, I Like To Pretend

Dreaming of being a better human.

Love. A tiny little word, with an infinite amount of meanings. Good morning: I love you. How are you: I love you. I hope you have a great day: I love you. I see you are hurting: I love you. I thought this was funny, I need to show you: I love you. This reminded me of you: I love you. Love is in everything I say to you, when I can’t write: I love you.

I don't feel like ME anymore. If there ever was such a thing to begin with..

I believe in magic.

Not like the magic in fairytales, full of dragons and spells.

I believe in the magic of those small moments.

I believe in the magic of a dandelion growing in the crack of asphalt.

The moment between your inhale and my exhale.

Finding a constellation in the sea of millions of stars.

The way your eyes light up like a stormy sky.

The dew on the early morning grass.

Magic is what makes this world go ‘round.

I’m so thankful to be a part of these small magical moments.

I think you knew what you were doing this whole time. I hope I don’t get hurt in the end.

Humans are silly little things. They make up higher beings in their minds so that death doesn’t seem too scary in the end. It helps them go to sleep, dreaming that when they die they’ll have someplace else to go. Silly creatures they are, death is death. The end. Nothing comes after.

I want to be one of those normal people.

I know what you’re thinking, ‘there’s no such thing as normal.’

There are people out there though, that don’t hesitate to walk out the door to go to a store. There are people that don’t fantasize about death. There are people who don’t have trauma or flashbacks and nightmares about what others have done to them.

I want to be one of those people that wasn’t diagnosed with a major depressive disorder at 17.

I want to be one of those people that didn’t have to try several medications just for them all to fail.

I want to be one of those people that doesn’t have an anxiety disorder, and has a hard time just leaving the house.

I want to be one of those people that didn’t have to go to a therapist, just to add PTSD to the list of mental disorders.

I want to feel like a person again, instead of a number of things wrong with me, that affect my day to day life.

Please. Just let me be..

What are you most afraid of?

There’s always those phobias of snakes, spiders and bodies of water . Those are pretty rational. I know way too many people that are scared of those. Spiders are creepy with all their legs. Snakes are venomous. People drown everyday in lakes and oceans.

My fears are the feelings. Being helpless. Not being able to express my emotions the right way, or worse, expressing them and not having someone feel the same way. The fear of being lonely for the rest of my life.

I am helpless in a lot of ways. I make myself small in my own life and don’t express the emotions I need to, every day. I am alone and very lonely.

I’m afraid that I will live my entire life, not being true to myself. Having to live and not be who I really am. I’ve been doing it for almost thirty one years now. As a child, I lived to please my parents. As a young adult, I lived to please my friends. Now, an actual adult, I live to please my husband.

I am afraid that if I truly show everyone who I am, they will run away. Or, maybe I am the one who needs to run away. But the fear of leaving is too powerful.

Everyone has fears, that’s just human nature. Maybe what I am afraid of is just being human.

I am afraid of myself.

I remember the day I bought two yellow roses.

I went to your grave and placed the roses atop your gravestone. I sat beside you and talked about a few memories we had shared. I cried tears of joy because I knew you weren’t in pain anymore. The tears turned to sadness though. I asked to you please take care of the child I never got to meet. I think I may have said something about heaven. That’s where everyone believed you had went. You said you saw angels a few days before you passed on. I would never speak ill about you, but I think that’s delusional. I truly hope you are somewhere better though, holding hands and teaching my baby to fish. I see you in every cardinal that flies by me.

I’m far too cynical to believe in heaven; I would like to see again someday though.

I am a lament, the trees whisper into the breeze on a windy day. Full of sorrow and grief over my useless existence.