The world doesn’t revolve around you.

I can’t even look at your face

Without wanting to say things I’ve never wanted to say

Just need to get out of this place

What used to bring me comfort now just makes me feel ashamed

Wish I could make everything okay

But if you wish me dead like you just said, I dont think there’s a way.

Tears streaming down my face, messing up the fucking makeup that takes too long to put in place. A disgrace , that’s me, screaming in your face. The one you wish you could replace, who never knows what to say, the one you wish would go away, but whom you can’t seem to escape.

I’m sorry, I know it means nothing. I wish there was something

I could say; I’m wrong, entirely, You deserve better, go get her. Or

Fuck you and your feelings. That’s that.

But how wrong would that be? To give up so easily, end everything early, prematurely…

If all of a sudden I was gone for good, would THAT ruin your day???


A World Without God

Don’t do it. Just don’t do it to yourself today. Don’t look for him in pictures you posted months ago. Don’t recall tiny specific moments where you know he felt something for you, too. Don’t go back out and call his name, he can’t hear you. He isn’t coming back, and there’s nothing in the world you can do about it.

Sometimes we lose the ones we love without knowing why or how it even happened. I can’t tell if that’s more or less painful than knowing every last and final detail.

Sometimes we ask why and all there is is silence where reassuring voices normally would chime in. Saying “Everything happens for a reason” makes me want to punch you square in your face. What reason is there for the way of the world today? Are we supposed to evolve and change and grow and unite as a people or are we supposed to fight and argue and prove each other wrong or right or left or right? Gay or straight? Boy or girl? Zim or zer? Sin or saint? You or me?

My voice is stifled but still I speak. The words are jumbled, but still I read. This information highway is full of roadkill and fatal accidents. Those who get chewed up and spit out, run over and stomped on. Those who get too comfortable or too fake or too friendly. Those who want nothing more than to help people, but end up hurting them in the process.

Shit happens mostly because people make shit happen. But yeah, sometimes it’s beyond our control. What do we reach for then? For some it’s drugs or alcohol. Numbness. Nothingness. For others it’s making others feel even worse and more crazy than they do. And for a lucky few it’s faith. Faith in something greater, more incredible, more colossal than anything. Something that never faulters. Something that 7billion people could lean on.

I don’t like saying God. The universe is more my pace. But to me, God and the Universe are one in the same. He is in the stars in the sky and the wind in the trees. He is in the blackness of night and the warmth of the sun. He is there when you wake up and there when you close your eyes to sleep. Just there, below your eyelids he waits, to wake you with sunshine and roses, if only you’ll let him.

The love you feel for your life, family, the world. That’s him, too. He is everything and anything you’ve ever dreamed or experienced. Without him, without the universe, there’s not even nothing, because that would be something. There’s no explanation for a world without God, because a world without God does not exist.


Your addiction is like being stuck in an under tow. Grasping for anything to pull yourself up and out of the dark, cold abyss below. But every time you reach out, you get pulled further and further down. You fight the urge to breathe … The very action that keeps you alive otherwise. But not here, not underneath in this alien world; immersed in it, where you do not belong. But it’s where you put yourself, where you ended up when you first thought you’d just dip your toes in, just once more. And then you fell right in again, just like every time before.  Questions float about while you flail and flounder. “How did I get here? What was I thinking? Can anyone even help me now?” You’re sinking, deeper and darker, so far from the surface that you can barely see the light. You finally stop flailing and hit rock bottom. But are you going to give up and let the water fill your lungs? Or are you going to take every ounce of anything you have left in you and push off of that rock bottom and fight your way back to the surface? Back to the light? Little did you know you needed to drown, you needed to fall all the way down where no one could reach you, because only then would you have had the need and the strength to push yourself back up again and finally be able to breathe.

Nothing really…

For the first time in what feels like years I got a legitimate night’s sleep and am up at a decent hour not feeling like death. That is a major accomplishment for me. Usually I pass out around 3 or 4 and get woken up around 9 or 10 by my daughter. But last nite I went to bed around 10 and am up around 9 and it feels srsly splendid. If only I could do this every night. I might feel normal most of the time. Pretty sure my body is just still so used to being used and abused and not cared for and loved and it’s just gotta get used to this. It’s been a couple years since I was a full blown drug user 24/7 and my sleep is still pretty whack. But maybe this is the beginning of the end of that. I’m hoping! I want to leave the pain and whackness in the past and start anew. Today I’m gonna get a fucking tanning package and no one can stop me. I might even get my nails did. Fake it up a little. Chuknow. These things are exciting for females. Getting a tan is like going from a 5 to a 7 and nails put u up about .5. Booyahhhhhhh bitches. Lmao. Jk.

Random Rhymes.

I just want to go quiet. I just want to fucking scream. But I can’t, I swore I wouldn’t. Sometimes it all feels just like a bad dream. I still have these feelings–worth fighting for but why? Haven’t they dissipated with all of the strife? No. Each time you felt like you’d go grab the knife? No. Carve my heart out all precise and nice? Damn. I offered everyone and their mother a slice. Gave away my essential organs without a price. Laid there and bled to death while everyone played nice. Stained your picture perfect outlook, maybe made you think twice. Still tried not to make a sound so not to disturb your life.

I gave my heart away and now there’s nothing left to hold. Finally put my finger on why I always feel so cold. Shivering the days away thinking on tomorrow. Wonder if we’ll ever actually escape the pain and sorrow.

Some pieces of my heart are dead and buried in the dirt. Better off that way they stay, unable to be hurt. Of course when they went away I cried a thousand tears. Losing any part of your heart will leave a scar for years and years.

You’re the love of my life, the man of my dreams, any time you’re away it’s your presence that I fiend. But your heart is broken up just like mine, worse even, smaller pieces, smashed up tiny and fine. Someone broke you up inside and it doesn’t matter who. I’ll always hold your heart together, no matter what I do. 💚💔💚

My justification. Hahahah

“Oh my God you posted some half naked pictures on Instagram?! WTF??”

First of all I’m 30 years old okay I barely have time left to look semi good so like if I wanna flaunt my skinny ass self a little bit in a risque picture or two that’s my business ok?

“Oh wah you’re 30 years old you’re an adult WTF you should be doing adult things.” Yeah I’m an adult in 2018 when everybody and their mother takes pictures of everything including themselves all the time. I don’t think a sexy picture makes me a ho, does it? A little narcissistic Maybe ? Sure, I’ll admit that. I mean I guess that is partially why I’m writing this, haha. Also a product of growing up in this day and age.

I have gone to delete them several times and failed at doing so. I like them, but I feel a little bit exposed. What is that all about? Why do we do these things? What was I thinking? Are things that were running through my head and still are.

A lot of people want to think and say it’s about validation and self-esteem. I really don’t think it is. At least not with me. I do it because I like the pictures and I think other people will too. I do it because sometimes I do like myself and I really don’t think there should be anything wrong with that. There’s a difference between being confident and being conceited. I look like a freak most of the time. And I own that too. The older I’ve gotten I’ve learned you kind of have to in order to get by. And it’s not like my non existent boobs were out or anything else it was half of my butt okay?! Lol.

I encourage you to take as many sexy selfies as you want and post them at your discretion because you’re only young once. Why not? Don’t let anyone tell you that you are wrong for doing so because that’s b.s. when you feel beautiful selfie it up. 10 years from now you’ll look back and say, “Damn girl. You had it going on. And you still effing do.”

And you always will. 🙂

Tangible Moments

Why do I go on my instagram or fb and look at the same pictures I’ve posted recently, or over the years– over and over again? Sometimes I scroll back reallllly far and click on every other picture just to remember the exact moment, how I felt, and where I was at that point in my life.

Now that I have a gorgeous sprouting child it’s even more wild. First, looking at pictures and remembering those times I had before she came. I had a lot of fun. A lot of pain. A few too many bad decisions/experienced a lot of bad shit due to those decisions. But we learn from those. “Stars can’t shine w/o darkness.” Ok that quote has been overused by now but you get my drift.

And then the pictures of her very first birthday (the day she was born on) and the few days/weeks after. I still cry at those. Her milestones, how her smile has evolved from too cute and toothless to adorably gapped and then finally a gorgeous full set of baby pearly whites. That she can now form full sentences with and talk back and share her opinion. Lawd.

All I know is she best not need braces like me. My teeth were, to put it lightly, jacked the fuck up before I had braces. And spacers. And tighteners. And retainers. The works. Which worked. Good thing the internet was in it’s own toddler stage then or else there’d probably be tons of embarrasing pics of myself to look back on from when I had braces. AND HEAD GEAR. Only had to wear it at night tho thank gawd.

Anyways the point is I need to print out all of these wonderful moments and put them in an album and keep them forever and ever and ever.

I mean, when houses burn down, what’s the first thing (after all living breathing creatures are successfully evacuated) a mother goes to grab to try to save? Family pictures. That analogy was used in a movie once I think. Anyways. The importance of pictures. Actual, tangible, hold-in-your-hands or maybe even frame them, pictures.

And of course it is so much more than that. It’s the moments we’re clinging to, really. The past. It made us and everyone says don’t ever look back but sometimes I look over my shoulder and remember the good times, and I smile. Or I accidentally delve into a bad one, and have to remind myself how far I’ve come. Nostalgia is funny that way. It can make you smile or cry or both at once and you can barely ever decipher where the thought even came from. Probably a picture. 📷💜