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I feel like I should say something, though I don’t know what it would be. Let’s find out together, shall we?

I’m happy, but I’m tired.

…

I have to dam the clear, sweet water that threatens to pour so easily.

I want to let it stream.

As my heart flutters, races, and pounds, I want to let the flood overtake me. I want it to carry me swiftly between the rocks, under limbs, past all the creatures living their lives.

I want it to slow and allow me to float, watching the sky, making stories of the clouds and the birds flying by.

I want to let it flow.

But it must be held back, for it was once laced with poison. It cannot be trusted so easily. It would only block their way.

I alone may witness its sparkling beauty. I alone may witness its growth. I must be the one to take responsibility – for what it was, what it is, and what it ever will be.

Sometimes I feel disheartened. Sometimes I feel sore.

But I will not waver.

Even if the time never comes to set it free,

I will not stray…

It is too important to me.

Hidden Angels

When I was a kid, I had a neighbor who didn’t speak English. Her family members did, and I knew them fairly well, but she and I had no language shared. Still, on my way home from school, she would stop me and invite me inside. She was often the only one home, and I would just sit at the kitchen table as she cooked me something wonderful. I didn’t always know what she had made, but I always ate it, always enjoyed it, and she always smiled so beautifully as I did. Then I’d thank her and be on my way.

Looking back, I wonder.. did she know I was starved at home? Did she know I felt alone, unloved? Did she know that she was a blessing for this broken, pitiful little girl?

Her own grandchildren were terrible, rude, and inconsiderate. They had some level of respect for her, but when visiting, would hit, belittle, and swear at their father and aunt. We were friends, but it was that kind of friendship you had when you were thrown together because you were the same age and your parents knew each other. I felt sorry for their family – Their sweet aunt, a slightly crazy caretaker who would stop me on the street to tell me I was beautiful, like a porcelain doll, their kind father, a friendly, good-natured pushover, who had probably saved my life a handful of times,, and that wonderful grandmother.

Did she know? Did her daughter and son? Did any of them know that they were my angels, my saviors, as my own family neglected me, hated me, plotted my death? Did any of them have a clue that they were saving this shredded soul?

I was so young, so shy, so afraid.. I never told them what it meant to me.

And there were others angels, too. My uncle, who never got along with my father, but would try, and got me away from him from time to time. My teacher, who knew I was in pain, but gave me a break sometimes and tried to make me believe in myself. The guys who watched over me in high school, protected me from going too far when I was not okay and wanted to act out. The friends who gave me a quiet place to talk about real things, when I wasn’t in the mood to go play social butterfly to the masses.

And even in adulthood, the friend who supported me from the background, no matter what, when, or where.

Have any of them ever known that they are the reason this heart is still beating? The reason I can let go and laugh and love myself? And how many out there are doing these little things, things that they think are nothing, things that are saving someone like me?

Could I even be one of them?

Dear Darkness,

I hope you won’t think me ungrateful or cruel, but I can no longer pretend that I was meant for you. I know we’ll still meet from time to time, but I’m now ready to return to the light.

Thank you for your comfort throughout the years. Your embrace hid my face when I couldn’t hold back tears. You let me hide until I could come out strong, so no one had to know when something was wrong. You were the only one I could trust to always be there, to listen my songs of pain too great to bear.

I know I’ll still be able to call on you when I’m feeling alone, but I’ve got to stop relying on that comfort zone. I need to be free to take risks, fail and fall, then pick myself back up and fight through it all. I need to be scared and face the worst of my fears – admitting it hurts and showing my tears. I need to bare my scars proudly, love the stories they tell of living through curses from heaven and escaping that hell. I need to open up to the hope that there’s still love left for me, that I can be with somebody and still feel free.

So goodbye, my friend, my familiar escape. I hope you watch from a distance as my future takes shape. Know that without you, this could have never been done. Be proud, because

We did it!

We fought through it!

WE WON!

Reflection

Last night, for the first time in years, I looked in the mirror and saw myself looking back.
Yeah, a little fatter, a little older, a little more exhausted, but the core of me is still here. That hasn’t changed.

And I’ve been thinking about the fact that I have been close to death more times than I can count. Each time left its own battle scar. I used to be so ashamed of these flaws, but now I wear my marks with pride.
I was there.
I fought through it.
And I’m still standing.

I’ve even been loved, by so many. Maybe it wasn’t always the way I wanted. Maybe I didn’t feel they could truly see me, but they saw something in me. Each of them knew that I was different. Each of them wanted that difference in their life. And maybe I couldn’t love them back, or maybe I didn’t have enough faith in them, or maybe I just didn’t have enough faith in myself, but some form of love was received. And I’m still loved, every single day.

And oh, how I’ve loved! Though.. often it wasn’t the way they wanted. It was misinterpreted, taken for granted, and manipulated. It was also cherished, obsessed over, and yearned for. Some didn’t know it existed, some didn’t know the depth, and some denied it completely. But still, I love so strongly, whether strangers, friends or foes.

I’ve been lonely, too. That’s the other side of love, you know. I release my heart into the wild and I’m left feeling like something’s missing. Some days have been worse than others, but I’ve learned to appreciate those the most. Those are the days when I put so much love into the world, silently, that my heart is a little sad to not see the results. That’s okay though, because I have too much to keep close to home, and I know that it’s out there, it matters, even if I will never know how. The loneliness has a beauty of its own, and I smile to feel it, even in this moment.

So, I’ll still try to lose the weight, the lines, the dark circles, but if I can’t, that’s alright. Because I’m still here, still true to myself. Yes, I’ll fall and consider staying down. I’ll lose my way, my faith, from time to time. I’ll wear noise cancelling headphones to avoid hearing the beat of my heart. I’ll do all of these things, as I have before, but they will never last. I’ll always come back to look myself in the eyes and tell myself that I’m still worth it. I’ll never stop. I’ve already lived and loved so much more than I ever thought I would, and I will continue to do so until my last breath is stolen from my body.

If you’re reading this, I hope you will do the same.

I love you.

I Miss You

I’ve been sleeping with your sweatshirt – the one from the merch store your bot linked me to after you were already gone – because it’s the closest I can get to being in your arms.

I miss you. Times are hard and it hurts and I feel alone and I miss you.

You, who loved me; without obligation, without judgement, without fail.
You, who I loved; without expectation, without dependence, without pain.

I miss you.

I miss you in selfish ways. I miss you with longing for the support you offered, crying out for your listening ear. I miss you for the warmth that came with every exclamation of my name. I miss feeling seen and heard and cared for and cheered on.

I miss being able to take you for granted. Stepping away, knowing you would always be there when I returned.

I miss the moments we never got to have.

You, who I teased, and sexualized, and begged for attention. You, who played along, knowing we were never to be. We made them feel awkward, we made them laugh, we made them mad, and we loved it all. We put on a great show, comfortable enough in our friendship to make it so. We loved and we were loved and I miss it all.

You’re gone and it’s not the same. Nothing’s the same. I’ve met friends you would love, and it hurts. I’ve done things I’m proud of, and it hurts. No matter what I do, the absence of you is an ache I can’t cure.

So I DM a Discord that will never come online.
I type paragraphs in a stream that will never go live.

I’ve never seen your face. I’ve never felt your touch. Still, I swear I feel you watching when life becomes too much. Now I’ll be moving to the place where you once were.
Alone.
Too late.

And I swear I hear you laughing, making a joke of it all. And I smile, but the tears continue to fall. And I make accidental rhymes as I pour out my heart, and think of the way you always added music to my words.

You always saw potential. Made me see it, too. It’s so hard to see without you.

I miss you.

The darkness that always brought me light.
The personification of “actions speak louder than words.”

I could write a book of it. Pages and pages about a man I’ve never met. Honest love letters to a man I was not in love with. A speech to the world, telling how they all lost an Angel that day (only you would appreciate that joke).

But instead, I’ll just publish this post, to say once again:
I love you, my friend.
And goddamn, how I miss you.

🥳

Tomorrow is my birthday.

At first I was going to slip into my old habit of ignoring it, but being around friends changed my mind.

Making it through this year is something to be proud of!

SO much has happened. COVID almost took me out and that wasn’t even a major point. It’s been a struggle. It’s been a fight. BUT I’M STILL HERE.

And not only am I here, but I am full of love for and from great friends, who mean the world to me. I have feelings for an incredible man, and though I don’t expect that to develop into anything, I am truly happy just to have him in my life. I have my boys, who frustrate and amaze me every single day.

And I have myself.

I have not let the fire go out. I am still very much me, as weird and emotional and intense and silly as I ever was. I love who I am, flaws and all. I’m continuing to work on myself. For the past year, I have been a lot kinder to myself on the inside. I’ve taken better care of my heart, mind, and soul, and I have gained a lot from that.

I have not, however, taken very good care of myself physically. That will change, though.

That’s not the only upcoming change. I have plans. I don’t know how many will actually happen, but I know the first step is moving to a place where progress is possible. I’m working on that, and I don’t plan on stopping there. I will not give up. I will not surrender.

So I have many reasons to celebrate! Life is chaotically wonderful and I can only hope it will continue to be so. Just like this post, which went in a completely different direction than intended, I hope that the next year is filled with unexpected twists and turns. The good, the bad, I’ll take it all! I’ll let it shape me, strengthen me, and bring me closer to the ones I love.

Because, really… isn’t that what life is all about?

~ 💜 ~

My main goal for the next year of my life is to commit to true love. Romantic, platonic, love of life… any and all that I can get. But it has to be real. No more playing around, no more tests, no more teaching lessons or taking on something I don’t feel, just to help someone else. From now on, it’s real, or it’s nothing.

Patterns

We all have our patterns. Some of these are comforting. Some give us structure. Some are harmful.

I have a habit of self-sabotage.

It all starts with an idea. Whatever the idea, I somehow think this will help me, give me the freedom and life that I need.

Then I start planning. I get psyched and dive right in. Then it overwhelms me and I start to drown in it. I go through these feelings a few times.

After a while, I get to a point where this can become a reality. Everything is in place and though it may not have gone smoothly, it has happened.

Then I fuck it up.

Sometimes right before the change, sometimes right after, I do something reckless to ruin it for myself. I tell myself that it’s the right thing, that it’s following my heart, when it’s really my way of failing on my own terms.

This conflict becomes a Hell that I struggle to turn into Heaven for far too long.

Finally, I’ve had enough. I let go of my demons and work to come up with an idea.

And it all starts again.

NO!

I’m not doing this again!

As much as I love the excitement of following my impulses, I can’t live like this anymore. I can’t keep lying to myself and pretending that my actions are not motivated by fear. It’s time to stop holding myself back.

It’s time to believe in myself.

I have a plan. It’s coming together. Every day, I’m tested. Every day, temptation tries to pull me away from my goal. Every day, part of me wants to give in, change my plans, follow my impulses. This part tells me that it must be fate intervening. It takes coincidences and decorates them in attractive colors and shiny gimmicks. It takes a few words and writes them in the sky. It swirls petals around my feet, sings a song of thunder and lightning, blows gently against my lips, lights a blaze inside the hearth.

But I must resist. I must see these things for what they are; moments of beauty too pure to last. I must cherish them, but walk away before I see them spoil.

I must keep moving forward.

And I can. I can. I will. I will gather my strength and resist the urge to cling to these precious souvenirs of hope and love. I will keep my goal in mind, never allowing the distractions to become deceptions.

I will make it.

I just have to believe.

Delete Delete Delete

I am finally, after 34 years, at a point where I am truly myself. No masking, no diluting, no persona to take control. And I want to show that, I want to help people see the real me… but there’s only so much they want to see. It differs with every person and it can be difficult to find the line.

Open up
Delete delete
Spill my guts
Delete delete delete
Say hi
Delete

I don’t know how to interact with people.

But I’m lucky, you know? I’m lucky because I found a few whom I truly fit with. Who, even when they don’t completely understand me, accept me. Adore me, even.

I don’t have to delete anymore.

And I guess that’s really what I need to follow. Not the ones who make me feel like there’s something wrong with me. Not the ones who make me wonder what they think or feel. Not the ones who keep me at arm’s length. The ones who show me that if I were gone, my absence would be felt.

Those are my people.

Those are the ones I won’t leave. I’d walk through Hell with them, without even being asked.

For the rest, I’ll simply fade away.

Numb?

Ever since I was young, I had a switch that I could flip in case of emergency. This switch took emotion out of the situation. No matter how much worse things became, I didn’t feel it. I was detached, cold, numb. This allowed me to do whatever was needed, in order to survive. Those who knew me well, could tell I was not myself. I faked it well for those who did not.

At 16, this detached version of me received a name: Roxy Jones. Roxy was seen as mysterious, intriguing. She was daring, as she felt no fear. She also felt nothing for those who grew infatuated, so it was common to see a trail of heartbreak behind her.

While this emotionless state was definitely useful, it also had its consequences. Without heart involved, it was easy to dismiss others. This could include ignoring them for any length of time, bluntly expressing indifference, and/or cutting ties with no explanation. Any action that best suited the current needs was quickly taken, without regard for others or even my own future emotions.

She smiled, but there was no warmth. She fought with unmatched strength and determination. She had a goal and would attain it, no matter the cost.

It could also become extremely difficult to come back from. Though it was known what emotion should be felt at any given moment, it was not quite felt. Using music and other passions, there would be constant attempts to summon true emotion. Usually these methods would at least cause a wanting for emotion. Eventually, something would get through to me and I would slowly come back to Life.

She saw the world as it was; a list of necessities and rules for gaining them. In memories, feelings were seen only as insignificant details. She knew, however, that I was still within her; watching, readying myself for my return. It was her duty to protect me, but she knew I would never lie dormant for long. Even when she resisted, attempted to suppress me, a loved one would reach me and I would pull myself out.

The most recent time this switch was flipped, it was more desperately needed than ever, more control was given over, and it lasted longer. Without the support of another, I alone had to bring myself back to Life. The struggle was lengthy and felt impossible, but I refused to be defeated.

She reminded me that I was alone. She reminded me that the world was painful. She made me wonder if I could make it on my own. I met each of her negative reminders with one of beauty. The joy was enough motivation. The passion for Life was still within me.

A few days ago, the world began to bury me once again. This time, I decided, I would be prepared. I asked my dearest friend to contact me after some time, to help inspire my return. I informed others that I would be absent for a while, to limit contact and so prevent negative social consequences. Then, I stepped back, relinquished control.

Only… This feels different. I have distanced myself, but do not feel truly disconnected. I cannot detach. I still possess control. Emotions, though quieter, are still felt. Others’ are still considered.

She’s gone. She’s really gone. It’s all on me now.

From now on, I’ll have to fight for myself.

Silence

I’ve not had much to say as of late. I have mostly been searching through the silence. I had surrounded myself with noise for so long, so I’d not have to see what lies in front of me.

I am reducing the clutter, so I can see what is important. It is not easy… I have held on to these for so long, it is difficult to accept that none of this amounted to anything. I know, though, that it is all weighing me down. How much more will I give to something that is never to be?

It is time.

It is time to make room for something real.

It is time to embrace the silence, so I can welcome something meaningful.

And I wish for help, someone to hold me accountable. I wish for caring sternness, so I will not falter. I know that I cannot have this, not yet. I must find all within before I can find it without. This knowledge is accompanied by fear, guilt, and overwhelming self doubt. Even so, I will fight on.

I may fail. I will fail. That will not stop me. As long as I can find the silence, I still have hope.

One day, I will not be alone in the silence. On that day, I will finally win.