If I Dont Live To See Tomorrow

But if I’m being honest it’s hard.

I want to give up,

But I can’t.

I joke that I do it all out of spite,

But that may not be too far from the truth.

I promise myself that something like this isn’t going to take me out;

I have been through so much worse,

Yet it’s not the hardship itself that makes me tired,

But the consecutive struggles.

The universe had thrown me into a life of hardship,

But with a spirit too stubborn to back down,

And the stiffness hurts,

And I made a note to water them

And find a vase

But I forgot to do so

And when I woke up I remembered this dream

And made a note once more that at some point in this life

They won’t find me out here,

This is a safe place.

Amongst the bears and wolves,

The scrutiny of man is but a distant shadow,

And the false reality I lived in for so long,

But not in the ways you think at all,

I dance on a stage of nails while they applaud,

I will change.

I fear that because I’m going to miss you so much,

I will shove my emotions down,

And cope by suffocating them like oxygen.

Im used to seeing people go;

I’ve seen my dad leave a million times…

After visitations there was no real promise I would see him the next time,

And for a long time I didn’t.

And I remember the day I had to say goodbye to my mom,

As she hugged us crying before child services took us away.

I didn’t see her for two years after that,

And in order to survive,

I changed.

It’s been the nature of my reality,

Separating myself from feeling when the people I love go.

But I don’t want to separate myself from you.

I love the way you smile,

And I love the warmth I feel in your arms.

We laugh and spend time not just as lovers,

But as close friends.

What we have is so much more than skin deep,

And that deep connection i fear,

Because when you go,

From the collected works of Khalil Gibran

Sorrow and joy come from the same places,

They are two sides of the same coin.

Both of them should be fed,

And shared with those who will listen and partake.

Joy and sorrow are key human experiences,

And if I’m being honest

I don’t need to know.

If I needed to know who I was

to be alive

I would have died long ago

For the bitter sips of mystery and danger,

For the bursts of life and energy,

For all that’s peculiar and free.

I follow the lights of the shining stars,

And the great ones I see from afar,

Those who die without ever having a name,

But their greatness remains forever the same.

I love the little things in this life,

I seek both joy and painful strife.

My feet are on the ground but my head up above,

Dear Anonymous,

I know it’s been a while since we’ve had a heart to heart. Sometimes, I wonder if we ever did have a heart to heart that didn’t end in something bitter. It was always hard to talk to you and tell you how I felt. Every word I said came off as a criticism, and every tear I shed made you angrier. My pain was your whip, and although I was the small child in the situation, I would always be accused as the abuser; the abandoner.

I knew you were falling apart long before I grew up and left. You had a history of self sabotage, and even as a child I understood that the things I went through as a result of you, weren’t because you meant to hurt me; it was meant to hurt you. You hate your life, you hate it’s outcome, and you hate what you’ve been through. I understand that. You’ve been through a lot, just like me. But unlike me, you remain a victim. When you grew up, you no longer had an abuser to bring that familiar feeling of hateful love, so you turned to lovers who provided that. When you couldn’t find a lover to do so, you hated yourself. You built a reality where the world hated your very breathe, and to this day I see you hate a reality that you built.

You’ve pushed us away, and it hurt. You’ve chosen you’re hate over us, and it stung. Nonetheless, we healed and we kept hope. You would come home. You would one day keep your promises. One day, you would get better. I still hope this for you, but I can’t tell you that I expect it. In order to get help, you have to admit that something is wrong, and you never will. That’s okay though. We still love you, but won’t be a victim to your life anymore.

We’ve grown up. A is great it’s computers, and he’s a genius in school. He hates sports, but as a high schooler he has built complex video games and 3D models so much so that we want him to be an apprentice to help with college when he goes next year. C is doing great too! He’s such a well rounded kid, and he started his freshman year. He is so big, the football coaches love him and put him on varsity. He is stronger than me, and he is so sweet. I see him as a gentle giant. He doesn’t have the same pain as A and I do when we think of our childhood. He was so young, he does not remember most of it. What he remembers, he remains resilient as a result, and he doesn’t let it ruin him. He’s so pure of heart, and he is the apple of my eye. I may not be his parent, but it feels as if I have raised him. In all reality, I have.

We are really close. We listened to your advice to stay close, because all we have in the end is each other. You and R built a reality around us where that was usually the case, and as a result we are a trio. Even with me far away, they remain in contact and they tell me everything, especially C. We’ve grown into our own humans Anonymous. I know you still talk to us like we’re little, because not even 6 visitations ago, we were little. However, we’ve grown up, and I can tell you that we are becoming some fine adults. I don’t know if you worry about us, but if you do, please know we are doing great.

A part of me still hurts and is bitter, but it’s getting smaller everyday. Im beginning to understand more and more, and I have accepted that no matter what I will always love you, Anonymous. We are all imperfect, and you never had bad intentions. It is hard to give others the love they need when you don’t know how to love yourself, and I understand that. I just hope for the day you see the light again, and that you can learn to love yourself. I hope for the day I can see you, and you are truly happy. Until then, the lights are on in the bedrooms of my heart, and I will always be there for you when you decide to get help.

Sincerely,

The life of a model looks more glamorous than it is,

The heroism of war is not as grand as it seems,

And the idea of a perfect home isn’t as perfect from the inside.

We exaggerate a reality,

And turn it to a dream,

Denying that the truth isn’t what is seems.

The top model is bulimic and addicted to pills,

And the hero killed himself after the war.

Mother and father smile when the guests come over,

But they sleep in different beds and hate the sight of one another.

These realities exist,

Yet we still overidealize.

Why not build a true reality,

One of both love and hate,

One of imperfection,

And teach our children to grow and learn from their flaws rather than deny their existence, creating an aesthetic;

But you can miss out on your opportunity to live

I turn to the little things.

The small bits of laughter with friends and strangers,

The slight smile you give the cashier when you check out at the store.

The birds nesting in the trees,

And the trees themselves

Living peacefully in the moment.

Seeing the world around me,

Reminds me that this moment is small,

And although my experience is rough,

And a guilt building up inside.

They eat with their eyes at my skin,

Never knowing the soul that sleeps within.

Both a confidence booster and a shame,

Towards my body I feel love and disdain.

I’ve been taught to put on a show and be vain,