I forgot i could technically stalk people online by asking mutuals to show me~ I forget people exist in a completely different wavelength than me on the internet. Making fake acounts and borrowing people's phones to keep tabs on someone. Meanwhile I'm on the news without even trying. Google me. Google you? Nothing. I ain't even trying. ;*

Forgetting where i stand in this world, who i am is who people see because what they see results in what’s going to happen to me. Remember my place. Mind my place. Know my place. Work from my place. I can make anything happen right? Change this perception. Better know myself. Better move and function in the world and “manage” all its intricacies. But yeah, no. My Mother made my place when I was born. I was on Earth for just a moment before she picked me up and lifted to the stars. In her gaze, relegated me to the sky, blue and wide and dark and light. Her hair was fire, all around her face, she was the sun, but I was everything else. Here on Earth I might exist one way, but out there where life is real, where atoms stop when witnessed, is me. I stop with them because i move with them. As unpredictable as the magnetic field, beyond the years and decades, I will become light when the world is burned. I will exist forever. This is my place.

cause she's not with you

having all my favorite things around me. All the things that use to make me feel alive. And nothing working. Nothing giving that "umph" of "I am here" is scary. But the. I have to remember I have mental illness. Things aren't what they seem. I must survive this season. I have created children. I must be here when they need me. People have "sold their souls" for less. I can lie a little. Till it goes away. Cause I am not my mental illness. It is only a part of me.

How do I prepare for a black hole to collapse? Will I know something has happened way too late? Will the sparkle of her last star reach me in time to at least hold her one last time? Will I be forced to live with her empty space beside me. The stillness of a deep night isn't comforting anymore. There are parts of me now out there, vibrating, living, burning hot in the sky, and they demand my materialization.

but that’s not what free writes are for. I use to think I didn’t have an audience for my free writes. Who could really understand all of this? But I do. Apparently they have to read at a a college level and have experienced a bit of life, which, unfunnily enough, actually eliminates a lot of college people and regular people so who am i left with. Is my audience out there reading this? Probably not cause y’all can’t read or y’all just don’t get it. But I’m imagining for the first time me on some stage in a chair looking out at you. Peering past the bright lights, so eager. Who has been listening? Has anyone been listening? I know one of you has been listening with bad intent, but I’m not worried about them right now. Who are you? The rest of you? What do you want from this? Just some art? Did I live, am i living my whole life just to make some art? No it’s not that drastic. I just happened to make some art out of my life along the way. Isn’t that beautiful. I’m sure you’ve made some art too audience. I hope to see it one day and enjoy it like you’ve enjoyed mine. I hope to give you your flowers.

If I hadn't had been doing it to meet my own needs mostly. I said a lot of thingsin my own head that I really mean. My sisters like a rubber band, she snaps. But I'm not pulled and I don't snap. There'd have to be counter resistance from me for someone to pull. I get pushed, because I'm fixed to where I am and I didn't ask for anything else or anything around me than the space I stand where I've been found. So I get pushed and pushed and pushed and I fall off the edge always. Falling off has never been into a gigantic void. It's not a dark abyss, I fall and "crash" into a new world. New surroundings. I turn around to hit the scenery with my whole face body self. To see myself fall and what I'm falling into. Life renews, begins again, my life always will. When life has always been like this, I wonder why everyone else wonders why I wish to stand still. I've never had to visit someplace to know if its magnificent. I know it is because I trust the people, stories, and world around me and I believe where I am myself is a magnificent place. The wonders I'm looking for are not the same. I live a life that is so much more than myself. Always has been that way and objectively always will be. Wether I'm happy or sad while it's happening. But I deserve to get mad. And I deserve to stay mad. If God didn't want me to be mad, he wouldn't of given me the ability to be.