Humanity: Raw & Unfiltered
Are the precious ones with the most colorful souls Painting love in glorious hues of aqua, fuchsia, tangerine and gold The crazies feel the weight of the world in their twinkle toes And catch the gentle autumn breeze on the tip of their upturned nose They feel it all heavy Read more
the postman may always ring twice for Lana Turner
but not for me
no more
Silence
in that sacred space created
a beauty of mind
I was always choosing between a relationship and my cherished
and essential alonement
my connection to Self
denied for dozens of years
choosing validation by whomever wanted to fuck me
I was so stupid when I found out I was pregnant. I had no idea. I was 14 years old.
That I didn’t know missing my period meant pregnancy. Do I need to be ashamed? Do I have to tell you how many pills I swallowed to hide my shame? Do I have to tell you how it felt to have tubes shoved up my nose as they pumped my stomach at 15 years old?
If we allow the weight of that emotional baggage to tie us to that measurement, then it can do damage, then it means something, then it can hurt us emotionally, physically, however we choose it to.
But wait, it’s just a measurement.
As a small child, I tentatively
reached my feet toward the floor
apprehensive of the crevice,
the mere inches
where darkness bleeds until
my monster emerged
The raw emotions continue to be painful. I’m still spazzing. I’m still distraught. I’m still frantic and furious. I’m working hard to shed this baggage and the image that has been branded upon me. Meanwhile, I am damaged. Mentally and physically, I am unable to cope on my own. I need support. I need help. I need an advocate.
I finally understand what it means to be a survivor. I must find my footing, pave my way, and mow over the resistance. Even if I’m all alone, I fully intend to fight for my self-worth for as long as it takes.
When the silence starts to scream,
when the pain starts to demand,
I search for a crowd,
one that can distract the deafening silence.