I wish I were rich. On a yacht in the middle of the sea bluer than my eyes. I want to hangout with celebrities that know me by name and cameras that capture our friendships just to publish them. Forbes magazine seems like an economic dream, unfathimable to those who's parents never gave them an upper hand. I want to spread word on topics that I care strongly about and have a following so wide that maybe I could change just one persons opinion. I wish I were sitting in a bedroom in a mansion at the ripe age of seventeen, not having to worry about the serious problems our country faces like starvation and homelessness. My biggest problem weighing on my shoulders being how on earth would I survive if my mom and dad dont buy me the next best technology keeping me further intact with a group a friends binded by superficial expectations. I wish I were in the VIP section of the hottest club sitting next to Usher or any other well known artist, pretending to enjoy my company for the night just to forget that we even spent that time together by our next meeting. I wish I were sitting in a makeup chair as someone perfectly designs my cheekbones and nosebridge to match the perfectionist tendencies built by people on the internet that I will never meet.
I used to wish I was exactly where I am now. In a house that I built into a home. A family of maybe not humans but my loves, one with two legs and three with four. I am confident with zero makeup and tend to make myself feel a little prettier with some mascara daily. I do not have many friends, but few that I keep incredibly close with advice I trust thoughrouly. I wished I had been in an area that made me happy with lots to adventure through. These old needs fulfilled through long drives surrounded by rows of corn and many animals. I seemed to have always overlooked what I had and I am exactly where I want to be. More competant and grown that I used to be with the capibility to continue growing. Plenty of luxuries lie ahead with much hard work, which tends to fill my needs of self suffiecency.
I came across you on a dating app
You intrigued my greatest pleasures
You felt warmer than the coffee
And smelt better than the bakery
I invited you in when you walked me home
In Love I Fell
Hard and swift, passionate and disabling
I was torn from reality
A slave became my title
My master became yours
You left me on my knees crying
Never once looked back after the door closed.
I know youve done this before
A murderer of passion
A serial killer of self awareness and individuality
Ever so Slightly
My wrists gushed with red and the window was painted gray as it entered the night. In college, I discovered a new color. A color that changes every so slightly within me as I change. A doctor in a white coat approached me, to layout my devastating future ahead of me. My days seemed dark for a long time. Nothing specific, but definitely unwelcomed colors that never seemed to shed any light on paths I spent months looking for. Time seemed to drag on and the only comfort I find is in the colors of love. Reds and pinks seem to distract me like the fuzzy feelings of Valentine's day in elementary school when the love of your life gives you one extra piece of candy. These reds and pinks lasted like a shitty coating of deck paint that never lasted even one winter.
Clean air felt bleak, with no scent to hold my capture. The sun felt venomous, too much brightness, showing feelings I'm envious towards. I felt no comfort in the outdoors although I hear that's the best for you. My curtains stay drawn, two-layered for ultimate sun-soaking.
My bed is warm. A new quilt covers me, hand-stitched by a woman in New England, in my mom's attempt to make me feel just a little bit better. I reflect back on college, past relationships, and old friends. Happiness that seemed so far from my light, undernourished, anxious grasp. Unworthy and exhausting, the color of dread. Unhappy and time-consuming, the color of tragedy. A walking statistic forgetting the world of color that used to surround me.
Tough love advances me above unimaginable heights. "There's only so much I
can do. You need to start putting in an effort." Harsh to many, I can imagine. But that's how I was brought up. A new series arises before me of effort and fail trial and error, and insatiable hunger for growth and success.
The roads have cleared no paths and the exhausting haul up the same mountain remains tedious. But my strengths glisten throughout blue lakes, and time seems more manageable hidden in a coat of green forests and golden sunlight. Healing is a color of unimaginable concoctions, none at which the mind can comprehend. The color of healing, like a pheromone, is seemingly different from every story. A color that starts faint and grows brighter and more intriguing as time moves on. A color that creates a perception of the possibility of power and strength.