Okay again

It was the smell of spring that brought me back,

it was the heat radiating off the gravel.

It was the first time I remembered how to smile

after my final breakdown last winter.

It was the feeling of knowing things will work out

despite not knowing how to get there.

It was the relief after the weight in my chest lifted,

I’ll be okay and nothing can stop that.

gone bitter

I had gone bitter, I realized, lying on my floor at 7 pm. Lights off, music playing, thoughts ruminating like a bad storm. I tend to relate my feelings to the weather, and the weather affects my mood. We have that kind of relationship. And today it was windy, cold, and dark. I felt it deep inside my chest.

I spent a long time forcing myself to fall in love with boys who weren’t worth it while hating myself. Under the impression that having someone else love me equated to me loving myself. If he could do it, I wouldn’t have to. Maybe if someone else loved me, I could understand what there was to love about myself. But that’s not how it works.

And I spent so much time in half-assed relationships with people who only wanted to hurt me, and I don’t blame them. I should. And I did for a while. But I realized they hated themselves just as much as I hated myself, and I understood why they stayed for so long.

And I sit here, laying on the floor in my darkened room, and I realize I’ve gone bitter. I’ve always kind of been bitter, but I got just bad enough sleep this week to acknowledge my bitterness. And the music, its own agenda about breakups, have me thinking back on my exes and all the damage they did.

And I don’t blame anyone for my bitterness. I don’t even blame myself. I know it’s just today. It’s just the weather and it’s just my lack of sleep. But there’s moments when I’m not so sure.

Seasons

And I don’t think anyone could make me feel as free as when I’m walking down the suburb streets I know so well, mid-summer, the wind at my back, headphones in playing my favorite song.

I don’t think anyone could make me feel the relief of the sudden chill in the air after months of overheating, finally wearing my favorite jacket, going for a walk and seeing mushrooms after it rained.

I don’t think anyone could make me feel as safe as looking out my window in the morning after the first snowfall of winter, the warmth from my blankets contrasting with the cold of the windowsill.

I don’t think anyone could make me feel as hopeful as the first day in spring when it starts to warm up, after months of bundled up, freezing temperatures and I can sit outside and work on this or that.

And I don’t mind. Because the seasons could never remember my favorite color or the way I like my coffee. The seasons couldn’t hold my hand or give me their jacket when I get cold. I fell in love with the seasons, and they come and go and I fall in love with each change, but they could never make me feel as wanted as a text saying, “this made me think of you.”

Summer

I miss my carefree nature,

I miss the wind at my back,

I miss the way the sun beams glowed

early summer mornings.

I miss watching the sunrise

from my bedroom window,

and I miss watching the sunset

on the beach with the dog.

I miss the simplicity,

and how I knew it’d all be fine.

Sometimes winter gets so cold,

I fear I’ve gone as bitter as the wind.


Tea and Nostalgia

Tea in the afternoon,

hard at work on this or that

and the sun shines through the window, cracked.

Tea on the windowsill,

a gentle breeze cools the drink.

It’s not as cold as it’s been lately

and the smell of fresh air

brings a sense of nostalgia

for when I had no troubles,

spending all my time running around outside.

I have this obsession with nostalgia

and I think it’s because I’m so eternally exhausted

and I miss the feeling

of optimism and pure delight

I only truly had as a child.

I’m only 22

but I’ve been through enough

to deserve this cup of tea

and a moment of clarity.

Small Talk

The grass turned green

and the snow melted;

hope came back.

Echoes of strangers saying

“So nice out today,”

followed by another stranger’s

“enjoy it if you can.”

I smile and agree,

I always hated small talk, though.

“Medium iced mocha”

I tell the barista.

“Iced, good choice.”

“So nice out today.”

I pay and take my coffee

to a table in the corner.

If I take my notebook out,

they won’t talk to me.

But is that what I want?

That’s what my anxiety tells me,

but I don’t mind a little small talk

if it leads to a real conversation.

But it always starts with the same

“So nice out today, huh?”