It’s The Little Things…

It’s been a while since I’ve written, mostly because I’ve had a lot going on and haven’t had time to process. But as the sunsets and gentle autumn breezes float through my window, as the warm of candles and the smell of apple cider and cinnamon sink in processing becomes easier. I feel like a princess on my bed of white sheets. I feel like I’m in my own world where I can escape. Or come back from a long time of escaping.

Do you have those people in your life that make you feel so welcome and unwanted at the same time? Like I love you, but please don’t need anything from me, or please realize I’m only going to let you in this much? I do. I feel boxed out of most people In my immediate world. This is part my fault due to bad decisions I’ve made that have made me want to pull away. But fault is never one sided. And this seems like the hardest hurdle to overcome. I’m not sure if I have the energy in me to overcome these hurdles anymore, or even the desire to do so.

They only let you in as much as they want to let you in, but want you to be an open book. I don’t understand that. You ask of something you cannot and refuse to give.

But it’s in the little things. Because sometimes you just want to show up in their instagram photo more than once every two years. And it sounds so silly but feels so real to me. Maybe it’s because of where I’m at. It’s like I’ve lost my voice altogether and don’t know how to speak anymore. I don’t want to speak anymore. I don’t want to try. I want to melt into the white of the sheets, into the smell of cinnamon and fresh candles. Hide behind the dark of the curtains and stay hidden. It’s not all the time, but right now it is. i just wanna melt away.

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It’s The Little Things…

The October Air

3 years ago I overdosed on a load of pills. It was my last attempt at committing suicide. It’s crazy because It didn’t work. LOL. I was inpatient at this hospital where my socks always got stolen and where people would wake up in the middle of the night screaming and yelling about how Obama was out to get them. There at the hospital, 2 hours away from where I live, I met my plug, the weed man, who just so happened to live 10 minutes from me.

When the dust settled, I found myself four years out, questioning who I am and what I want to be- where I wanna go and what I want to make for myself. Hope has never come easily for me. It’s not something that stirs inside of me. I wouldn’t call myself a dreamer. I don’t dream. I live realistically and aim for the best. If I hope anything I hope that my life doesn’t implode on me.

I’m learning to navigate my emotions like a ship in the storm. A lot of people would say don’t let your emotions effect you. That’s been my problem all along. I haven’t let my emotions affect me so much so that I can’t even figure out where they begin. But I’m figuring it’s worth a shot.

Four years ago, September 2012, was the first time I tried to commit suicide. I spent a few weeks in the hospital, only two leave for a day and come back. When I walked outside it was a crisp October day. Hurricane Irene was coming through. I hadn’t been outside into freedom for weeks. As my friend Ricky picked me up in his fancy camaro to take me home, I almost fell apart. Being outside was amazing for me. I saw the clouds and I felt the cool fresh air. And though it took some time for me to grasp, I found that the October Air brought me some much needed clarity. So here’s to October. And here’s to hope.

The October Air