I'm No Stranger

-

 

I'm no stranger to letting go.

I'm no stranger to catharsis.

I'm no stranger to days moving slow,

and the pain of loving Narcissus.


I'm no stranger to the lone road

Especially that less traveled.

I'm no stranger to the heavy load

of all my fears unraveled.


but giving up--I won't allow.

I'll become my own mother

and I'll lead the way in learning how

to love myself and others.


-BPS



Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Asthmatic Crowd Surfing

-
Image
Like most, anything interesting that has ever happened to me was a complete accident or, at the very least, unforeseen. Like crowd surfing, for example. If I told you I've crowd surfed before, would you believe me? If not, I completely understand. I'm not typically the type to demand hundreds of hands upon me while owning the spotlight. If you would believe me, I'd be interested in knowing why. It is true, however, that I've crowd surfed. It's a weird story. Just about all of my stories are eccentric at best. When I was 13, I attended my first live show at the infamous SOMA in San Diego, CA. SOMA was basically the place where everyone around San Diego would come to see their favorite metal, rock, alternative, and even Indie bands play live. Hipsters, scene/emo kids, militrash, and general grunge folks alike could be seen hanging around this wonderful venue every weekend. It's a cultural relic to this day. If you're not into the live music sort of thing, you ...
Read more

I Don't Hate Christmas

-
Image
  I don't hate Christmas, really, I just hate the visceral jealousy that I suppress at stockings hung innocently in the homes of my friends. It's not that I hate Christmas, It's just the impulse I get to seclude myself on a mountain at the sight of city decor lighting up streets, homes, and stores. It's not Christmas' fault that I get the urge to cope with sweet oat nog and cookies so I can at least taste nostalgia, alone in my car, before regretting my sugar intake. I promise it's not Christmas it's just the constant chill down my spine whether from the cold or from bodily flashbacks that come with seeking physical closeness with others. It can't be Christmas that has me reliving all the times my mother threw my unwrapped gifts at me a couple days too early as she screamed slurs and insults in my direction. I love Christmas, I do, I just hate the fear of being left that my mother instilled by running away, having me believe it was forever, and wondering...
Read more

Everything is Foreign

-
Image
"Maybe the reason I want to live in a van is so I can feel in control of what is foreign from my stable little home pod,"      I thought to myself earlier today.       It's a rainy day, which means I couldn't do the van work I needed to do for today, so what else to do than sit and psychoanalyze myself in hopes of combating my depression?      So that's what I did all day, and of course that meant diving into my childhood trauma, wounds, etc. Somewhere along my metacognitive, inner child rabbit hole I came across this thought I've been holding onto for a couple years now: The word "Mom" feels foreign in my throat.       When I tell stories about her, and when people ask about her or my family in general, I'm struck with this self-pity that I use that word less frequently than the average person who has a living mother. The word "Mom" has therefore begun to feel more like a tonsil stone than a word when it comes out. ...
Read more