hollowed out, cored and empty, my heart the sticky remnant of juice on the scoop

you are supposed to be the strong one but it turns out its me.
i believe you don't mean to wish for things that simply won't be

you are comfortable in fantasy, the truth of what won't, what can't will not disturb you, you have simply painted a picture, and you enjoy the sight of it.
it is I who stepped in, wrapped myself in the dreams of a life you can't deliver

look at what you really have to offer and simply offer me that

you don't have time
you don't have a future
we will not travel
we will not marry
or live for each other

i will be happy with the time we have

but it is not forever

please stop fooling yourself

your heart will not be wrecked

mine must be weeded and pruned of a you that does not exist.

i love that you speak of such things, that you honestly have the desire for them in your heart.
woo me with reality only. it's enough for now

abolish forever, it is a fantasy

The Questions

It's the questions that make me fuzzy. I decide to write, to put ideas down, let them rest in one spot. But I always start with "who am I?" Can I just keep asking that question at the start of every attempt to take a seat and write what comes? Maybe I feel the answer is too boring? Maybe I just can't seem to figure out the answer? I run from surety to utter confusion. My mind stands firm for a moment. I have a thought, a single answer, an idea that seems completely my own. But its all fog when I reach to hold long enough to let my fingers give them a spot on paper (or a blog or whatnot?) Am I meant to be elusive? Can I just be enough for me without a chance to be elucidated? My hands have no gift for art. The colors, the 3 dimensional space that is within that I wish to speak has no connection to the outer. Would anyone care to look anyway? Am I not singlehandedly worth it? With no audience, does my expression bear expressing?

The question of life worth living

I am loathe to comment on politics.  Posting on facebook with my opinion only serves to join in the joy of people who are already happy while irritating people who are unhappy. I am stuck in the middle of a political halfway place, where my family of choice differs so greatly with my family of birth. 

I have no great desire to get into debates about DOMA. My viewpoint is clearly and firmly planted on one side of the issue. I will never understand the opposing faction and I hear no argument that makes absolutely one bit of sense to me. I will love them but I will always be saddened by their viewpoints.

The abortion bill being so hotly debated in Texas is another. To say that being pro-choice is the equivalant of being pro-abortion is so alarmingly reductive that I won't even address anyone who wants to make that statement. So let's move on.

My biggest quandry about this debate is the statement made by conservatives that "all life" should be protected. I truly understand the facts about the development of a baby in the womb. I am not simply uninformed about the whole process. Abortion is an ugly thing. I know of no one who takes the subject or the idea of it lightly. Then why am I pro-choice? I believe because I can be put in a different category with the same title. I want "all life" protected. Have I confused my own issue? Let me be clear. A baby is not born in or unto a thing. It is brought forth to life, from life. This life can not be forgotten and so neither can all the lives that have already been disconnected from their mother's womb. The conservative agenda does not seem to spend much energy on the lives already being lived. Lives that come with a multitude of circumstances and psychological burdens. Conservatives don't want to give "handouts." If you aren't living the american dream, it's no concern of theirs. Wealth and health are for the lucky or the strategic. A child with no home and no food is not protected by a conservative political ideology. As long as you are alive, why is it important how shitty your life turns out to be? Someone has to be on the bottom, right? Well, women are not simply creators of life, they are people, people who make decisions for reasons that we absolutely must concern ourselves with.

I will stand with conservatives who want to end abortion but only when they begin to tirelessly work to eradicate the following first:

1. Women are no longer victims of violence; rape, physical abuse, mental abuse, etc.
2. The mental burdens that cause people to abuse children are eradicated. When every child is loved in a safe environment.
3. Children are not exposed to poverty whatever the reason.
4. No one in this country (or the world for that matter) goes hungry (mentally AND physically).
5. When adoption is feasible for every single child and there is no such thing as an orphanage.
6. When every parent is a good parent.
7. When every person despite their circumstances can be paid a living wage.
8. Adoption is not seen as shameful.
9. Men always take 50% of the responsibility for the consequences of sex.
10. The 100 other things I can't think to list.

I don't like living in a world where a woman feels she must have an abortion. But I live in this world and I can not just ignore what comes after we force a woman to bring life into the world.

Writers must write, right?

So I started this blog so I could write. As you may see, I haven't really done that. I have lots of great ideas when I am walking around or driving, a million different places but sitting at a computer. But  I know I want to write. So how do I solve this dilemma? I will do the most cliche thing that every article about writers has ever said. I am just gonna force myself to write. I'm gonna sit down at this computer and just write. About what, I have no idea. And fair warning, it's probably gonna suck.

I will take these moments and soak them in
my hand on your small chest will be a sponge
your small heartbeat and this moment

I will not let slip a moment
one girl to each side
a blanket not so equally shared

you were babies a sheer blink ago
now you don't fit so snugly in my lap
but you still let me hold you

The mind is an inescapable cage.

Music was made to open the window and let in the air. I can lay down and the cage doesn't seem so dark.

I thought one day I could ruminate into an answer. Now I realize the question is trapped in here with me. The maze is not square, the path does not lead anywhere. It's a perfect circle.

I am sitting here weeping.

How much more optimism can this world beat out of me?

The happiness of others is a painful stab and the tears come even more. They are all finding happiness and I carry a loneliness that gets heavier than I thought I could ever bear. The darkness is willing the light to simply hate them and let the envy and jealousy finish its work in my heart. Her smile is a reminder of things I have never felt.

 I would love some comfort, someone to tell me it will be okay. The problem is, who would this person have to be for me to believe them right now. I have friends who I could call. They would assure me, they would comfort me. I should be thankful for that. I am not. This time in my life is being recorded in my mind and heart and it is breaking me down. To share it with others would add their minds to those who know the sadness and brokenness I continue to  live in. I can't live with their sympathy too. I just could not bear it. And they are all becoming something. Becoming partners, becoming happy, becoming strong in their careers. All I can do is watch other lives blossom. I feel dead down to my roots. I am holding on. I won't break, I will simply find enough hope to make it to the next day. Today my hope is empty and I sit in my dark room, thankful my tears can keep me sane another night.

Life is a grindstone. For many it does its work to sharpen the steel and gives its bearer a strength and purpose to live a life where one can cut down the obstacles in their path. But what if the steel stays connected to the grindstone? When the steel gets ground away, there is nothing but to lay the flesh to the grindstone, to the bone, and then to the beating heart. When the heart is destroyed, what is there to do but mourn?