Daughter

My daughter
I try to love her so much
I try to protect her and do everything I can to love her right because I never want her to feel the way I do everyday. That hole. That loss of something. Loss of love. Feeling like you don't matter to the ones that your supposed to matter to the most. I love her so much it consumes me. I wonder if some of the love I love her with is the love I wish my mother had for me.

Butterfly

I am so in love with my daughter. Not to bash my own mother, but we never connected, I always felt like we were 2 ships that always collided and never docked at the same port. 

This feeling has become stronger now that I have my own daughter.

My whole life I felt like an outsider. I felt lost, like I didn't belong anywhere. I wanted to connect, to feel like a human being. 

I was intense, like a sharp knife, and my parents were dull, unemotional, not engaged. 

And then it changed. I met him. He was able To see the world as I did, in color. 

 And he was enough, and then I became pregnant.

And then I held her, and breathed her in, and with every sense I became alive, like I never had before.

She was a butterfly. Butterfly's are proof that anyone can have a chance at a second life. 

And I feel like a different person, I feel happy. 

I feel like I'm a butterfly, living a life with color- with my two loves, connected finally in a world I can belong in 

My daughter

You. You. You

My soul. My very all. My daughter. 

The first person I ever met that was blood related to me.

You have my lips and my nose

You have Bruce's eyes and ears.

 A perfect combination,

A product of our love.

My soul spills over with joy.

My Katarina Marie. 

When we're leaving dreams and rolling back the covers

All at once we're getting ready for the day

It's when you look at me in the mirror while you're shaving

Before I go on my way, you say

I'm in love with you

I'm in love with you

You're the one I choose

‘Cause I'm in love

Love is joy and love is pain

It's kissing in the rain

It's doing dishes when it's late

Isn't it, baby

It's the art of compromise

It's hellos and long goodbyes

It's the picture of our lives

I wish I knew what the future looked like 

And I wish that I didn't feel so unheard. 

There is something being lost, as each day passes, how the time is nonchalant and the days blur together: alike and dripping of blankness.

And there is no horrifying experiences, how do I wish to feel something- spmething that bad, because I'd rather feel than have nothing worthy of putting my pen to the paper- having nothing to remember.

But this is somehow a loss of myself- I have nothing to define me at this moment, and I am not the girl I used to be, which is wonderful, but I wish that I was wonderful, instead of just boring and floating and a cacophony of memories; like a film that never stops running. 

I want to be something, I want to feel something, I want to be more than this, i want to live, and yet I don't know how because I gave up on being someone a long time ago, and now that I have the chance to be someone, it is terrifying and overwhelming and something I'm certain to lose. 

I remember that it hurt,

Looking at her hurt 

I was in the winter of my life, and the men I met along the road were my only summer.

At night I fell asleep with visions of myself, dancing and laughing and crying with them.

Three years down the line of being on an endless journey, and my memories of them were the only things that sustained me, and my only real happy times.

I once had dreams of becoming a beautiful poet, but upon an unfortunate series of events saw those dreams dashed and divided like a million stars in the night sky that I wished on over and over again, sparkling and broken.

But I didn't really mind because I knew that it takes getting everything you ever wanted, and then losing it to know what true freedom is.

When the people I used to know found out what I had been doing, how I'd been living, they asked me why - but there's no use in talking to people who have home.

They have no idea what it's like to seek safety in other people - for home to be wherever you lay your head.

I was always an unusual girl.

My mother told me I had a chameleon soul, no moral compass pointing due north, no fixed personality; just an inner indecisiveness that was as wide and as wavering as the ocean...

And if I said I didn't plan for it to turn out this way I'd be lying...

Because I was born to be the other woman.

Who belonged to no one, who belonged to everyone.

Who had nothing, who wanted everything, with a fire for every experience and an obsession for freedom that terrified me to the point that I couldn't even talk about it, and pushed me to a nomadic point of madness that both dazzled and dizzied me.

The more it rains, the easier it is to breathe. 

He and I,

like piano and violin, 

weaving together,

Becoming one song

And every morning I wake to you, floating on clouds. 

I think I  always have dealt with not knowing who I am, or where I came from. I think it had to do with the fact that I was adopted, and didn't feel like I fit anywhere, like I matched anyone around me.

And I think when the drugs came into play six years ago they gave me a sense of False belonging, and after awhile that illusion turned into more isolation and more confusion. It also turned me into someone else: someone desperate, someone who was capable of doing bad things, someone who wasted time, someone that was her worst nightmare.

And the high expectations and the the failures and the dreams I let go of were all wrapped into it, and it made it so much more painful.

And after awhile I didn't recognize myself in the mirror anymore, I didn't want to be apart of myself, I didn't see the point in keeping on going when I knew there would always be more pain on the horizon.

And then it stopped, and then things changed, I was sober, I was free, but I still had all this left over garbage festering inside me. I still had the loss and the time I had wasted. I still didn't know who I was.

And I'm still here right now, not knowing who I am, and there is pain in that but also beauty- because I am a piece of clay to be molded- a blank sheet of paper. 

I don’t know if you’ve ever felt like that. That you wanted to sleep for a thousand years. Or just not exist. Or just not be aware that you do exist. Or something like that. I think wanting that is very morbid. And I used to want that, but I don't want that anymore.