E's Journal
8 posts in this topic.
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stuff
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Goals:
1. Write 1 poem a day, no matter how awful it is
2. Add 10 entries to my art poetry journal
3. Have fun!! -
"with you. To be close, J.,
to everything that is close to you—
blue blanket, red cup, green shoes
with pink laces.
To be the blue & the red.
The green, the hot pink."
-"When I Grow Up..." By Chen Chen -
“In between, wanting presents on birthday to wanting someone’s presence on birthday, we all grow up.” -Unknown
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Freewrite:
The greatest revenge I can get is proving my worth to the world in hopes you’ll be watching from sme distant outlook, a city of creation below your feet that I, will have created. I stand at the front point of my army now, my eyes they catch onto you, and with my hand raised, is it help I reach out for, or love? Comfort? Maybe I just want to pull you back down with me. It isn’t selfish to want company on the way down, to want that hand to hold when the world is at odds ends, when the struggle to move forward becomes so pressing, you forget how to use your feet. For a moment I thought to myself”wouldn’t it be lovely...” I wish someone had cut me off then and there, left me puzzled, confused, and stuck on what the hell to do. I never knew, but I assumed you did so I thrusted my energies into speaking to you on what became a daily basis and eventually your words were a drug to me, a dopamine release between the synapses in my brain and between each nerve down to the bottom of my feet. You didn’t just stop at the fingertips, but kept going, kept trying to make the world make sense, to make it safer, or at least in your opinion. And then one day, you just up and left. I wish someone had told me there was a reason not to get involved with someone like you, not to mix my head, my heart, and my gut, for they each have very different opinions, I never lead with the right one. As I watched you slip away, the unfamiliarity became strikingly obvious. You never really cared about me. You cared about one person, and one person only; yourself. You thought that by saving someone else, someone you can relate to, you’d be seen as a better person, a stronger individual, and more prone to achieving Z. You are not Z. If anything you are a solid C, maybe even closer to a B. Your failures to stand by someone who had lost complete control of themselves and the image they once had, has held you back. You failed me, the way I’d fail a pre-calculus test last fall. You will ever reach Z, and neither will I, for I am A, and you are C, we are not fast enough, our lifetimes don’t last long enough to bring us to the final Z. Maybe if we were both different people in a different time, before landmark cases and equal rights, the two of us could find our on separate paths to the end, but not together, that never will work in any lifetime or any place. I wish I could leave you and my memory of you behind somewhere, like under the dirt in the backyard, held in a tin box, maybe some lost kid could stumble upon it and scream “Fate! Fate!” as he climbs out of a social closet. I’d drop the letters in there, the bruises and scars, the late nights, no sleep, waiting for you to text or call, I’d leave behind the smile you flashed at me, the way I stood next to you on the field that day, the disapproving glare you gave me, but not my motivation. Not my will to prove you wrong, to prove to you that I have to fight for my fucking life, in whatever that may be. I will not let you take down that part of me. -
Concept: Sometimes I feel like Alaska
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