Bad Writing

It's (never) perfect!

[casualcloudchaos]

NotOK

I’m not okay

I’m not, okay.

I’m not okay, okay.

After a lifetime of asserting 

Fine.

I’m fine.

I can tell you that

I’m 

not okay.

Not okay.

I’m not okay.

[casualcloudchaos]

Content-tious

Contentment feels strange

after a lifetime of anxiety and fear and struggle

Contentment feels like boredom

Contentment feels like space that I don’t know what to do with

Contentment feels like silence that I can’t stand to hear

Contentment feels itchy

or stiff like a new pair of shoes that offers real arch support after wearing ballet flats for years

Contentment feels unsafe

Contentment feels like that moment before something else happens

I can’t trust it

[casualcloudchaos]

I am NOT lost, I am LOADING

That in-between space

That liminal space

That thing that lots of people call exhilarating, and beautiful, and delicious, but I ask –

what? for who? for whom?(?) what part of not knowing where you are is fun?

[casualcloudchaos]

heartbreak

You know when you learn something and then you see it everywhere

You know that feeling of being unsure if you are the only one who can see it

and then you ask someone

and it turns out

Everyone can see it

they just don’t care

[casualcloudchaos]

tiny grandma

The home in my heart is

A cabin made of conversation

Stamped with memories of spending time with you

[casualcloudchaos]

a joke

am I codependent?

[casualcloudchaos]

trust

Learning to trust is a chicken-egg type cycle of

vulnerability and reliability

Who came first?

 The part of you willing to be vulnerable

or

the part of you willing to show up

They each say it’s the other

But they’re both you

[casualcloudchaos]

Learning to trust by meeting up with doubt

Me: oh hey, yeah, hi, you’re here.

Doubt: Yeah, I mean, you invited me.

Me: Did I? Oh yeah, I guess I did. So, what’s up, how are you?

Doubt: I don’t think you should do this.

Me: Okay.

Doubt: You do not know what you are doing.

Me: Well-

Doubt: You are going to fuck up your whole life.

Me: Okay that’s-

Doubt: You should wait for someone to tell you what to do.

Me: Like who?

Doubt: Anyone.

Me: Anyone?

Doubt: Anyone

Me: Anyone.

Doubt. Anyone.

Me: Okay, I hear-

Doubt: Anyone.

Me: Let me speak.

Doubt: Any-

Me: I said let me speak.

Doubt: Mm.

Me: I hear you. You don’t trust me-

Doubt: No.

Me: Let me speak. You don’t trust me. But I trust me - some of the time. And I am still willing to bet on myself, and know that I will be able to get- no, grow through whatever comes my way after I do this. Okay?

Doubt: Well-

Me: And before you start talking. I see that I gave you an opening there, but I’m taking it back. I don’t know what’s going to happen next. It will be hard, probably. And I’m okay with that because I am miserable listening to you. Now, I can’t make you leave. But, goodbye. I’m going over there. I’ll see you later, I’m sure.

Doubt: You will.

Me. Yeah, you’ll see ME later.

Doubt: Uh-

Me: Yeah. I’ll see YOU later. Trust.

Doubt: Oh-

Me: Yes. Trust.

[casualcloudchaos]

Getting off the struggle bus

I struggle most days

The choice I have is in how

Where what matters most

[casualcloudchaos]

Circle Back

Everytime I circle back to

my grief

I look for a book that

I’m sure

I bought the last time I was grieving

 That book that tells me what I’m experiencing

That book that gives me language for the

energy inside

and the absence of energy outside

 But it’s not there

 I remember a poem, and an article, and

a series of photocopied sheets of paper that

my therapist gave me

the last time I was grieving

Maybe just remembering them is enough because

I don’t know where they are

 And it’s different this time because it’s not the

first time or

the second time

or the third time

I’ve been here many times before so

it’s different this time

 but still I wish there was something

to read

something to do

 but still I’ve been here before so I know

the quickest way through is to not go

anywhere at all

[casualcloudchaos]

#1

Wipe it up

scrub it off

what is this even made of?

What are you using?

Just, it was under the sink

Will it come off?

I don’t know

Can we cover it up?

We can try

It

doesn’t seem to be going anywhere

Maybe it’s fine that it’s here?

No, she doesn’t like when things

look different than they used to

i mean,

this will be fine

but

we won’t

Is it sticky?

No

Flip it over

That’s fine

Will you tell?

I don’t know, I’m already sweating

what were you doing anyway?

It’s, I was just, making a mess

Why?

I was angry

How do you feel now?

Who?

[casualcloudchaos]

Hear me out

Hear me out

My dog serves as training wheels for caring about Myself

 Hear me out

Reading a zine while You poop is a fun way to mix up Your routine

 Hear me out

Call Your routines rituals

 Hear me out

Apologizing unconditionally is a gift

 Hear me out

Tell Your friends You love them but You don’t want to talk

 Hear me out

Dijon mustard on a slice of veggie pizza

 Hear me out

Reading out loud is fun

 Hear me out

My teeth are whiter after eating Your cunt

 Hear me out

Your life grows slowly

 Hear me out

You don’t know anything about the future

 Hear me out

That doesn’t mean You don’t know anything

 Hear me out

Getting out of bed in the morning is the single hardest thing You will do all day

 Hear me out

Everything else is gravy (extra) (bonus)

 Hear me out

You are the most important part of Your life and everything else is gravy (extra) (bonus)

 Hear me out

I already got out of bed today

[casualcloudchaos]

Art

I don’t always know if I’m writing poetry

I know I’m writing

I know I’m writing in that short or long

form where I’m really intentional and thoughtful

or at the very least

consistent or inconsistent

it doesn’t really matter

just

pick a lane

but does it count as poetry?

how fine is the line between a journal and a poem?

Who and How is poetry defined?

Do I even want to know?

Like, kind of,

but why?

because

because I value accuracy and precision with my words

so maybe its a poem

maybe it’s a crafted paragraph in my journal

either way

either way (say it the other way)

Tomato

Tomato (say it the other way)

Potato

Potato (say it the other way)

I call it a

Poem

Poem (say it the other way)

Art

[casualcloudchaos]

Spiritual enoughness

I can only control myself

I can only do what I can

What I can do feels impossibly small

Feels objectively ineffectual

Feels like I’m the only one who will ever know

That I did what I did at all

And everyone says

-whatever you do or do not do is enough-

And I’m like yeah, I hear you,

But also, is it?

Like, from a spiritual perspective, sure, I’m enough, it’s enough,

but,

from a practical, logistical perspective,

is what I do,

is what I’m able to do

is it enough?

And the natural question to that, of course

-enough for what? for who? for whom?(?)

And I’m like, for me! to survive! To keep living! To thrive!(?)

There must be something I’m missing

I want there to be something I’m missing,

so I can find it and I can do it

I want there to be more things that I can do because

I can only control myself and

I can only do what I can

[casualcloudchaos]

Listening

Listening closely

Hearing asks that you need too

Meeting both our needs

[casualcloudchaos]

Fresh Flowers in a Handmade Vase

A vase I made

to hold

the promises I keep:

I love myself.

I am proud of myself.

I am enough.

 Flowers I asked

to listen to

the hopes I whisper:

I trust.

I create.

I dream.

[casualcloudchaos]

short story idea: Journey

Not getting out of bed for myself, getting out of bed for Mack

I live because I’m an animal, and animals strive to live

I live because I want to witness queerness, queer people, transness, trans people, anti-capitalism, anti-colonization, health care for all – I might not got to witness those larger ones, but I live to do my part, my small steps, to create it.