Tell Me How You Really Feel

Write write write!

[marychristmas8]

I love the way the air feels like it’s regulating me

The sand may be blowing into our eyes

But I’ve begun to realize

This is how I want life to be spent,

Content.

I love the way my hair curls from the salty water and warm air

The water may be cold

But from what I’ve been told

I’m right where I need to be,

By sea.

[marychristmas8]

Wouldn’t it be cool if one day my writing is read by others, and you come across it. You have a momentary flashback to our brief love affair. Where we met, talked, walked, listened, learned, and never used the word love. It would have been silly to say, knowing it was all so temporary. Maybe we weren’t ever meant to get to that point. Maybe even with more time, we wouldn’t use the word love. I’m learning the temporality of life. People and feelings come and go, all in good time. So, you’ll smile, feeling proud that I did it. Then you’ll read it and wonder if it’s about you. But it won’t be. You were my first, but you weren’t the one. Just a brief time of joy and change and yes, love, even though we never said so

[marychristmas8]

Manual:

Excuse me?

Can I help you?

Where can I find the manual?

What manual?

You know, the manual on how to do life

I’m afraid I don’t know what you mean, sorry kid

Sir, sorry to bother you but do you know where the manual is?

Manuel? I believe he lives over on Ashbury Avenue

No, not Manuel, a manual, like a handbook that has all the answers

Maybe ask Manuel on Ashbury Avenue, he might know

Excuse me, ma’am?

Yes?

Where did you get your manual?

My manual?

Yes, you know, the book of instructions you were given so you know what to do

She scoffs, I don’t have one

Can someone please tell me where the manual is?

I don’t have a clue what I am doing

I’m unprepared, I’m behind, I’m lost

I didn’t get the manual, I need the manual!

A stranger heard my despair, turned to me, and said,

There is no manual

There is no right or wrong

There is no behind or ahead

Everything is nothing and nothing is everything

So stop looking for instructions and just make up your own

You’re not lost, you are perfectly fine right where you are

[marychristmas8]

What’s more ex-religious guilt-coded than wearing my rainbow socks, reading fairy smut while my vibrator charges, and listening to Ethal Cain?

Someone asked me today if I was religious.

I said no, without hesitation but with regret.

Aren’t I? Wasn’t I? Not that long ago I was reading and annotating Proverbs

Now I read fictional porn

Now I admit I’m attracted to women. The same sex.

Now I feel uncomfortable in church

Now I tear up thinking of queer and trans and women's rights

Now I am repulsed by intimacy

Now I feel resentment and betrayal when I think of Him

Yes, with a capital H or G. Do I keep capitalizing? I have no idea what’s right or wrong

I had faith, strong faith, that got me through

Now I’m lost and angry and sad

But I don’t want to go back

At least not to the way it was

I’m glad people have faith but I’m upset that faith excuses their actions

I’ve spent the last 4 years trying to convince myself I am allowed to exist

It’s no mystery where I got the idea I was unworthy

In my eyes, the cons are outweighing the pros

How much pain can you tolerate for it to be worth it?

How much pain can you allow others to endure for your gain?

The years of comfort I received from God have been traded for years of unworthiness and guilt

[marychristmas8]

Does anyone remember the game Stick Freak? The one where the ninja makes a stick to the length it needs to bridge the gap between two blocks. The lengths change as you go across. If you make the stick too short, you fall through and lose. If you make the stick too long, you go too far and fall off and lose. Getting the stick just right, thats when you cross the bridge safely and keep going. It reminds me of this quote. When you are with someone and you put in the courage to show your true self (you build your stick-length) and you finally let go to show this person. Then all the sudden you fall, you look up and see the bridge you built was too short and you are left alone on the ground. You extended your soul to another in hopes of it reaching and connecting but you fall short. Was I not enough? Was I too much? Am I the weird one? That gap either big or small that caused you to fall is the loneliest feeling. Showing yourself to only be left alone. Being vulnerable about what makes you you and receiving nothing of substance back. It makes you shrink into yourself and look at the world as if you were a small creature who doesn’t fit. It makes you not want to do it again. But how else do you connect? You keep giving up parts of yourself in hopes of being accepted and adored and cherished but more often then not that doesn’t happen. So you keep losing parts of yourself that need to be held until… until you fear the connection you’ve dreamt of experiencing isn’t out there for you. Maybe the connection with yourself is enough, or it has to be, because you’re all you’ve got. So you stand up, you shake off the dirt, and built your stick again. This time you let go and feel the stable contact of the bridge. You pass over the gap without a hitch and look around. Who did you connect with? Nobody is there but you. You got there on your own. You accept and adore and cherish all the parts of yourself because why not. If no one else will, then I will. A connection with myself is better than no connection at all. I can wait around for somebody else or I can show up for the girl who has always needed and wanted me around.

[marychristmas8]

I sit and listen

To all your stories and experiences and feelings. I ask questions and make sure you said everything you wanted to say. When it’s my turn to speak I feel you slipping away. I bring nothing to the table besides my ears and assurance. You do and see and touch and feel while I sit and listen. While I do nothing. While I have nothing for you. It’s funny cause I have so much just not enough. Not enough for you which in turn is not enough for me. I tell myself that one day I’ll be the one with the stories and experiences and feelings. And maybe you will sit and listen. Maybe you will ask questions and make sure I said everything I wanted to say. It’s always one day one day one day one day. Well fuck that. I’m tired of living for the future. I’m tired of living in the hope that it will get better. I’m tired of reassuring myself that I will get my turn. I’m tired of waiting for what is not even a guarantee. Cause what if one day I do have stories and experiences and feelings. But you won’t be around to listen. Cause you waited so long for a friend with something to bring to the table. You got too tired of a boring friend that just listens and never speaks. What if one day you grow out of me. You’ll be the first to leave. And I don’t blame you. I would too if I could

[marychristmas8]

Sometimes I feel like your mom

Like I care too much. The way I end a call. The way I text. The way I think about you all the time. Do you even notice? Do you notice how I say these things because I want you to be happy? I want you to feel my love and know I’m always here. I fear I will say the wrong thing one day and you will leave. But I’ll stay. I’ll always be here. I’ll always listen to you talk. I won’t go anywhere because I’m your mom. Unconditional love. Or is it unrequited love? I’ll always be willing to drop everything for you. I’ll always put you first. I do this in hopes that one day you will do the same for me. Maybe then I won’t be your mom and I’ll finally be your friend.

[marychristmas8]

Just keep writing

Put the words on paper so they don’t come out in tears through your eyes. Hurry write before the feeling sticks. It’s not so bad so let it dissolve. Ow it does hurt and you do want to cry but it’s all going to fade away. Just keep writing. Don’t stop. Don’t go back to reality. Use this paper like a drug and let it wipe the mind clear. Muddle the brain to heart connection. Get up. Blow your nose. Distract. Redirect. Move on. Avoid. No need to feel when you don’t have the time.

[marychristmas8]

Slow game

You go quiet around him. You don’t let him hear your voice so he can’t form an opinion because he should love you with the little he does know because you do for him. It only took a few interactions, a few more and your love might dissolve. So you keep him far away and derive meaning from his soft gaze to get your weekly fix. You fear he will be taken before you get a chance but what if you are playing the slow game. A slow burn that is handcrafted brick by brick with mortar in between that hardens and binds you two together in a way only time could

[marychristmas8]

"There can be no real dangers, and I will not imagine any" - Catharine Maria Sedgwick

affirmation of the week🥲

[marychristmas8]

I don’t want to care about these trivial things.

But everyone else does.

So who’s in the wrong?

I’m strong enough to have my own beliefs

But not strong enough to live by them

So I don’t really believe, do I?

I try to live my own life

But it always ends up being what they want.

I want to be sure, unbothered

But I’m so bothered, so unsure.

What did this make you think about? Comment:)

[marychristmas8]

"Either write something worth reading or do something worth writing."

[marychristmas8]

Why I write

I write because it releases something in my brain. Thoughts, ideas, feelings, dreams, scenarios. I write because I like myself most when I am creative. I write to impress myself. I write to impress others. I write to self-soothe. I write to have my name on something I created. I write to explore. I write to escape reality. I write to get in touch with reality. I write to see my ideas as something tangible. I write to see what I want to see. I write to share my thoughts. I write to make people laugh. I write to engage with people. I write to show appreciation. I write to make up for things. I write to apologize. I write to show appreciation. I write what I can't say out loud. I write what I can't burden on someone else. I write the scary things. I write so I don't feel as crazy. I write to remember. I write to have purpose. I write because I hate math. I write because I speak. I write because I have a lot to say. I write because sometimes only paper is there to listen. I write to feel. I write to not feel anymore. I write to release and absorb. I write to explain and defend. I write when and because I'm alone. I write because people wrote things that made me feel and I want to make people feel.

Why do you write?

[bookreviewcoffee]

Women, they have minds, and they have souls, as well as just hearts. And they've got ambition, and they've got talent, as well as just beauty. I'm so sick of people saying that love is just all a woman is fit for. I'm so sick of it.

[Almost crying] 

 But I'm so lonely...

Jo March little women

[marychristmas8]

The memories come flooding back. The strange feelings that you only feel for them. It all comes back to me. It’s nothing horrible just a slow pain. The kind that ebbs and flows. The kind you immediately forget when out. Not a second longer can take up your precious mind, precious feelings, your truth. It becomes month long periods where you deny yourself the sincerity of experiences. You’re stuck again. Wings clipped. You’ll know, when you get an uncomfortable feeling in your chest, realizing you’re tolerating people’s behavior to keep the peace. Trading one’s peace for another’s. The feelings dissipate when you’re alone. Trading in independence for loneliness. It’s happening again, but you won’t let it get too far cause you deserve better and you’re stronger now so you can take more punches than last time and little by little, the punches will at least be funny cause the right people will help make life one big, silly, significant, lovely joke. A joke that is fully yours because it’s fully your truth.

X

[marychristmas8]

I’ve been told love is easy. I’ve been told love is messy. I’ve been told love is only for the strong. I’ve been told love is only for the weak. I’ve been told love is all that matters. I’ve been told love isn’t always enough. I’ve been told love is painful. I’ve been told love is worth the pain.

At 20, I’ve no idea what to believe. The love I am sure of comes and goes in waves but never leaves. It grows when watered but doesn’t die when ignored. It is never forgotten and rarely questioned. It isn’t all consuming. It is stable, healthy. So then why do I want more? Am I not strong enough for the real thing? Will I drown? Will it be years till I feel it? How do I be satisfied with the love I do have?

It feels I’ll always want more. For now I’ll live vicariously through characters and friends, but some nights it feels my love isn’t enough for me or anyone

[marychristmas8]

“May you attract someone who speaks your language so you don’t have to spend a lifetime translating your soul”

-Nadin Saisir