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my heart woke me crying last night 'how can i help' i begged my heart said 'write the book' -rupi kaur Hello world! I'm untitled, aspiring author. If you like what you see, please share and help me to become an author!

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Posts

Confused

Trying too hard to understand that I’m somehow not trying enough.

Too controlling with ideas but completely clueless to any idea at all.

Too dependent to be my own adult, but can’t be dependent on someone by choice.

I’m too mean to him, but the good things are never enough for you to listen to.

Follow the rules, but do your own thing.

Be original, but stop being so weird, so strange.

You’re asking me two plus two and getting mad when I say four.

How do I be enough without being too much?

Turned Out

You say we turned out just fine, but I don’t think that’s true.

I turned out with good grades, and I went to college. I got hired for jobs and I was a hard worker. I found someone to love and paid my bills on time. I turned out just fine.

But I turned out broken and bruised.

I turned out depressed and anxious and hating myself and feeling like everyone else must too.

I turned out stressed and lonely and unsure of everything I do or say.

I turned out confused and scared.

I turned out abandoned and unfriended. I turned out dumped and abused. I turned out assaulted and traumatized.

I didn’t turn out fine, I turned out fucked up.

What is poetry? It is the words on a page,

Written out by syllables, counting the line, the rhyme on the end?

Is it the beauty of a short writing,

Telling a tiny story that leaves you feeling more whole than before?

Is it the art of the writing,

That’s somehow more artistic than other stories?

Is it the feeling of reading it,

Of understanding and wondering simultaneously?

Is it the emotion of a poem,

The pulls to your heartstrings that make you feel known?

Who is poetry?

Is it the writer or the reader?

The one who pours their heart or soul or maybe just their brain?

Or is it the one who feels it in their own?

What is poetry?

I never claimed to know what I was doing. I never claimed to be an expert in anything. I never claimed to know jack shit. So why is it such a surprise when I find out I was wrong. When this isn’t the right path. When I can’t figure it out at all. Why does it shock you to hear that I’m lost, stuck, broken down?

Why do you tell me this time I’m wrong, when before I never even made the decision. Why can’t my decision be alright, at least to try? Is it because I’m a disappointment? Is it because I made so many mistakes you don’t want there to be another? Is it because you hoped for perfect children and can’t seem to get that right?

Why must I always be wrong to you? Is it because I’m a failure? Or because you failed to make me perfect?

To A Father.

You are not a dad, you are hardly a father. You are not caring, or loving like you claim. I am not your daughter, your child. I am not bitter or resentful or hateful. Because you can’t be a father from a thousand miles away. Because you can’t care for someone and love them while ignoring them for 12 years. Because you can’t be a daughter to someone you’ve never known. Because you can’t hate someone you don’t know. You can’t be a family to someone you’ve never known. You can’t pretend you’ve cared all this time. So call me bitter, call me hateful. I will let you die knowing you’ve lost your only daughter. Because you never had her in the first place.

Family

I've been thinking about marriage a lot lately, as I've been invited to multiple weddings this next year. And I've come to realize that you don't marry a person. You marry a family.

I have found the man of my dreams, and have known that for years. But more than that, I've found a family that treats me like their own. A family that supports me more than my own at times.

I think back to feeling awkward in their home. Being scared to talk in front of his parents. Until one day, his mom hugged me. I felt comfortable with them. I could chat and joke with the family.

I occasionally asked my boyfriend if his family actually liked me. But I've learned the answer first hand this year. I've gone on vacations with them. I've sat with them for family dinners and holidays, joked with his brothers, told stories and heard stories. When his family hit hardship, I felt it too. For the first time, I referred to them as my family too.

And this Christmas, I recieved the best gift of all. At the end of the night, as we were headed home, I got hugs from the entire family. It's the simplest thing, but I finally truly feel like part of the family.

I'm in love with this man and can't wait to spend forever with him. But I'm also amazed and grateful for the family I gained along the way.

Victim

The thing about being a victim is that everyone feels bad for you. Everyone tells you “I’m so sorry that happened” or “That must have been hard” or “I can’t imagine” and they make you the victim. They think they’re sorrow is what you need, but it’s not. They think you need to be helped and held through it, but you don’t. Everyone says “I’m sorry.” but no one tells you “You’re so strong.” They make you the victim instead of the strong person you really are.

The thing about being a victim is that your story never ends. You never get to the point that your story no longer should be told, but you lose the ability to tell it.

I tell my story not to be pitied, I tell my story so you can see how strong I am.

I tell my story not to be pitied, but people watch what they say around me anyways.

I tell my story because I am strong, yet somehow it makes everyone see me as weak.

I am no victim. I am strong. I don’t want your sorrow, I have my own strength.

I tell my story, because I am stronger than you will ever know.

Blessed Am I

Blessed Am I to have a friend like you, To have someone who I can talk to about anything; Who I can talk to for hours on end.

Blessed Am I to have a supporter like you, To have someone who tells me my ideas are wonderful; Who sees the light in me when I don’t.

Blessed Am I to have a guide like you, To have someone who tells me the path I’m taking is perfect; Who guides me even when you don’t know the path yourself.

Blessed Am I to have a family like you, To have someone who is a home in a person; Who makes me feel safe and loved anywhere I go.

Blessed Am I to have you in my life, To have and to know someone so wonderful;

Oh, how did I get so lucky to be your friend?

#Jenna #I love you

“I should write a book of poetry” she thought.

And so it began...

#writing #poetry #poetry book #author #aspiring author #writeblr #Untitled Document

Happiness Is...

Naps in the arms of the one that makes you feel whole.

#happiness is #happiness #happy #writeblr #Untitled Document

Happiness Is...

Calligraphy pens and washi tape and the feeling that you can do (and make) anything.