Beautiful Mosaic

The words flow through my mind
Like the wind through the trees,
Dancing about like leaves on branches,
Flipping and flopping—oh, what a sight.
But this is dyslexia, if you must know.
I read and spell like a jumble, so slow.

My words come out twisted,
Like a tongue twister I can’t tame.
When I try to speak, my thoughts get flipped,
Making people giggle or snarl in shame,
Thinking I’m lazy, or worse—ignorant,
But that’s not it, not at all.

On top of that, my mind races,
A hundred miles a minute,
The creative side taking over,
My vision, a blur, as I try to finish.
Focusing on a task? What is that?
ADHD is what they say,
But I’m not hyper, not today.

At 32, I was diagnosed with this,
They called me lazy, but that wasn’t it.
I try so hard, but the simplest things
Feel like mountains, impossible to climb.
I am misunderstood,
They think I’m dumb,
But deep inside, I am smart,
If only they could see that part.

I’m trapped in a fight,
Yearning for someone to see me,
My heart tangled in a storm,
With all this comes anxiety and grief.
Triggers hit me hard,
But at least I stand,
I guess that’s something to be proud of.

Empty space fills my soul,
A part of me is missing—
My child and his soul,
Who am I behind this mask of pain?
Sometimes, I wonder about that myself.

I’m a puzzle missing pieces,
Maybe one day they’ll see me
Like a beautiful mosaic on the wall,
All of me, not just the broken parts.

The words flow through my mind
Like the wind through the trees,
Dancing about like leaves on branches,
Flipping and flopping—oh, what a sight.
But this is dyslexia, if you must know.
I read and spell like a jumble, so slow.

My words come out twisted,
Like a tongue twister I can’t tame.
When I try to speak, my thoughts get flipped,
Making people giggle or snarl in shame,
Thinking I’m lazy, or worse—ignorant,
But that’s not it, not at all.

On top of that, my mind races,
A hundred miles a minute,
The creative side taking over,
My vision, a blur, as I try to finish.
Focusing on a task? What is that?
ADHD is what they say,
But I’m not hyper, not today.

At 32, I was diagnosed with this,
They called me lazy, but that wasn’t it.
I try so hard, but the simplest things
Feel like mountains, impossible to climb.
I am misunderstood,
They think I’m dumb,
But deep inside, I am smart,
If only they could see that part.

I’m trapped in a fight,
Yearning for someone to see me,
My heart tangled in a storm,
With all this comes anxiety and grief.
Triggers hit me hard,
But at least I stand,
I guess that’s something to be proud of.

Empty space fills my soul,
A part of me is missing—
My child and his soul,
Who am I behind this mask of pain?
Sometimes, I wonder about that myself.

I’m a puzzle missing pieces,
Maybe one day they’ll see me
Like a beautiful mosaic on the wall,
All of me, not just the broken parts.

Heartbreak
Is everywhere like dropped dishes
She sits and sips her coffee
Appears calm and composed
Amid the shattered glass that today was, figuratively speaking
This time

She looks through her memory of today
And finds the pieces of porcelain that have pretty filagrees and bits of flowers
To laugh if she can
She looks aside from the pieces
To see what is not broken
Fixes her eyes on what is whole and real and doing well
She clutches those things in her hands
She has to be careful not to grasp them too tightly
In case even that
Were broken.

She waters plants
She sings songs
She breathes cold air
She plans a garden
She plans a project bigger than this day
She shops for dishes
She is defiantly hopeful

The church ladies said “what a devoted mother”
The neighbor said “your so busy all the time”
Truly
She’s running from one moment to the next preventing disasters & providing cues.
She:
Hugs this child and hopes it is somehow healing to them both
He:
Stares out a window quietly
No words
He is a mystery
Hope is present like a cat that doesn’t like attention.
She is sure
Today was “not that bad”
Brave face to the moon
She is sure
Another day will come
Soon enough.

Sometimes I cry silently beside you
But my tears burn loud like screams
Your ears are so hollow
Like my voice is shallow
I wonder if I’m talking in a dream
Because I don’t feel heard

My concerns bounce off the wall like an empty apartment
My worries shut away in a chest locked with a one of a kind key
Insecurities become secrets because only I listen to them

Hear me
Acknowledge me
Validate me

I’m drowning in your rebuttals
Your disregard seeps through my pores
I choke on your counter neglect

How do we continue on?

My perception of life allows insight into things that are often missed by others.

I choose to be silent, letting my written words say what takes my breath away.

I see the injustices, and relentless undertones. So many are inflicted by a hate that they have never had or known.

All for the sake of being different.

Looking away from a person who may have been born with deformities.
Blind, deaf or lame.
Even those who are impaired mentally.

There are times I burst into tears, but it’s not for me as much as it is for others.

Some consider me to be fragile or too sensitive, not grasping the burden it carries to care.

I feel crushed in return… getting a clearer picture of Yashua, connected by DNA, his blood running through my veins.

“But he was wounded for our transgressions, he was bruised for our iniquities: the chastisement of our peace was upon him; and with his stripes we are healed.” Isaiah 53:5

Yes, Yashua is my brother, and God’s first Son.

I suspect for such an uncommon belief not to be received.

Saddened by the amount of misunderstanding of me it brings.

Aware of the way others look at me. Not so much about beauty, but this certain je ne sais quoi encountered by my presence.

Some have lashed out at me in hopes of a reaction, because I remain composed and calm during times of chaos.

I have been called the “quiet storm”.

Style Score 100%
(prior to final draft)

Dear Unsealed,
I do not know where to begin but I will begin to write as my subconscious dictates the story. I grew up when women did not have rights. Now in 2025 we are back to the same male patriarchal society. I felt very misunderstood throughout my whole life. As an empath and creative personality, I still feel misunderstood around judgmental people
I was led to believe that the man held authority over everything. Back in the fifties white male misogynist pigs dominated it. Now we are back to this same idiocrasy of white men wanting to dominate everyone and everything.
I, and other women were taught to get married, have three babies, buy a house, and serve your man cocktails when he gets home from work. Some households were extremely strict with their women. Women were not allowed to buy a house or buy a car until the 1970s. now we are back here again with white male dominance.
I was married at 20 for a brief period. The marriage was annulled due to incompatibility. The thoughts of some families were to marry their daughters off to a man to take care of them. If one is raised in this culture, you either accept it or rebel against the whit male patriarchy. I rebelled.
I am going to make this into a noticeably short story. My message to women of every culture do not let your man dominate you. Rebel against such nonsense. Men who want to control are very insecure and have severe mental issues of paranoia.
I would not have married the car race guy if my mom had not insisted, I needed to get married to fulfill her dream. I briefly accepted the mentality of that era. I was always in a fight or flight mode for many years.
I suggest to younger ladies do not succumb to the lunacy of a male patriarchal society.
My father was not like that. He wanted me to learn mechanical work. My mom was oh no I could not learn mechanics as I was prima donna girl. My dad and mom had an argument about that issue.
My philosophy is do not let anyone push you into marrying just to get married. Love is love. I am an ally of the LGBTQ people.
I now instruct people: we are one human being species with many cultures, ethnicities, languages, different skin pigmentation, and personalities.
What I learned through my years from 1949 to 2025 is do not let a man talk you into having his babies, especially if you just began to date. That is a red flag of dominance and how the misogynist sees your worth as a woman. I say block him on social media, refuse his phone calls, and ignore him if you see him out and about. Watch for red flags of narcissism in every relationship. If you are the narcissist then crumble the story, throw it away because a narcissist cannot change. If you are an empath, then stay as far away from the narcissist as you can. If you are not either of those personality types, then take heed to watch for red flags to prevent an abusive relationship.
My advice is to focus on your career, go to college, and refuse to acknowledge people who condescend you as a human being. Walk away from a future abusive relationship.
I was boy crazy at ten years old. I read teen magazines and idolized boys in the band. I matured young, as I began puberty at age ten. My advice to me would be to focus on writing for the teen magazine instead of being google eyed over the cuties in the band.
As of now I am 75 years old. I accepted a coffee date with an old guy. I told him someday soon. I have known him for two years. I want platonic relationships and at this age there is no intention of anything but friendship.
This concludes this short story, focusing on one aspect of my life among many others. I have a lot of stories to tell. I shall write them all one day. Perhaps I should include the X-rated too.
I have survived all those relationships as I have learned that I did not always make the right choices. As one grows up to maturity you learn to appreciate the times you made the correct choices and to always remember the consequences of making the wrong choices.

If you feel misunderstood, then analyze the situation or walk away.
Peace everyone!
Be yourself everyone!

Borrowed time, tampered prime, descenigrating lapse of systems.
Taser filled opportunist lumes over sensibility. Exact knowledge of rephrased wisdom. Confiscated mishaps of vengeance paralyzing the, what if. In the midst of flavor verses favor, I prepare a table. Intense undermining of preparation, I convict thee. To serve or not to serve, the facade of the misled. The challenges exceed exhaustive state of forward movement but I stay ready. Tempting thoughts of fragmented steps so you can get ready and when you do, you stay ready!

Life has a funny way of showing you
That everything your family told you growing up
Is mostly true
Our stubbornness
Our hesitation
Our lack of paying attention
Often has us wondering
Once we get older
That the words we once heard
Now echo
As they become clearer
“You can’t please everybody”
Even when I try
I often only end up hurting myself
As a people pleaser
You fail at balancing
The very moment you don’t say yes
You are painted as such a bad person
No is definitely a part of the dictionary
But when you are so used to not saying it
It crushes someone’s spirit
Yet it feels so good
I am free to say no and not feel guilty
Not feel ashamed
Not feel the need to explain
It took a long time to get here
I’m not looking back
I deserve to own my decisions
I choose to not live with regret
I have self respect
How can I please everyone without suffering?
Simple
I can’t
I choose me
And if you can’t understand that
You are not meant to be in my life
Sorry if this offends anyone
But I’m taking my power back
I choose me first
And pleasing everyone is no longer my concern!

I would often hear people follow up a story of generational curses, uncontrolled emotions, disturbing behavior, and unimaginable situations with, “hurt people, hurt people.” I often wondered is that where the story ends? Later in life that statement would sound to me like an excuse. Same as when you hear people say “You know how they are.”

Now at 41, both statements make me cringe as I realize they are just words put together to hinder whomever that hurt person is. I once was a hurt person, unintentionally becoming every bit of the hurt I was complaining about feeling. It was a slap in the face to see that some of the things that hurt me as a child, I had recycled into my own life.

As a child, I struggled in the area of emotions, often time crying when I couldn’t understand certain feelings within me. Appearing on the outside a little off with the constant change of emotions, I found myself displaying anger when I felt vulnerable, weak, or afraid. It had become my defense until I realized I had become a very impatient parent, lashing out at my children when they expressed their true emotions.

I had become the person who didn’t take the time to listen; who was too overwhelmed to care; too quick to shut down and off and too emotionally distant to be the mother my kids needed me to be.

In 2021 I had to face the little girl in me who had thrown temper tantrums when she was hurt; and had shut down when she couldn’t probably process her emotions. I never took the time to be understanding of others when needed. I saw the hurt in my kids’ eyes for the first time and felt what my hurt was doing to them and I knew then they deserved the best version of me, not the generational curses. It was at that moment that I decided that if hurt people could hurt people, HEALED people could HEAL people and I’ve been on the journey ever since.

Dear Friend,

When we hear the word “motto”, we tend to imagine one of two things: either a cliché phrase full of platitudes and empty of meaning, or a lofty ideal too far out of reach. While other people talked about their mottos, I resisted living by one for most of my life. Doing so seemed unoriginal and unrealistic until inspiration struck in the most unlikely place.

The closest thing I have to a motto is a quote by Maya Angelou. “What you’re supposed to do when you don’t like a thing is change it. If you can’t change it, change the way you think about it. Don’t complain.”

I saw that quote for the first time in eighth grade English class. The teacher had us read a section from one of Maya Angelou’s books, an oddly progressive choice for a school in the South in the early 2000s. I remember being fascinated by the story as my classmates took turns reading aloud, but it was that quote that really struck a chord with me. At the time, I was a disabled nerdy kid from a low income family, a prime target for bullies; all of which were completely valid reasons to complain. I never considered how complaining could be a bad thing until I read that quote, but although it made me think, it would be several years until its meaning fully resonated with me.

By late 2010, I’d lost my father and any hope of leading a normal life. I was a young adult suddenly tasked with supporting myself and my mother on a single disability check of about $900 each month. My mother, to put it bluntly, lost her mind when she lost her husband. She barely came out of her room. She didn’t want to eat or bathe, and she refused to do housework or interact with the outside world. The mother who’d always supported me was gone, too wrapped up in her own grief to notice mine.

I had no choice but to push my own emotions aside to provide for us. As hard as it was, I wouldn’t have minded it, had it not been for my mother’s incessant complaining. Every day, I woke up to her ranting about how much she hated her life, her family, the house, the neighbors, the government… you name it, she had something negative to say about it! I tried to ignore it and carry on the best I could, but it became impossible to function in the world when I was constantly reminded of its darkness and cruelty.

Her negativity was contagious. It got so bad that I was angry all the time, and I dreaded having to interact with anyone. One day when I was a captive audience for her ranting, I had an epiphany. As her negative emotions spilled onto me, I thought, Is this how others feel when I complain? I remembered that quote from eighth grade English class, and it inspired me to make a change.

While I couldn’t change our situation or my mother’s reaction to it, I could change myself. I realized that wasn’t the type of person I wanted to be. I didn’t want to suck the joy out of others’ lives; I didn’t want to be the reason someone else fears the world. So I promised myself I’d never do what my mother did. Whatever horrible thing the world threw at me, I would face it on my own and not let it affect others. My problems shouldn’t have to be anyone else’s.

That is not to say my life has been all sunshine and rainbows since then. No, far from it! I have setbacks and down moments just like anyone else. Anyone who says they don’t have those moments is lying to you, and toxic positivity can be every bit as damaging as constant negativity.

As I grow older and hopefully wiser, my understanding of my motto quote grows too. I don’t think the message of “don’t complain” is about ignoring the negative moments in life; it’s about what you do with that negativity. It’s okay to feel down sometimes. It’s not okay to stay down forever, and it’s definitely not okay to drag others down with you.

The next time you hit a low point, I hope you’ll remember that quote and be inspired like I was. Whatever obstacles you face, I hope you find a way to move forward and create something good from it. Good luck and best wishes!

My worn hands feather away the curtain of fog, a forgotten smile hides behind the despair left within me after I was released from the hold of my abusive partner. Invisible scars cover my soul from years of turmoil. My body defeated with exhaustion takes one last step before collapsing into a field of fireflies. A sense of relief pervades my subconscious as I slip into a dream. My past of havoc vanishes into the shadows behind me, presenting a trail of glimmering hope ahead of me. The trail is lined with sparkles of suppressed dreams, frozen ambitions, lost relationships and security. The sky opens above me reflecting a shining glow of my concealed spirit.

Distant chatter awakens me as I see a hand reach down to raise me up. I am surrounded by those that watched my uninhibited spirit confiscated by the mercy of my abuser’s control. A smile unearths from the depth of my heart. I am lifted up as sparkles drop off of my new spirit into the shadow of my past molded into the ground beneath my feet. Wherever I may go, my weightless footprints filled with sparkle and shine replaces the despaired memories fading into my past.

“To live is the rarest thing in the world. Most people just exist, that is all.” – Oscar Wilde
To exist, to have an objective reality, I can just stand and wait.
But to live, what does it truly mean? Spending my days waiting for the time to pass, for the clock tick to be the voice that rules over my head? Most of my life was a waiting game to get older and be able to live, but am I living if I spend my days waiting? What am I worried about other than my time is being wasted?
I decided to start living, truly living. I moved across the country to pursue a dream. Where this dream will take me is only but a risk, a risk so big is it even worth living through? Well, I guess that’s the point, isn’t it? If taking that risk is my way of living then I’d struggle every day rather than existing in a state of comfort. I always thought that living was scary, but that’s the beauty. Taking a risk, doing something out of a daily routine just because it may make you or someone else happy. The clock tick in our heads are at different paces, we may as well try to live. Embracing ourselves and others, loving ourselves and others, truly being ourselves, and allowing others to be themselves.
That’s living.

There are so many good quotes out there, but instead of picking just one, I’m fond of two mottos since they kind of go hand-in-hand:

“Never a dull moment!” and “Boredom is never allowed!”

I would like to take credit for either one but that is not possible. I can’t even remember where I first heard them…. I know I heard them as a teenager. Before anyone picks on me with these two by saying “Well that’s cheesy,” give me a few minutes to hear me out:

We can ALL remember more than one time as a child when we whined, “I’m bored!” Boredom is defined as being uninterested in what you’re doing. It’s not just having that phase as a kid or a teen. It follows us into adulthood. Sometimes, it can become a sad sight as it forms into a bad habit. Even if we were to spend all our free time on social media, we would still find ourselves bored or empty. I feel like boredom steals away the few minutes of being alive, being excited, being creative, being helpful, and enjoying the small hobbies that you can’t stop thinking about doing.

So, what to do with boredom? I remember someone recommended serving and helping others. It can be chores for the tired parent. It can be yard work for the old lady up the street. It can be babysitting the kids for the single mom. It can be tutoring for students struggling behind. It can be doing charity work, shelters, or fundraising. Also, that same person said, “If you’re bored, you’re selfish.” It’s kind of a joke, but also quite true. Whether helping someone or getting back into the hobby you missed so much, there is no room for boredom. It’s even become a home rule in my life.

Maybe we’ve even been to the one place we said was dull, the meeting is dull, or the exact moment is dull. Dull is lacking excitement or lack of interest—-goes well with boredom. Dull is plain, gloomy gray. Sometimes it becomes the word in the mind that tells us, “This sucks.” Let me ask you: does it have to be dull?

Not everything in life has to be dull. For example, there were some quiet days when at work. Not many customers. All shelves have been dusted. The numbers have been counted. Everything is checked, double-checked, and triple-checked. So how do I pass the time? When having a standing job, I danced to the music. I didn’t care if I was being watched, it actually entertained other coworkers watching me dance till they found themselves dancing too. It wasn’t like full-blown crazy party time. I just wouldn’t allow dullness to kick in. It was an opportunity to enjoy the moment.

Finding the doors of the sweet things of life, and shutting the doors of boredom and dullness, will bring pure joy if you allow it. It can be found in your job. It can be found in your free time, at home, with your family and friends, anywhere. You don’t have to wait for the opportunity, make and be the opportunity. I don’t consider myself smart. But I do know that life is short, and a lot of wasted time is being flushed away. We need to make room for problem-solving. Take time to enjoy time with others. Carry the torch in helping the communities. Find and do the small steps. It will lead to big steps, making a difference in our lives, and in others.

Tupac said long live the rose that grew from concrete when no one else even cared
I am a concrete rose
My seed was planted in darkness and I was lost
Every root digging deeper down not knowing this was building a strong foundation
A little sliver of sunlight through a tiny window
A little sprout out the crack of cement
What’s out here? There’s so much room
Maybe I’ll just stay down here
But I couldn’t help but to think
What’s out there?
What can I turn into?
My mind was set
I decided to bloom
Yeah sunlight is cool but who says sunlight must come from the sun?
I am my own sun and my light comes from within
Yeah it’d be cool to have someone water me but people walk in and out this room
Guess what?
Theres no watering being done
Nobody cares
So now I choose to water myself
Woah look at me
I’m growing so beautifully
Strong roots, healthy leaves, vibrant roses
My roots lift me up and move me somewhere new
I am now a rose bush
I survived and outgrew that very dark room
I am free