Dear 20-year-old me,

So, you flunked out of college
And lost your one true love.
You think you’re lazy, dumb, despicable –
Another useless maggot of our society –
A cancerous tumor bulging up,
Pressing upon our dying Mother Earth.

I know you’re sadly stuck
In the ultimate, existential catch 22.
Claim death,
And stab a dagger in your parents’ hearts.
Keep breathing,
And burden them all as you suffer.

Hold my hand and listen close
As I tell you of another way.
I will show you a path to living.
You can shed your sickly skin.
What is held within you
Is brighter than the darkness
Blacking out your soul.

The trick is not to push harder,
But rather to ease into yourself,
Relax into all that scares you,
Recover what hides and haunts.
Only then can you dig out the dirt.
Take time to purge, so as to heal.

Be patient with the process.
Transformation is within your reach,
But the grabbing is slow and arduous.
Like the alien-nymph buried in the mud,
You will one day emerge anew
With wondrous wings to take flight.

Oh, the lands you will discover!
Your adventures are only beginning.
Every part will piece you together.
Each experience, food for your growth.
You may think you’re outrunning the beast,
But really, you’re steering your wild heart.

Someday you’ll be the touchstone,
The teacher, the leader, the inspiration
For those you’re yet to meet,
But who will find their own way through you.
Your butterfly effect will ripple forth,
Brightening the worlds of many beings.

So, please, my dear former self,
Don’t discard or disregard who you are.
There’s more to us than you know.
You’re a dragonfly in waiting,
Temporarily buried in the muck,
Simply preparing for life in the sun.

Sweet sixteen has fallen dead,
Just as I should have
When I slit my wrist,
Not to die,
Just to find some placation.
So much for that.
To the ER I went anyways.

Now my “friends” have disappeared.
It must be contagious –
This virus spreading through my soul.
My heart has surely rotted.
My mind likely insane.
No one has stepped up to help.

You say you’re forty today?
Ha!
No way you’ve made it that far!
But if it is true,
How?
Why?

I beg of you…
Give me a reason
To keep on living
Through this agonizing pain.
I feel like I’m drowning
In a lake of fire,
As they all laugh around me.

Why was I born
Into this decrepit world
With only a strong will
To see it,
While all else pollutes it?

I am only one.
And I am small,
Broken,
Old before conceived,
Tired and weary.
What can I possibly give
That’s worthwhile?

I beg of you –
Ancient me,
Give me one reason
To keep on living.
For this world is not
Suited for me.
I have been shunned.
I have been mocked.
Worst of all –
I am invisible.

Style Score: 100%

For nine months I was unemployed,
Long enough to make a baby,
But no human grew inside me.
Rather I was pregnant with possibilities.
The possibility of full-time teaching.
The possibility of a new career path.
The possibility of becoming a paid writer.
But also the possibility of life-long dead-end jobs
Or accepting I was too ill to work at all.

My first – and last? – teaching position
Wore me down to the bones of my soul.
I had spent sleepless nights planning spectacular lessons
That turned into chaos in the classroom.
Staff who welcomed me with gusto
Soon turned their backs
As I flailed to manage student behaviors.
Nine-year-olds cursed my existence –
“Stupid dumbass bitch!”
“Fucking racist cunt!”
And the unforgettable, “Crooked eyeliner wearing, emo wannabe, cracker bitch!”
So I gave, gave, gave more of my heart
Until those same kids showed me love.
Hugs in the hallway,
Pictures, cards, and candy started flowing in.
They got me through.

But it wasn’t enough to garner the grace
Of admin, who,
At the end of the year,
Told me I wasn’t up to snuff,
That they didn’t want me another year.

Doubt grew inside me
As the passed stress formed into trauma.
Time lingered on,
My hands shaking at the thought
Of ever teaching again.
Those who can’t do, teach, they say.
But how about those who can’t teach either?
Giving up – really giving up –
Crossed my mind.
But I didn’t.
I had help to pull myself back up.
I worked my weakened muscles.
I dove into the inner recesses of my mind,
Dug up the dirt and revitalized forgotten parts.

After three long seasons,
Just as the ice was melting,
I re-entered the classroom.
First as an occasional sub,
But then as something more.
A teacher up and quit and I was the most equipped
To take her place.
Afraid, but brave, I stepped up to the plate.
Tender-toed and wary still,
I didn’t quite trust at first my abilities.
I needed the encouraging words
Of my new cohort.
And they delivered.
“The students love you!”
“What a great lesson!”
“Good job thinking on your feet!”
I found again my confidence
And trusted my instincts.
I remembered why I love teaching.
There were still the challenging behaviors
And occasional curses from angry children,
But it wasn’t breaking me down.

This time I wasn’t holding back either.
I had the best school subject,
A ton of ideas,
And enough passion to infect the most apathetic teenager
With enthusiasm.
I got permission to take students to the garden –
Our garden! –
The one my husband and I started for the community,
But until then, was mostly unappreciated.
Every week, each class learned firsthand
The wonders of growing your own food.
Prima donnas in high heels saved worms.
The outcasts found fame in the ever-impressive broad fork.
The boys who refused to work in class
Shoveled the hardest.
It didn’t take long before my students
Begged for garden days.

I continued the education on classroom days too.
They learned the meaning of organic,
The difference between selective breeding and genetic engineering,
And the adaptations of wild plants.
I collected all sorts of materials for projects and experiments.
There was no money in the school budget,
But the community donated everything
From tape dispensers to gardening gloves.

I wasn’t just blossoming as a teacher,
But was also finding my own important niche
In my hometown –
Where I had only lived for five years
And was usually known as my husband’s wife.

My nerves still stir at times,
Like an actor approaching the stage.
Stress is no stranger either.
But for the first time,
I’ve found belonging.
Like the marigold seeds
Kids unfurled from dead pods,
I have landed upon rich soil
And am only now beginning to bloom.

(ProWriting Style Score: 100%)

“Haha!” my mother laughed.
“You must have interesting karma
To look so young and be so old inside.”
Yes, funny, but no haha funny.
I thought at three feet tall.

I’m still waiting for the curse
To turn into a blessing,
But at thirty-nine I’m tired of it all,
Tired of being carded,
Tired of parents mistaking me for another student,
Tired of no one taking me seriously.

I was born into the world
With visions of the distant past,
Ideas for the fragile future,
And keen observations of our present state.
I did not want to play.
I wanted to fix the human race.
I wanted to repair the planet.
I wanted all the fighting and destruction to stop.

No wonder by third grade
I’d given up.
Years of trying to inform and guide the way
Wasted on the blissfully ignorant,
Who laughed in my face
… or worse,
Beating me down into despair.

They only saw a child,
Who was meant to listen and obey,
But in my mind I was wise and weary,
Ready to fall on my own sword
If it couldn’t cut through the apathy and greed
Growing thick around me.

Time slid by slowly scratching down
My patience, hope, vitality.
Yet no amount of hard living,
All the falls and blunders,
The drugs and self-destruction,
Could gray my hair nor wrinkle my skin.
My baby cheeks never caved in
And my figure barely fattened.

So I return sweet smiles
Looking down on my false youth,
Pretend I’m who they think I am.
Only you now know the truth –
That I’m tough as nails,
Sharp as a tac,
And hardly innocent.

Oh, my dear tattered T,
How I love you so.
Found in a mall long ago
Among Hot Topic’s tableau,
Catching the eye of this young esthete.

Captivated by your design,
The notes all twirling ‘round,
Playing some mysterious sound,
A song to sing, but left unfound,
With only a skull to sign the by-line.

Many years have you sustained
To class, concerts, meets, and more,
Meeting the eyes who so adore
Your splendor without glamor,
Becoming threadbare but never stained.

Snugger than you were before,
Hugging my frame much tighter.
These days you feel lighter,
But you stay strong, my fighter,
Filling me each wear with ardor.

Some may say your time has come,
That you’re better fit for the grave,
No longer the current rave,
Not worth another save.
Still, I think you’re awesome.

The View

Wow, it’s insane how the world looks at you .
Do you think you’ll be enough for maybe one or two.
Is it too much to ask to see you just more than once?
I can’t imagine what you have to go through inside to present yourself
These people must be dunce if they don’t want you.

I love opening the door and smelling your scent
The smell is on my pillow from having you close to me
If I have you too much, I might have to repent

I’m super lucky to have you all to myself
I’m not selfish, but with you, I have to be .
You’re so fit, dark like chocolate, juicy meat on your body.
I rather have you any day over a plate of shellfish.

Do you know when I fell in love with you?
I fell in love with you as a child.
I took one look at you and said “you’re going to be all mine “and that’s true.
I couldn’t wait to become an adult and see how you grew. How you flourished.
I love you even more as an adult.
Who would have known.

People fight over you all the time.
I can’t blame them.
You pair so well with a glass of wine.
I love seeing you come out, and it’s actual steam coming out of you because you’re so dam hot !
You’re beautiful, soft and well matured.
You’re moist and refreshing and the best cure.

The scent of cloves as you walk by
The smile on my face when I see you.
When we are in a restaurant, and I’m with my friends, I count the minutes to see your sexy blend.

You sit well on top of colored grains
My heart can’t take it anymore.
I’m going to go insane.
As you come over to me, I lose everything in my brain.
Is this what actual love feels like?

I enjoy you, I love you, and I can’t get enough of the view.

I have to have you
I’m sure you do too.
Look at you!
Look at that view!
Oxtails, rice and peas with plantains too!

Fighting My Fear

To the monster at my tail,
The all-consuming darkness,
The demon eating me from the inside out,
My persistent bipolar depression –
Know that you will always fail.

You grabbed me when I was small,
Still innocent and naïve,
Oblivious to your existence,
Just trying to grow and get along.
How swiftly you made me fall.

The first battle you almost won.
You withered away my body and soul,
Tricked me into paranoid isolation,
Carried me willingly towards death,
Made me think that you and I were one.

Somehow, I grew stronger,
Shed off your heavy skin,
Almost retrieved my childhood,
Discovered who I really was,
Lingered without you a short time longer.

Then you slyly snuck back inside,
Returned with a vengeance like cancer,
The tumors hidden, but painful,
Taking over my mind and spreading fast.
I thought I had died.

Again and again, you returned,
Both of us fiercer each time.
Each of us learning new tricks,
Straying further away from sanity,
So far away from those concerned.

Yes, you almost won the war.
More than twice I nearly died.
You stole my memories,
But I remembered what mattered.
I got in touch with my inner core.
 
Day and night, I labored away,
Building a new me without you,
Still rubbing out your stain.
I always thought I was strong and tough,
But I had failed to keep you at bay.

I worked muscles long forgotten,
Learned how to love and trust –
Not you, but myself, and select others.
Living became bearable, more navigable.
With my growth, you began to rotten.

Honestly, I still fear you,
Weak and small as you’ve become.
I continue to build my defenses,
Recruiting more soldiers for our next fight.
When you do return, I know what to do.

Pro-Writing Aid Style Score: 79%

Another turn around the sun has begun
And I must greet it with gratitude and ambition.
Can I make my fortieth round worthwhile?
With enough effort, luck, and gumption… perhaps.

First, I’ll quit the habit
Of sucking toxins into my lungs,
The smoke so unappealing
To my dear loved ones.

Second, I’ll sleep soundly,
So as to follow the sun,
Arising in the dewy dawn
And dreaming under the moon.

Third, I’ll train my brain
To stay sane and focus,
Focus on the words of each page,
One after another until I’ve completed a book.

Fourth, I will grab that pay,
Earned fairly and duly with grit,
In a position only I could play
For my gifts will finally be seen.

Lastly, I’ll return to the wilds,
With all my needs on my back,
Traversing mountains and rivers,
Curling down nightly into the earth.

Imagine what could be with these goals achieved.
All the good – and not just for me.
A stronger body and a stronger mind
Will contribute endless gifts to society.

This time, for 2025,
I’m bold enough to dream
and water the seeds
I’ve been planting for 27 years.

I’ll make a faultless plan,
calibrate the stars to align again and again
like I’ve been hoping for.

I’ll make that meal plan, hit the gym, and drink less
because everyone told me I can, until I regress
and think of her again.

I’ll write that novel that I’ve sworn I’d finish,
half sprouted and waiting on ideas to flourish
out of my overworked and overwhelmed heart.

This time, for 2025,
I’ll keep my house clean
for all of the people that I hope can see
a sign of life thriving.

I’ll keep a budget
and stop saying “screw it”
when I need a fix just to calm down for a moment.

I’ll make that record full of screaming and singing
over an acoustic guitar, dreaming
of what love I’ve gained and lost so suddenly.

This time, for 2025,
2024 has kissed us goodbye,
the hurt and the triumph coincide
as a juxtaposition for growth.

forty-five pounds of me has already fallen off
but I still want more, as if I have not
given myself permission to acknowledge my own victories.

I will no longer live life in cliche and trope
that everyone cyclically promises and fails on a new year; in 2025 I can see that hope
is the recognition of seeds planted, no matter how long it takes the trees to grow.

This time, for 2025,
I’m bold enough to hope,
bold enough to dream
and water the seeds
I’ve been planting for 27 years.

As I drive the trees wrap around my view
Of the winding road
I’ve been dropped in a kaleidoscope
Trapping me in this peaceful, natural oasis
The sun shines through the leaves
Shading the variety of colors into a hundred more
And placing a delicate warmth upon my skin
While crisp air twirls my hair mischievously
And the houses sprinkled into the long stretches of fields
Greet me with future ideals
And the bright blue sky sneaks a peek at me
In curiosity

I am not sure where I will go
But this is why I do
This moment
Reminds me to live
Reminds me to breathe
Simple beautiful things

The colors from the day take their leave
And the stars hide behind the clouds
The darkness turns the trees into silhouettes
Painted onto the sky
The air is cold and damp
A tender wind whispers in my ear
As the street lamp’s lights dance on the water
A walk with the group
No one really together
But no one really alone

The night simply is what it always has been
But it’s like each facet of its inherent nature
Was made to be admired by me
And how lucky to be me
I slow my pace
And watch them from behind
How lucky to be me

I am not sure where I will go
But this is why I do
This moment
Reminds me to live
Reminds me to breathe
Simple beautiful things

Amongst the others
One holds my attention
My eyes always chasing him
In every room we’re in
As his voices crashes into my ears
I am reminded
Not only my mind
But my entire body
I can not hide behind
The roles I’ve played to pleased
I am whole to him
He lets everything I am rest in his arms

Hours pass by like a sparse wind on a summer day
There is a sense of pride
When I foster his childlike laughter
And earn the soft serious honesty
But I feel the minutes begin to slip away
And I focus my gaze towards the ground
Allowing my hair to cover my glossy eyes
My hearts sprints off from the anticipation
Of our always fleeting time
Making my voice taste insincere and bitter
He instructs me to face him
And though my mind hesitates
My body has already begun to listen

He flashes the most particular smile
I’ve studied his many faces
This one is rare
One truly made for me
One of comfort and reassurance
It’s not candid, nor forced
But purposeful and true
It’s a hundred words in one silent action
It’s a hundred miles of distance wiped away in one close movement
I wish my eyes could take pictures
To capture this face
For it to never fade,
Never change
Forever stay still in my memory
But the only stillness is under the weight
Of another goodbye

Every natural instinct would have me run
Feel the wind wash away the numbing pain
But with you
I must fight
I must let my tears burn my face
I must let my hands stab me in the back
To pull you closer
I must conquer the following fear of loss
For this feverish feeling of love
He is-
Our friendship-
These feelings only mustered by him-
The thoughts that only his hand can hold-

I am not sure where I will go
But this is why I do
This moment, every moment we share
Reminds me to live
Reminds me to breathe
Because I can only hope to be
What you are to me
By just existing
My simple beautiful thing

the body of the goddess

the silk tan skin
the gentle sweet kisses

slid them off
slid on me
tongue locks tongue tied tenderly

pulse in chest because
i can’t lose you
a silly excuse when she’s half naked.

slid off me
slid them on
carried to the door, laughter explodes

i love you

drive safe