I sit with my internal child outside on the stairs, because I know she wants me to.
She giggles so softly.
Her dimples shine so brightly.
She tells me about her day on the playground swing.
We share a bowl of cheetos, the puffs kind.
We make pictures out of the clouds in the sky.
She sees a puppy. I see a pig.
We even forget about the thing of time.
We get lost in the freshness of Spring air.
Dreaming of what the fields of life has in store for us.
I sit with my inner child outside on the stairs because all she wants is individual love.

If we’re playing a game of “I believe,”
I’d like to believe there are past versions of me that get together for frozen yogurt.
They all talk about who I once was
And how I’ve hit all those curveballs of life out of the park.
They don’t “boo” the swings.
Yell rude comments.
Or bring up some of the strikes I’ve received.
They meet for frozen yogurt and cheer me on every single day.
During every single game of life played.

Outside my body
Looking in
It’s time to alert
My last of kin

I’m not myself
Think I’ve gone crazy
The last few days
Have been quite hazy

What am I thinking?
Have I gone nuts?
I’m acting insane
And I’m dressed like a slut

My middle finger
In the air
I’m drunk by noon
And i’ve cut my hair

Couldn’t give a fuck less
If I get in trouble
Speed limit’s 30,
I’m doing double

Blaring music
Hysterically screaming
Everything’s foggy
I must be dreaming
Met up with some new friends
Guess it’s high time to go ghost
On the people around me
That care about me the most

They’ll know exactly
What this all means
They’ll try and stop it
And I’ll cause a scene

My mom will exclaim
“Oh, fuck, she’s gone manic!”
And when you look at her face
You can see she’s started to panic

But what everyone here
Is failing to realize
Is that a manic episode
Is like winning the grand prize

I’m having a great time
I just quit my job
I’ve pounded a fifth
And i’m making kabobs

I don’t wanna come down
I don’t wanna stop it
Won’t take medication
So you might as well drop it

So I’m watching my alter
Destroy all that I’ve built
She won’t even slow down
Doesn’t understand guilt

Give it a week
And I’ll snap back to reality
But I’ll be so fucking depressed
That I’ll crave that mentality

No one can wake me
For almost a week
But when they finally do
I’m empty and bleak

I’d rather be mental
Blissfully crazy
Than low, sad, or sleepy,
Vacant and lazy

It’s no easy task
Living life with bi-polar
Cause when she gets on a good one
Even I can’t control her

Style Score: 80

Dear Unsealed,
PSYCHOLOGY OF PROJECTION
The theory of the psychology of projection is a phenomenal viral situation in 2024.
There are people who project their ill feelings, anger, insecurities onto the closest empath standing in their way.
You spewed obscenities at me that day
As you do everyday
you blame me for your failed attitude
that is not subdued
I ask you why
Why do you project your insecurities onto me
You reply
It’s all your fault
It’s my fault you say
No, you just caught
In another lie
I sigh
Why?
You yell at me
You are nothing to me
So, let it be
I cry
I say
No
I could be your fake friend
Until the end
So, then you yell
To me
Not let it be
But cruel words of anger
That makes you a danger
To my world
To your world
To all worlds
As you carry on
With your blaming me
For your misdeeds
Of unconscious reprimanding me
Or any other empath
The victim of your wrath
You are jealous and angry
You sit around spewing obscenities
Of hate and bigotry of amenities
And talents of other people on Earth
So, tell me,
For what it’s worth
How do you wake up everyday
To your vile words of insanity
Of what may be your reality
To trash the Earth
With your dark soul
Of cruel intentions of old
As your soul was sold
To the vile fiery hell of hades
Of your life of death,
Here what I say.
Your dark empty vessel of skin
Can not win
You are the demon of Earth
For what it’s worth
You are not anything
You are a blank empty soul
Of nothing
But your lies
Your ego
You cry, you scream
At me
Let it be
You are the epitome of humanity
Garbage dump
Dump Dump

I met my younger self on a Sunday morning in a church parking lot.
She looked as if she just saw God.
Hair golden blonde.
Eyes piercing blue.
Sun beaming on her young face.
She ran up to my car and jumped in the passenger seat.
Touching every button.
Opening every compartment.
Smiling.
Dimples radiating so big.
She looks over at me and with a smile as big as a car tire, she tells me, “We did it!”
She gives me such a huge hug, one that felt as if it was building up for years.
Smiles at me with such accomplishment.
Opens the car door and gradually skips away to the beat of her own drum.
As I watch that little girl skip away, I acknowledge her happiness.
Her joy. Her fulfillment.
I acknowledge the fear that once guarded her.
As I watch that little girl skip away, I remind myself that every achievement is not just for me, but for her as well.
She deserves the world.
She deserves achievements.
She deserves this moment right now.
Right here in the church parking lot.

Hold my hand. Gently grab these fingers and walk with me.
I have something to share with you.
Let’s go for a walk.

I know it’s in your nature to save me. To protect me.
I’m here to let you know, it’s okay.
I understand your job, but right now, your job is on hold.
I’ve got this now.
It’s time for you to take a break.

I know it’ll be hard for you to come to terms with it, but I’m okay.
I’m safe now. I’ve found the middle ground.
You don’t need to cover me with your comfort shield.
I’ve got this. I promise.

You can go lay down and rest.
Shut your eyes.
Silence the noise.
Relax.

Sincerely,
Me

Dear Young Anita,

I just want to tell you that this life you are about to walk into—it won’t be easy. It will be shaped by your search for love, by your desire to be seen, understood, and cherished. From the very beginning, you will long for a love that feels safe, a love that feels like home. And because of that longing, you will make mistakes.

When you step out of high school, the first boy who tells you that you’re beautiful will catch your heart. Not because he is meant for you, but because you’ve never had that kind of attention. Your father loves you, yes, but you never truly understood what love meant outside of him. You didn’t know that real love doesn’t make you question. It doesn’t make you chase. It doesn’t make you prove your worth.

You will go through life choosing wrong, thinking that love comes with sacrifice, with giving too much, with buying things, overextending yourself—just to feel wanted. You will bend, you will break, you will carry the weight of others who never deserved to hold you.

But God sees you.

God will hear your prayers, even when you don’t know what you’re asking for. And when He answers, it won’t come in the way you expect.

Your first child will be a boy. You always wanted a girl, but God said no. He needed you to experience unconditional love, not the kind of love that left you wondering. He needed you to feel a love that is pure, unshaken, and constant. A son’s love for his mother.

And when you still don’t get it, He will give you another boy. Because you still haven’t learned what love truly is. You were still searching for it in people, in places, in relationships that were never meant to last. But these two boys? They will teach you what love looks like—what it means to be cherished without conditions, without proving yourself.

Even through the heartache, the rejection, the loneliness, you will always have them. They will remind you of your strength when you feel weak, of your worth when the world tries to dim your light.

But Anita, here’s the truth that will set you free: The love you’ve been searching for has always been within you.

You are love.
You are enough.
You are worthy.

No man, no relationship, no outside validation will ever define you. You define yourself. And when you finally align with the right energy—the right love, the right peace, the right abundance—it will all come to you effortlessly. Because it was always meant for you.

You got this, Anita. Even in your darkest moments, you got this.

With the deepest love,
Future You

Life has a way of forcing you into stillness. When everything around you crumbles, when the weight of the world feels unbearable, when you’ve given all of yourself and still feel empty—you are left with two choices: break, or rebuild.

I won’t lie. There were moments I felt like breaking.

I have battled PTSD, bipolar disorder, mood swings, and depression. Some days, I could barely pull myself out of bed. Some days, I felt like I was drowning in emotions I didn’t have the strength to explain. And yet, the world kept moving. Responsibilities didn’t stop, expectations didn’t pause, and people still pulled from me, unaware that I was running on nothing.

Last year tested me in ways I never imagined. I ended a relationship I deeply wanted. One I poured my soul into. And it broke me. Not just the loss, but the realization that I had given so much of myself, yet I was never truly seen, never truly valued. I walked away with nothing but exhaustion, drained of my love, my energy, and my spirit. And then, life didn’t give me time to heal. The weight of being out of work, the unexpected surgery, the long recovery, the piling responsibilities—it all came at once. I thought I could handle it. I thought I could push through, but when my body failed me, when I could no longer do the things I once did effortlessly, I had no choice but to sit in it. To feel everything I had been running from.

Preparing for my son’s graduation should have been a moment of excitement, a moment of celebration, but instead, I found myself withdrawing. I just wanted to be alone. I couldn’t explain it, but I didn’t want to be around people. That’s when I knew—I had to go back to therapy. I had to see my psychiatrist, get back on my medication, and take control of my mental health again. Because no matter how much I prayed, I had to also take action. Healing isn’t just spiritual—it’s mental, emotional, and physical.

And then this year, the surgery happened. I thought it would be simple. Something I could bounce back from quickly. But this surgery was nothing like I expected. It forced me into yet another level of surrender, another layer of patience, another reminder that healing has no shortcuts. I cry a lot. I get emotional, and sometimes it feels like the world is changing too fast, yet somehow, it also feels like we’re moving backward. There’s so much hate, so much anger, so much division. And as I get older, I realize that time moves whether we are ready or not. I used to picture myself in a different place by now. I thought I’d be married, settled, moving in a rhythm that felt secure. Instead, I find myself constantly adjusting, constantly learning, constantly relearning how to exist in this world.

And January—it never gets easier. In 2020, I lost my father. In December 2021, I lost my child. That kind of pain never truly leaves. It lingers. It shifts. Some days, it’s a whisper. Some days, it’s a storm. I wanted that baby so bad. So bad. And sometimes, that grief still knocks the air out of me. No matter how much time passes, I still feel the loss. I still cry. And I still ask God why. But through it all, my faith remains my anchor.

I am deeply spiritual. I trust in the Most High. I believe in the power of prayer, in the power of divine alignment. Not a day goes by that I don’t pray. I pray through my pain, through my uncertainty, through my grief. I light my candles. I speak to my ancestors. I trust that even in my hardest moments, I am never truly alone. And my advice to anyone experiencing something similar—love yourself first, pour into you, work on your healing, seek therapy, sit with your emotions, stop running. Search spiritually for God, pray, meditate, trust in divine timing. Don’t let your situation break your spirit. You are stronger than you feel in this moment. Always take a break for your mental, physical, emotional, and spiritual health. You cannot pour from an empty cup. Love will always come. You won’t have to chase it. You won’t have to question it. When it’s meant for you, it will align effortlessly. And above all, life is short—so enjoy it. Live. Love. Heal. Breathe. Be present.

I am still learning, still healing, still growing. But what I know for sure is this: I will not break. I will rise. I will love again. But this time, from a place of wholeness. And when the time is right, when my spirit is aligned, when my heart is open and whole—love will find me. Not through force. Not through desperation. But through divine alignment.

In the river of time, we drift and glide on life’s current, side by side.
We flow together, bound by routines and survival’s embrace, with some finding solace in their pace and others who bear burdens, heavy and wide.
Yet despite our different paths, the goal for all remains unchanged, to stay afloat and abide.

We journey on this temporal stream, experiencing moments both shared and a dream.

For me, floating adrift for nearly three decades, it was in my recent path that I set myself ablaze,
consumed by flames of renewal, a heart reborn. In time’s river, I’ll continue to soar.

In the scorch, I let myself burn, shedding the old, bitter me that yearned to extinguish God’s goodness within.
Anger and resentment threatened to consume,
plunging me into dark, endless gloom.
Yet, like a phoenix, I rose anew, enlightened, with self-awareness shining through.
From the ashes, l emerged, reborn and free,
snuffing out the flames that once consumed me.

As I rise, the future’s dawn, In 2025, a new path drawn.
No longer bound by insecure ties, the past’s weight, I bid goodbye.
Goodbye to burdens heavy shadows, threatening to cave in on me,
goodbye to the whispers of names and flawed reflections;
I’ll let the flames of courage soar, And watch the past, forevermore.

With gasoline, I’ll set it free,
from chain of doubt I’ll break with glee.
A resolution blazes, fierce and true,
In the horizon’s arms, I’ll soar anew.
From the ashes, I rise, wings spread wide,
embracing the sky, my spirit twirled.
Let it all burn, in the night’s embrace,
I’ll find my freedom, in this vast space.

Having your inner child meet you at a park bench with tears in her eyes only means one thing & one thing only, she needs guidance. She needs love. She needs you to tell her things get better from here. You be honest with her & tell her it may not seem like it now, but everything eventually gets better. You let her know that her pain is valid. You will accept her tears. You tell her if it’s one thing you’ve learned, it’s having hope. Have faith. Find the positive amongst the hurt. Find gratitude amongst the moment. Find acceptance amongst the ugly.

Hearing your inner child tell you she wants happiness. She wants beautiful moments. She wants laughter. She wants her days to be filled with clarity. You look her in those little blue eyes with hair in her face & you give her the hug she needs. She deserves. She’s craved for so long. You let her know that in this moment, right now, everything needs to be felt.

I see you.
Not just the you they pretend to notice,
but the you that lingers in shadows,
weighed down by whispers that won’t hush.
The you that wonders if silence
is the only way to be heard.

I won’t lie to you—
this pain ain’t easy to carry.
It seeps into your bones,
fills your lungs with the weight of nights
that stretch too long, too heavy,
too empty.

I know the darkside.
The way it calls your name like a lullaby,
promising rest where the world
only offers war.
I know how it feels
when the walls close in,
when every breath feels borrowed,
when hope is a language
you forgot how to speak.

But listen to me.

There are others who walked this road,
stumbled, fell, but still found their way.
Not because the weight vanished,
but because they learned—
somehow, some way—
to shift it,
to share it,
to bear it just one more day.

So if tonight feels like the last chapter,
I beg you—
turn the page.

Because the story ain’t done.
And neither are you.

The couch. I bought the big leather couch, chair, and ottoman back in 1999 or 2000 I think. I was working on the boats at the time. Had a few boatguy friends that would come right before or right after season to hang out… some pretty big guys. I bought the big furniture in a time when you could get that set for $1500 I think. And it was built to last. I still can’t believe how well it was made compared to what you get now for the same price.

A crush and my brother helped me get it into the house..and it wasn’t easy.
When my ex and I bought this house it wasn’t any easier getting it in here.

Last Spring I tried to get it out of here by myself and quickly realized I might die trying. While it was still standing on end from my attempt at finagling it out the door, I cut out the material on the bottom and saw the bones of it… it was beautiful.. real wood, lots of it… straps were as high quality as the best ratchet straps of today. The springs across the bottom were thick and solid. I cut open the one cushion that had finally broke down, and those springs too, were heavy duty. I ordered a replacement spring pack, which was much lighter built than the original I found, not the old, solid, barely squash support of 25 years ago. I took an awl and sewed the leather back together. I bought a slip cover (pretty nice one) thinking, I could rescue this couch, build it back better and not just toss it away.

As time went by, I just couldn’t sit on it. It sat empty. It looked better on the outside, but it sat like a big ass sad emblem of itself. And it had been ruined from the inside, of another who defiled it.

Gone were the multiple big asses that sat on it, at times slept on it. Gone were the dogs that had curled up on it, scratching it ever so slightly with their paws. Gone were the times I could curl my feet under me, or lay across it with my head in another’s lap watching yet another hunting show…or even better, Walking Dead.

I had hinted to others that I wanted it out, for the past 9 or so months. No one took the hint. I think some things are just meant to be done on your own. So the other night….

I cut it’s coverings off… razor to leather… the leather on couches from back then was much better, thicker, more like hide. Cut out enough foam to get to those nice big chunks of wood that were it’s frame with the skillsaw. Cut it into two manageable pieces… scooted it out the door (still had to get the right angle to make it happen).. pushed it down the stairs, and dragged it to the the far end of the yard.

As I poured some expired peanut oil on it, and put a couple of dry pieces of wood in a cardboard box in the middle of it to get it started…. a sadness engulfed me… as the fire would soon engulf the couch. I had started this with anger, but it ended with grief. Like for real grief.

As I watched that fire (I couldnt believe how fast it went up), the last 24 years of time with this couch went through me.. along with the 21 years with him….it still took a couple of hours to realize that it was just time for it to go, and for me to let go of the idea that I had made it better, built it back better, and to let go of the idea that I could ever sit on it in comfort again.

It was grief.

Then, today someone mentioned to me that I had burnt a couch on the evening of the Super Moon. So there’s that.