OmnomnomSquirl

It's stupid, really, I think about them more, now, that they're dead I wouldn't say I miss them, necessarily, but I learnt so much about the both of them - through stories told at their funerals at family gatherings I guess my parents think about their parents more, now, too a whole life lived before we were children

I don't have a house to hide secrets under the floorboards in then again, what's another story more tucked away on the shelf i used to write pages and pages almost as fast as i'd read them its not that i have nothing to say ive just said it before echolalia, repeat after me: house, home, house, home home, house, home, memory; mints hidden in my pockets, tangerines peeled like flowers

I tell her "I've learned how to regulate the meltdowns" but I don't tell her about the dreams it starts with gum in my mouth or, when what I have is sharp it turns into glass either way it won't go down & it won't come out

This time of year is always hard The days shrink; grows darker temperature freezes, and i freeze with There are days where i can't sleep all night only wake up when the sun sets but it's tangerine season, clementine reasons to share, not give up i can't give you much but i can give you that

tired, am I getting too old? it's not that I'm afraid of aging, it's just; I look at myself, I do not feel grown I'm still four and crying about the first day of school I'm still nine and realizng how vast the universe is I'm still fourteen and learning what death is, through the loss of a friend I look at my grey hairs, I think of my first cat, his gray fur, and miss how big he was in comparison to me I guess what I'm trying to say is The world is way too big for me still & I feel way too small

when asked, i'll tell people 'i'm still working on my degree' or, if they know me better, 'still throwing words on paper hoping something sticks, just trying to get back into art' so here's the truth i want to plant vegetables in the sun i want the seasons to be gentle and kind i want a cat that grows old and teaches me how to knead dough i want to be kind i want to be selfish i want to belong

i do not like to stop at the signage or look at a map because all it signifies is 'you do not know the way' & 'you do not belong with us' maybe that's why when i feel lost i go for walks & don't ask for directions

i spent so long blocking out my feelings carved away at myself just to get rid of the (b)/(s)ad i spent so long being hollow empty, hungry, the familiar gnawing growing deeper, darker, louder Louder i'm getting better now, but sometimes i hear it still softly, quietly, gently eating away at my insides waiting for me to listen

3: it's okay if you want to kiss strangers because of how they look at you like maybe there's a connection just don't expect them to fill the empty space that depression left in you don't expect that from your lover either 5: it's okay to blast those songs & wallow in familiar, nostalgic bittersweet comforting sadness but only if afterwards, you pick yourself back off the floor & dance to the happiest tunes you know 8: when you show your poetry to someone and the only one they liked was about how you felt like you could not fly that's a sign 14: i know you wish you didn't give a shit about your beauty, your body, your weight, but you do and that's fine just don't get lost in your own reflection(s) and don't stay empty

i want to write a song or maybe i just want to hear your voice sing again