I’m Not Waiting Any Longer

And I sit there on the floor

Legs not crossed like a lady

But crossed like I’m four again

Sitting at school on the carpet

Waiting for the teacher to explain.

 

Okay, I’m ready.

For you to let down your wisdom

Breathe the secret into my ear

Pull back the curtain

Ignite the barren emptiness

Of not knowing

 

Only

I sit there, on the floor

Waiting

Rubbernecking like nobody’s business

Wholeheartedly believing

Now I’ll understand

Now it’ll all make sense

I’ll get it

Understand

I’ll know what this life is all about

What I’ve been missing

 

I’ve lived into my how-to manual

People will come rushing through the terminals

Hard earned years of enlightenment

They’ll bustle in their hurried fever

Of needing to get on with their lives

Because they have so much to live

What, with all that understanding

Due to age…

 

Only

I sit there, on the floor

Realizing the room is empty

It’s a stage with polished floors

And vaulted ceilings

Rows and rows of chairs

The nice cushy ones you might’ve fought your grandpa for

When you were four years old

 

I look around and see

The lights are off

I’m the only one on the stage

The crowd is empty

Those nice soft seats, void of any life

Any know-how to impart

 

That’s the first lesson I really learned

About everyone else,

Outside of my skin.

It didn’t knock off any innocence

I wasn’t shiny or brand new by then

That got rubbed off before I could speak

But I’d kept some silly hope that when you said

“When you’re older you’ll understand”

…that you spoke the truth.

 

You did not.

The truth is

No one knows.

 

I found this out, sitting cross-legged

Like a child

Vibrating with enthusiasm

And excitement

Ready to warm my hands

At the fire of everyone’s experience

 

With the heat of age

That’d crept into my body

That everyone told me, made me

Better, somehow

Like numbers of lived life

Ups your worth in some cosmic game

And so you earn more lives

And redeemable information to trade

For a bunch of useless tasks, you performed…because….

 

Still sitting on an empty floor

Holding a ticket that leads nowhere.

 

By Daphne Shadows

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Photo is property of Daphne Shadows

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Vulnerability

We are told not to show ourselves as vulnerable because it might make us easier targets. Easier to hurt, manipulate, catfish.
Oh well.
We are all already vulnerable.
The only other option is to close ourselves off and experience nothing joyful, connected, or worth living for.

Vulnerability is the only way we can truly enjoy our lives or become anyone worth becoming. Not to mention the only way to feel satisfied in life and our relationships.

We’re going to get hurt whether we’re allowing ourselves to feel vulnerable or not.

Emotionless is not how I want to live. Vulnerable sucks. I’m only kinda good at letting myself be vulnerable. But it’s worth it.

 

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If You Are Looking For A Sign

Don’t worry about what the world thinks of you.

What do you think about you?

Are you being true to yourself, genuine, in line with the person you want to be?

Who do you wish you were?

You can become that person. What would that person think about the world’s opinion of them? That version of yourself probably wouldn’t care, right?

 

We are all looking for validation and approval. Make sure you’re looking in the right places.

People are always going to judge you.

Don’t worry about it.

Do your thing.

Be your strange or boring self.

People are going to laugh.

Be yourself anyway.

They’re not laughing at you. They’re allowing their insecurities and unhealthy beliefs to show.

 

We are all looking for some sign to tell us if we’re good enough.

You are good enough.

Criminently, you are fabulous!

 

Align who you are with who you want to be.

Don’t concern yourself with the mocking, the finger pointing, the cruel bullying. They aren’t really happy. That’s why they’re trying to destroy you.

 

Just be okay with who you are. You are good enough right here and right now.

From there, you can begin building yourself into whoever it is you want to become.

That’s one of the whole points of life – becoming.

 

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Reality in the Dream Clouds

Back to reality.

Get your head out of the clouds.

Get a real job.

She’s out of your league.

Stop dreaming and start dealing with reality.

 

We hear things like this so often we could probably pay for a ticket to the moon if we got a dollar each time we heard it.

Reality.

It’s a problematic killjoy that often rubs the shiny off of every human being within a few years of double-digit birthdays.

 

But the reality is – there are people living lives they hate, doing jobs they hate, and settling for relationships they don’t actually enjoy.

And there are others living their dreams, beating every odd, in relationships we only hear about in storybooks, achieving everything they set their sights on.

THAT is the reality.

 

The reality is, dreams can come true.

Or life can suck.

But both ways of living are realistic. So why do we so readily believe that our dreams are ridiculous, unrealistic?

We’re here for a purpose. So live life on your terms. It’s your life. 

 

“Be strong in the moments where you want to be weak cause life itself is worth living for. If you are not living the life that you want, you fight for that life.”

Jensen Ackles

 

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They Follow Me

There are these
Stilted Scarecrows
Jolting about
On corpse legs

Forcing their way
Into my line of
Vision
Throwing blood about
Beating on a drum

Funny
They choose not to notice
My silence

The past
Cannot be
Re-done
Re-spoken

Some wounds
Cannot heal
Until the
Scar tissue
Is erased
In another life

So desperate
For me to be
Sitting around
The fire
With you

But I remember
What those embers
Can do

I’ve collected
These Scarecrows
Though I’m really
Not certain how
Or why
They shamble around
In the dark
Just out of sight
Waiting to pounce
To stitch their bony joints
Into my hair

I’ve befriended
Murders of crows
I’ve decorated
My home
With them
Etched them
Into my bones

And yet
These Burning Eyed
Scarecrows
They find me

Clothed in dead skins
Sickles in their hands
Carved faces
Straw innards
They haunt
Ghoulish calls
Carrying clappers
And stones

They are my funeral march
Hurling perilously
Into the fires they create
Pinning me the patsy

I’ve collected
These Scarecrows
They keep hiding behind
Death masks

I do not belong
To them
But they claw
At my skin

Their past presence
Scarring my Sight

I belong to the ravens
I side with the crows

 

By Daphne shadows

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