Love comes in the morning

You heal through admitting what has hurt you and being vulnerable through that honesty.
-Some mornings I wake up to the memories gripping my eyelids open to find that you’re not here- I don’t know why bad days drag me back to you. Some days I try to fill myself with your love and I end up walking around like a silhouette of who I am. Some days I remember your hands and how for the longest time I believed hands were for feeling and not holding- I am too abundant for lust.
To think I’m still trying to pull you out of me, and they are days I’m too loyal to let go I end up spoon feeding myself with your love- those are the days I go to bed starving. I’ll admit sometimes I think you shoved your emptiness in me and that’s how you healed. I got on all fours for you and I called that stability. Somedays like last week Monday I wake up under all the words I’ve ever written to you- i wake up drowning in the love I tried to prove to you- my love is not my graveyard. I won’t kill myself to love someone. This Monday I woke up remembering I can call the words by name, and that I’m my own savior and that when love is heavy it is supposed to be an anchor not a burden. And that drowning is not romantic…
-Returning myself to myself .

Loving yourself through Adversities/ The Dock

The Dock.

Thursdays are always tough days. I was just leaving the dock and I felt all the oceans within me swell. It’s a confusing feeling you know, when your eyes are teary and you have to cross a road and the sun is blazing and people are walking by so you tense up and walk as swiftly as possible praying that no-one stops you to ask if you’re okay, or to hug you or make a joke that you’d have to drag a laugh over everything that’s not funny. Sometimes it gives me anxiety that in the middle of me laughing I might just cry- I’d rather not. When I am like this I don’t like being around people, it’s hard being on the edge fighting to pull yourself back up and when people approach with sharp optimistic edges they might push you over. Sometimes sadness can be so violent- sometimes being sad makes me violent. I’d rather not.
The more I thought about it, the more difficult it became to hold everything back. I put my tongue in between my teeth, like a wall. Trying to push back that lump, the swelling, everything. Someone greeted me but I could not speak cause my tongue was being a wall for my emotions. Sadness can be so silencing sometimes, so isolating, and so self inflicting. Any way I got to my room and drank some water- It’s fascinating, how dehydrating it is to be sad- how demanding sadness is and wants to be watered or maybe that’s my body- asking me to replenish it with something other than the saltiness forming in my throat.

I started undoing the bricks around my tongue so I can try again to learn the language of a good day.