Growing over

This change is just that. Change. I haven’t felt this way before, and I know I always say that, but this time is so different. I’m confronting things I’ve long buried, so deep because I was afraid it would destroy anything and everything if it ever came out. Now I am realizing that is not true. So I’m on my hands and knees, digging through the mud and the fear. I’ve gone so deep there is no way to turn back, and I have tried. and so I’m here- surrounded by dirt. Fucking disgusting, smelly dirt. And I don’t know how the air will feel when I breathe it again. I don’t know how the sounds will vibrate, I don’t know how I will speak. I don’t know much besides what the back of my hands covered in dirt look like. The unpleasantries i’ve witnessed do not make me unpleasant. I am not my dirt.  Nor is this quicksand. I am not sinking. Seeds grow in dirt. So here I am, a seedling. growing over.

 

 

 

 

 

with love

-alle rae

To feel still

I thank your sweet whispers

for teaching me

how to exist with

these hard hard winds

wrestle not you said

rustle in instead

and this time too

and this time too

will be something you’ve gotten through

it’s time to plant something new

that hole in your heart will do

Back to you

you too, are a meduim

so go

so flow

you don’t need beliefs to find yourself

just remember

recluse

she feels so stuck. only here she feels free. but she’s trying to move away from the absolutes. she clings to their frigidity, their motionless and unwavering spirit. she strives to be like them. strong. frim in their decisions of extremity.  analyzing the grey space is tiring. she tells herself to keep breathing but she feels like the air isn’t circulating properly. her lungs are whispering: open

her bones are shaking and her fears are right in front of her

she won’t let them win because she never does. but what is never, if it really means sometimes?

how absolute is absolute anyways?

 

Shapes don’t speak

love was never meant to be appropriate

let off (yourself) for falling for the moments and

the movements and the words and the sounds

it was made to be loved

by you

by them

and that’s okay

no matter how short lived

it can exist anywhere

anytime

and when you least expect it it’s there

keeping everything alive

Ok, have a good night

writing feelings

on the back of receipts

is easier than telling you

how I didn’t know I felt

isn’t it strange

how chances miss us

so slightly

we don’t notice

until nothing is all

that remains

hidden under glances

lost in the lingering

wind

of the almosts

that pass by

To you

I don’t think any of my friends, family, or loved ones really, read this extension of my mind. Which is okay, I don’t expect anyone to. But I wanted to write this for them..

So if you’re reading, and you love me, this is to you…

most times I’m thinking of you

sorrowed and trying

to muster up the love

i know you care to hear from me

or at least i think

because

i think for both of us

and most days I’m changing

and i haven’t the heart to

let you see me

broken as i am

but i love you

i love you

i love you

button girl

you were never mine

we were never we

but you get to live forever in the songs

say goodbye to the trees

we’ll meet again on the other end

with grass no greener

in metered love of the nature sounds

You don’t have to try so hard to try so hard.

Every now and then, I use to tell myself this affimation about being enough. A couple of days ago, I realized that wasn’t the correct truth for me. My problem wasn’t feeling like I wasn’t enough. I felt like I was too much, and in response, I shrank myself and hid, for so long.

When I was a little girl I used to get called a brat all the time.  One day after my Mom said it, it became okay to repeat by my brothers. So anytime I would disagree, or stand my ground and express my feelings, I would get called a brat. I remember how much I would fight back saying I wasn’t, that brats are spoiled and I was nowhere near that. I hated being called a brat. I knew that I was not selfish and hard to manage as a child or anything the word implies. I knew that I cared a lot and I went around negotiating so much with others needs and energies that it hurt that no one realized that, and called me a brat instead. I began to feel like a burden.

Peeling back the layers to my true self-worth, I have to realize and accept, that I am not a burden. I am not too much. My inner child is worthy. I AM worthy. I am worthy just for existing. I don’t have to try so hard to try so hard, and you don’t either. Just be. All the desires of our hearts are already ours. Thanks for being here. ❤

with love

-alle rae