Day to Day Poetry

Day to Day Poetry #26

I’ve lived in a prison all my life.
I am trapped inside my own mind.
A mind that dictates euphoria I can never understand,
and misery I can’t keep down.

But it isn’t too bad,
because I am not alone.
Everyone’s made a prison of their own.
Living inside 9 to 5 office jobs to pay for a house
they never stay in.

I am locked behind a mind that follows me not;
This four-walled trap is all I’ve ever known.
I wonder what it’s like to be powerful enough
To decide when to be happy or sad –
to face the notion of ending up being yourself
with comfort and content,
not fear and panic.

Day to Day Writing, Epiphanies

Day to Day Writing #25

When I was sixteen, I spent all night alone in my room, in the dark, listening to Ashlee Simpson from my laptop, and crying in agreement every time she said “Good bye”. I was crying because my best friend stopped calling me as much as she used to, and the difference caught me by surprise, because I wasn’t quite ready for our relationship to end yet. It was very obvious to me what I was sad about, and it didn’t bother me whether or not my reaction to my situation was appropriate. All I knew was that I was sad, and that was enough to legitimate the Ashlee Simpson music and the tantrum that followed for hours afterward.

Now that I’m older, I look back at this memory fondly. It is an anecdote I remember with nostalgia because of its simplicity and clarity. I wish I could be sad without judgement – without looking at myself in anger, because I often believe that I am sad over things I shouldn’t be sad about – as if there was a hierarchy in pain that I should always put first, instead of my emotions. I wish I could easily pinpoint the source of my sadness as eloquently and as easily as I did when I was sixteen, because I had no shame nor regret over the decisions I made, because I wasn’t trying to justify anything to myself. I wish I could let myself be simply sad for one day and not hate myself for it, because when I was sixteen, I was so ready to accept that people have good and bad days – and time wasn’t something that could go to waste if you allowed yourself to have one sad, bad day — or a couple. Because there was always time to be happy, to move on.

Now that I’m older, I am so aware of time and the minutes I waste being sad. This search for happiness has consumed my life to the point that I have stopped allowing myself to feel the way I actually feel. As if only certain problems have legitimacy, as if tears can only be justified within certain situations.

I wish I could be irrational, and show my emotions to anyone who would listen, without being judged nor put to shame, and still be considered an adult.

Day to Day Poetry

Day to Day Poetry # 24

There’s a cricket living in my heater.
I feed him leaves through the dusty grate and listen to his chirping at night.

A few days ago I tried my best to lead him out,
And created a path for escape through my living room window —
But he stayed in his spot and chirped,
and forced us
to co-exist.

Every morning I check my heater
only to see the path I created for him remain

His chirps lull me through my nightmares,
on evenings when I leave my window open,
the cold sneaking in and settling deep within
my bones.

I paint my old heater forest-green
To make him feel at home.

A small thank you for his nightly song,
the one that holds my hand
and leads me through a yellow field,
an endless sea of stars burning bright above us —
and the songs of crickets and cicadas
surrounds us.

Day to Day Poetry, poetry

Day to Day Poetry #23

Remembering the night
you stayed up until 5 am with me
talking about ex lovers and our friends
watching scary movies, and sneaking up the stairs
to brew a cup of tea without waking up our roommates.

It may have been an uneventful night for you,
but it was exactly what I needed at the time.

Thank you.

Day to Day Poetry

Day to Day Poetry # 22

I am the daughter of adventure and exploration,
an old-school, classic adrenaline junkie.
Despising routine,
Ghastly afraid
of the every day.

And yet —

the happiest and most content memory I have,
is sitting in the dark, curled up under the covers,
sipping warm tea, listening to the rain,
watching a horror movie
with you.