Collisions

Her anxieties seemed to swallow her up from the inside out, sometimes without leaving her even a trace of light to be able to find her way out. It began to happen more and more often, as though it were some huge creature taking large, disjointed breaths. She crawled out only to be gulped back down by fears she struggled so hard to understand. It left her with a heavy heart and perspiring palms.

She named it the Thought Monster. And it was one of her biggest dreams to slay it.

reminiscent

Grief hits at the most unanticipated times...

Waves

Your littlest granddaughter just wants you to know
that though you could not speak the last time I saw you
when I told you I loved you,
(I hope that you heard me)
I knew in my heart that you loved me too.

I kissed your forehead 

even after they told me 

you were gone,

because you were still right there

 (I hope you felt it).

Rest in peace, grandpa. 

Time will never change how much I love you.

Story Time

The blades of the fan circled slowly enough so that the dust lining each blade was noticeable. It irritated the girl who sat below them, nestled into a white leather sofa. She craned her neck to watch the rotations. Everything in the room was white and smelled of disinfectant, as if the confessions told in the room were so dire only Clorox could really purge them from the walls. She heard the door to her left open. Footsteps and the rustling of paper caused her to roll her eyes and sigh.
The man walked by her with an elegance that didn't quite match his profession. She studied him carefully. His gray slacks reminded her of the dust that circled above her.
He turned to her as he sat down in the adjacent chair. He fiddled with a small black object. The girl heard a faint click.

"Could you state your name for the record please?" It must have been a tape recorder. She shifted her weight.

"Janie Leto."  The handcuffs were starting to make her wrists itch.

"And how old are you Ms. Leto?"

"I'm 16." He nodded and scribbled something onto his legal pad.

"Ms. Leto, do you understand why you're here?" Janie let out a small, almost inaudible sigh. "Does anyone?" A faint smile tugged at the man's lips. "Well, Ms. Leto, I know I'm here to help you. So why don't you tell me, do you know why you're here?"
"It's part of my rehabilitation program at the residential treatment center. I come here, tell you my life story..." She nodded toward his paper. "You write your little notes down, make me seem like a boring textbook case, and then I go back to the RTC a new woman. Sound about right to you, Doc?"
There was no faint smile this time. "You can call me Milo. I'm glad you understand why you're here Janie, but I don't think you're going to be leaving the psychiatric ward for some time. I'm hoping you understand why." She nodded. "I can deal with that." He shuffled his papers and looked at her. "I'm going to ask you a series of questions, and I'd like you to answer them as truthfully as you can." The girl blinked her eyes.

"Shoot."

For you

"To the well organized mind, death is but the next great adventure" -Albus Dumbledore

Rest in Peace Poppop. I love you.

Forevers.

And now, with accelerated breath, tear stained cheeks and an undeniable urge to throw up until my heart doesn't hurt, I wonder if he only knew. If he'd just pick up the phone and call me.

Tempo

Everyone always said “that girl dances to her own drum
Has enough strength to blow out the stars and give hell to the sun”
Look close and I’m waltzing but I step out of tune,
Others hear Three Times a Lady , but all I hear is the blues.

Others see a woman who is beautiful and smart
Lights up the room they hadn’t realized was dark
I look in the mirror and in my reflection
All I see is a girl who needs a lot of correction.

Relentlessly brutal, unable to give myself a break
I‘m my biggest critic, always judging the future by past mistakes
Assuming people see in me the same failures I do


And these shoulders weren’t built
To take the weight of the world