The path that leads to the enlightenment on becoming our genuine self.

When we project our thoughts outwards,
other’s opinions of our words become our shape and mold;

When we project our thoughts inward, we answer our own questions and learn our own voice.


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Individuals: My piece of the puzzle is still finding it’s fit.

Predestined journeys.

Outcomes variabled by: human encounter, eventful experience.

I have a soul. Individually mine.

You do too.


Maybe you were that lucky person who came out the womb, ready for the world! Your soul came out ready to: speak, do, see.

Maybe your soul came out ready to be you.

As for me?

Its been a long process.

Seemingly, it’s taking longer than my friends, and those I’m acquainted with. It’s taken longer for me, to simply, be me.

Bird in a cage.

A fish in a tank.

More like Houdini at the bottom of a lake. In a straight jacket, and chains, locked inside of a trunk.

He dies though. So, will I?


There is this story to me, that is still not complete.

I know my soul is beautiful.

I would never admit that to me though!


I succumb to the negativity.

I succumb to the control.

I EAT the abuse.

I crave it, I taste it.

I need it.

NO, I needed it.

It filled the cracks to my broken soul.

How sickening?

What put me here?

The people I allowed in. The people who were part of the package deal of LIFE.

How do I choose to hate my own mother?

How ugly am I for that?

To keep this woman in my life.

When I hate her.

To keep this woman in my life, because my soul tells me it is wrong to let go.

To keep this terrible force in my life, because I swear there’s a fix.

9 years later of hate.

Hanging on to that shade of love.

I will come out!

I will be alive.

I will be ME.

I will find the confidence.

Here is a cheers to all of those who have been pushed down by societal claims of perfection, but have withstood it!

Here is a cheers, to those still pursuing the journey of finding themselves.

If you don’t fit, it doesn’t mean you are the wrong piece!

It means you are simply in the wrong place of the puzzle.

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A word, a note, a thought, a reasoning, the truth of my thoughts to my true soul mate:



I have, selfishly, been inside my own mind. Consumed with myself.

I’ve been busy
Trying again,

Or maybe accepting.
Maybe a bit of both.

I have been stuck in a slow-paced yet driven and frenzied approach at catching up with myself.

Editing everything within me that needed changing or replacing or getting rid of.
Or, in most cases, things that needed in.
All the things that needed acceptance.

So, all of these little jars sealed tight in the sea of my soul.
You ask to see,
You want to know,
You think I hide.

But the truth is AS I’m opening up to you,
It’s the first time I have opened up with me.

And as i am so busy with me, it seems like I forget about you.
I haven’t though.

You’ve given me something that no other soul has ever given me.
My OWN soul has never given to me.
You gave me freedom.

You took off all the chains and locks.
You knocked down all the doors and fences and walls.

You gave me living instead of life.
You are the key that turns slowly and sets my soul free.

So when it seems like I make it all about me,
It really is all about you.

Inside I’m idolizing your strength.
Worshiping how well you accept yourself.
Your fearlessness.
Your genuineness.
You’re you.

Sadly,frequently, I take for-granted your patience, and only infrequently realizing just how much patience you are using.

Your ideals
Your feels
In your brain the turning wheels
I love it all

My life would have sucked if I hadn’t met you.
I never would have found how to be honest with myself.
Therefore I never would have even FOUND myself.

You’re a god.
And saying that feels silly.
But to me it’s what you are.
Because you have changed me and my life more than any religion could have.
You have put a spirituality in me that I didn’t know was there.

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finding my way back…someday

I am one year into a new relationship.

I am eight months into having my first child.

I am three months into a different job.

I am one hour into the epiphany that I have become a monstrous mess of a mommy.


I find myself constantly micromanaging every minute, hour, and second of my time so I can be everything to everyone.

Nighttime is my worst vice.
I reject sleep these days to accomplish what I haven’t gotten done during the day.
Normal people sleep at least a solid 5 hours; I stupidly choose the routine of up and down all night.
Packing lunches at 10pm, midnight laundry, 2am bottles, 3am coffee and toast for Dylan, 4am shower for me, and occasionally a 5am bottle before I’m off to work at 6am.

I am proud to say that I work in a Deli. It’s an unwanted badge of honor that I proudly wear.
Nobody wants to work in that department. Its physically and mentally exhausting.
Frequently unobtainable deadlines, rude customers, never ending work, and a pace that’s impossible to keep up with.
But, I really don’t mind, because for eight hours of the day I don’t have time to think about anything other than working my butt off so that I can hopefully get promoted to full time.

After work, I smell, I’m sweaty, and sticky, and my feet feel like they will fall off.
All I want is a nice long hot shower.
BUT instead I am off for my 20 minute drive to get my baby girl.

I remember as a kid promising to always make time for my children, thinking I’d never be to exhausted to play with them.
Ignorance is bliss.

My daughter is a handful.
She has the energy of two kids and the same kind of curiosity that killed the cat.
Don’t get me wrong, I love her to pieces.
She is clever, adorable, and a sweetheart; I wouldn’t change that girl for anything.
I just wish I had the energy to keep up with her.
I wish I had the energy to enjoy my time with her instead of wishing she would fall asleep or grow up.
By the time I get her home, she’s all napped out and she’s only happy playing or taking a long walk.
Feed her dinner, sometimes a bath, etc..
No resting time for mommy.

Then its time for my dinner and ‘sleep.’

Where is the time for me?
The time for my daughter?
The time for my relationship?
The time for my ever-fading friendships?
For my goals and dreams and desires?

I have turned into my mother.
Help me find my way back?



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I see stars – The Hardest Mistakes

I made the hardest mistakes, I need to let them go.

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Are you really a victim if you allow something to happen?
Maybe, maybe not.
I cannot decide.

I enabled you.

I accepted poor treatment.

I assured you the anger and violence was forgivable.

That the manipulation and lies were cunning; that you were so smart.

You told me that your friends and family said all these terrible things about me.
Your best friend thought I was too dumb for you to date.
You said your mom wanted me to be supermodel beautiful and skinny, and to her, I wasn’t good enough for you.
Now I wonder if those words were even theirs; I think they were really yours.

I wanted to prove myself to be worth something to someone.

Wanted to be perfect.
Be perfect for you.
Because perfect was something I’d never been for anyone.
Perfect was something I couldn’t even be for myself.

You encouraged me to be this girl you wanted.
Even though you knew the girl you wanted, that girl wasn’t me.
You pushed me to be another person.
And I allowed it.

I’ll never forget the day I asked if you thought I was pretty.
Your answer scarred me for years.
You said I had the potential to be beautiful.
You told me you were waiting for me to one day blossom.

It cut deep.

Starving myself wasn’t enough.
Plastic surgery was your next suggestion.
Then maybe starving myself a little more.
My hair was all wrong too.
You wanted a girl with red hair.
I guess that why you tried to fuck my neighbor.
Or maybe you actually did.
I’m not sure.

On my loneliest nights, all I could hear in my head was criticism.
You made me believe those voices were right.

But I have to thank you.
Because of you I found strength that I never had before.
I found an inner beauty that once didn’t exist.
I learned to treat myself better.
And I learned to accept life with more grace.
Most importantly I learned how to walk away from something that wasn’t right.

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Breathe – Anna Nalick

I’ve held this song close to my heart since I was about fifteen. The lyrics have always enticed me and the chorus always makes me feel calmed. The words seem to mean something new every time I rediscover the song.

2 AM and she calls me ’cause I’m still awake
“Can you help me unravel my latest mistake?
I don’t love him, winter just wasn’t my season”

Yeah we walk through the doors, so accusing their eyes
Like they have any right at all to criticize
Hypocrites, you’re all here for the very same reason

And cause you can’t jump the track, we’re like cars on a cable
And life’s like an hourglass, glued to the table
No one can find the rewind button, girl
So cradle your head in your hands

And breathe, just breathe
Oh breathe, just breathe

In May he turned 21 on the base at Fort Bliss
“Just a Day,” he said down to the flask in his fist
“Ain’t been sober, since maybe October of last year”

Here in town you can tell he’s been down for awhile
But, my God, it’s so beautiful when the boy smiles
Wanna hold him, maybe I’ll just sing about it

‘Cause you can’t jump the track, we’re like cars on a cable
And life’s like an hourglass, glued to the table
No one can find the rewind button, boys
So cradle your head in your hands

And breathe, just breathe
Oh breathe, just breathe

There’s a light at each end of this tunnel
You shout ’cause you’re just as far in as you’ll ever be out
And these mistakes you’ve made, you’ll just make them again
If you only try turning around

2 AM and I’m still awake, writing a song
If I get it all down on paper, it’s no longer
Inside of me threatening the life it belongs to

And I feel like I’m naked in front of the crowd
‘Cause these words are my diary, screaming out loud
And I know that you’ll use them however you want to

But you can’t jump the track, we’re like cars on a cable
And life’s like an hourglass, glued to the table
No one can find the rewind button now
Sing it if you understand

And breathe, just breathe
Whoa breathe, just breathe
Oh breathe, just breathe
Oh breathe, just breathe

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These words are stuck on the tip of my tongue

Which is uglier?

Speaking your heart before picking out adequate words,

or dwelling on your heart’s feelings because you never find suitable words?

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The thoughts in my head scare me.
Not because of their nature.
Nor because they are crude, evil or wrong.

This fear attacks my insides because I’m struck with a realization;
these thoughts, they are my own.

An epiphany of simplicity.

These thoughts. My thoughts. These feelings. My feelings.

They are here.
They are in there.
They are mine.

But, your thoughts, your opinions; they are also there sometimes.
Still fighting to control,
to take over,
to win.
Everything about you consumed me.
Now it is all imprinted on my soul, lost in my brainwaves.
You devoured my soul.

I get transfixed on analyzing.
I’m sucked into a whirlwind of deciding who I am.
Deciding who you are.
Deciding how to differentiate between yourself and myself.

Is this my fault, or is it yours?

It results in a feeling of insanity.
I try to place a textbook term of some psychological problem on it.
Self-doubting, believing it must be a mental disease.

When will this internal storm completely fade?

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I can’t feel close to another person.
Because you were too close.
You invaded my soul.

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