Moving

I have changed blogging websites because, frankly, blogger is horrendous. Please continue reading on at: http://fleetink.wordpress.com/

My Friend: Sleep

I find that sleeping makes things easier. I could go to sleep right now and not have to worry about all the math problems I don't understand that will help me graduate next year. I could do the same tomorrow or even the next day if I'd like. Sleep puts your worries, fears, and stress all under a pillow that way they're all muffled and you can't hear their little voices calling out your name. But I know that sleep isn't always good to me. It makes me miss important things and makes it hard to get out of bed. But for right now, I'll choose sleep. It puts my mind at ease.

Step 1

After screaming at myself in my car for the second time, I realized something for the first time in a long time. It is necessary that I be completely alone in this mind and body healing process. Others may adamantly disagree, like my family and friends, but they need to listen to the reason why. In the short moment I stopped screaming angrily at myself for being a sad person, I realized that I had realized this all on my own- without talking to loved ones or a therapist. I am sad, and I am absolutely furious about it. Because it turns strangers away with a frown, worries my loved ones, strains goals set for myself, and threatens my relationships. I believe that realizing what I am, where I stand on it, and what it does to everything around me is the first step to getting better. But the road ahead is long and twisted, sometimes dark but sometimes light, cold, but also warm. But most importantly, paths blocked by trees, but other paths hiding nearby.

"....The woods are lovely, dark and deep,
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep."

- Robert Frost

Artificial (Revised)

Feeling good today          the sun's glimmering like little jewels in stale light          though the wind is brutally cold I don't mind it at all          letting things roll off my sleeve like water droplets on green leaves in a breeze          have nothing to think about          nothing to worry about          just the free feeling I was given today and though I wonder if this wonderful feeling is artificial          hand crafted by brain power in a lab          in the form of a peach tablet smaller than a pea          is this me          I don't know          maybe it's a new me ready to take on the world          but I can't help but be afraid that maybe I was better off the way I was          because it was all I knew          now I'm steadfast on a journey of becoming something new          uncharted territory          discovering things maybe eyes were not meant to see          like riches at the bottom of the sea          but I take a long look around and my environment is augmented in ways that I cannot explain          color is beautiful          people are happier          because hey          I'm happier          and though the definition of happiness is different for some          I think that this is what it is for me          and the help I needed to get here was all that I need.

"You've got a warm heart, you've got a beautiful brain. But it's disintegrating, from all the medicine."

Between dealing with depression, the infestation in my home and living out of bags, being broke, working at a retail job where you're taught it's okay for strangers to treat you like scum, not knowing where I'm going to live next year, and falling behind in school because of said problems, I think the worst of it all is feeling numb. The very real numbness where you can touch an object and feel nothing at all- a sort of detachment from the world that is quite scary. But really, you wish that you could physically feel things and in your mind, feel nothing at all. Because that way it would be so much easier to trudge on. And although cloudiness does reside in my mind, it only confuses days, creates memory loss, and affects my perception of time. But all emotions still exist there, hindering these things even more and causing yet more strain- as if I can feel the electrical pulses of information being sent to each nerve painfully, exhaustively. Exhaustion, there's that too. Not being able to stay awake for very long because of an over-stressed body. I could literally sleep in a way that feels like I only breath medicated air that knocks me out and nothing will awaken me. This too is frightening, because being able to distinguish reality from dreams is next to impossible. And all the more scary when you cannot wake from them.

I used to think the medicine would help.

Untitled

I feel better under the weight
of my covers, a shroud
protecting from all harm
Floating in space
is where I like to go best
This space, this bed,
is my rightful home
Body fuses to cushion
and I can sleep
for eternity if I'd like
Because here, no one disturbs
me, for no one can
I am just "sleeping"
I listen more to the roaring
in my ears, the sticky blood
in my veins: they lull me to sleep.
I don't feel anything in my space
and that is good
Feeling is too costly-
and I cannot afford it.

Untitled

Can't hold on to just hope.

No hope.

No hope.

No hope.

Faker

It's been a while. But I suppose that's how it goes. Feeling like a pill popping faker. Feels like me, but isn't. Not completely. Feeling empty, feeling blue, feeling lost, feeling lonely. All these feels and there's just one me. Too much to face on my own, but got no one else. Don't wanna walk alone but don't wanna be part of this disgusting race. Each day I hate human beings more and more. They're selfish, ungrateful, and mean. So then I guess I hate myself since I am a human being. However, I don't think that I am selfish, ungrateful, or mean. So then what am I? Am I in between or nothing at all? I don't know which I'd rather be. Either would probably be better. I am good, I swear I am. So then why don't I feel good?

To Keep in Mind:

• Continue eating healthy
• Learn to be happy with yourself, as an individual
• Drink more water
• Keep busy, lest your mind wanders to negative things- which brings me to:
• Don't think so much!

Nos Vemos Luego

I was finally able to send my little sister off to college this year. Gonna really miss her. I feel better knowing where she is rather than imagining it though. Can't wait to start my visits. :)

Untitled (A poem by my mommy!)

I'm so proud of my mom! She wrote her very first poem and asked me to edit it a little bit. Might do some more editing on it, but so far I think it sounds good. :)

Hold my hand while we walk

the streets, hold me tight

while we watch the sunset

Look into my eyes

while we make love

You guarded your heart

and I didn't know how

to protect mine

Without love for many years-

I let you in, I thought you were kind

I thought you were true

I know now you're beginning

a new journey, a journey

where you will meet others

find yourself, find your peace

But if you do not want love,

don't hold their hand, or watch

sunsets or look into their eyes

Because when it's time

to say goodbye, they will miss you

with a broken heart

Same Old

I can't tell you how many times I've been asked the questions, "Where do you go to school and what are you going for?" It ceaselessly follows me like a drenched dog that you don't want shaking it's slobbery, wet body by you. But oh, it shakes, and leaves you feeling slimey, gross, and wondering, 'How the hell did I end up here?'

These are not simple small-talk questions that you can ask me, people!

There are hidden complexities, uncertainty, and an array of other ridiculous emotions that come with asking these questions. I've grown so numb to the familiar words that all I utter now is "I don't know" to get them all to shut up and stop reminding me of the misery I face in my own head every day. I apologize for not muttering something exciting like Geneticist or Doctor to make your miserable day a little better. This is me, remember? I do the bare minimum and get by- do you really think I have planned that far ahead? By now, most of the people I went to high school with are rolling in a steep salary. Good for them, but as much as I'd like to be making that kind of money, I'd like to figure out how to get there first by taking my time.

As of right now, I am regrettably attending college to quell my parent's desires. That's how it's been since I started. But hopefully soon, I will start attending college for me too, for something that I actually want to learn about as a career.

A Death

I came home from work one day last week and Reno was dead.

He had caught something that made him very sick, very quickly. Even though I did all I could, I was frantic, upset, and most of all- I felt like it was my fault. Just a rat? Think of it this way: a living creature I took care of for almost two years and had the privilege of seeing every single day is now buried in a box under a tree at my parent's house. Now isn't that sad? I loved that goofy little guy, and sure I still have two left, but it's not the same. He was one of the first rats I ever owned and he hadn't even lived to his full life. I'm still mortified only a few days later. I can't stop thinking about the suffering.

I'm a very caring person, and when it comes to animals, that caring is multiplied by a million. It's who I've always been. I'll miss my over-eating rat baby forever.

Reflecting

Hmm lets see, haven't had much to really write about. Maybe it's because I've run out of things to be depressed about, since most of my ramblings came from that kind of source. I suppose that's a good thing. But I'm not really holding true to my personal goals here, which was to keep blogging and writing poetry. I haven't written a poem since I finished up my Poetry Writing class in May. It surprises me how much I miss it. As for reading for pleasure over the summer, that too seems to have been put on hold. Not sure why, but it has. Don't get me wrong, I found it very enjoyable and relaxing. I suppose I stopped all these things because I get bored of the same repetitive things in my life. I don't particularly like this part of myself because I see it as a loss of motivation, which is something I sorely need in my life. I know what I lack in my life, I just don't know how to stay on track. Determination and motivation are things that are not easily kept on my mind and I believe for me, they should be at the forefront. Maybe then I could enjoy life to it's fullest potential.

I Miss Someone, Somewhere

I miss someone, somewhere. She is stale, she is a ghost, her features completely changed by a source I do not know. A source that we both drove and did not. I hurt and we hurt together in the facade that was our friendship, but I enjoyed it. Did you? Because now that I'm better I've reached out to grab the air where your arm should be. And once again I feel the white, aching pain of loneliness that teeters on the edge of stupidity. Why should I waste my precious breath reaching out after our mistakes and be met with a stone wall of white? I recognize this idiocy with great irritability but cannot stop. I'll tell you why: the fond memories are too good to pass up.

Relapse

Don't know, been off the past few days. Maybe it's time this nice streak ended. And though I'll mourn the leave of the person I was able to become, I'll mourn more for becoming who I used to be.

My Name is Bree and I'm Happy

:/

Took Chica to the vet yesterday and got some alarming news...But I think we caught it early enough. She's going to need surgery. I'm really scared. I hope my best friend will be okay.

Just Be Happy

I wish the people that I love could be happy.

The Past Really is Just Past

Except now I can say it and believe my own words. I was reading some things on here from my past self and I'll admit I'm a bit shocked. Who was that person?

A Little Bit of Steinbeck

First book on the list: The Red Pony. Hey, found it at the end of my neighbor's driveway among other novels several years ago so why not? It's short and travel-sized, got an interesting enough story to keep me reading. It's old as dirt and I like that. Probably going to keep the old trend going with other books I've got lined up such as Where the Red Fern Grows and The Catcher in the Rye. I'm committed to this reading thing. ;)

Things Ahead

Finishing up school tomorrow and then I can finally focus on my personal goals. Gonna try to get more immersed in poetry and books over the summer, and of course, I'll still make time for some summer fun as well. Although a lot of things are going to change by the end of this year, I can see that somehow this summer will still be great. I've got a great boyfriend, family, friends, and more importantly, a great life. Things are looking up and I'm eager to see what lies ahead.

Drug Dreams

Vivid dreams about reality swirled in reality and it's hard to decipher what happened or what actually happened and what really exists and what doesn't most of the time.

Potential

Definitely gonna miss my poetry writing class. I'm finding out things about myself I never even knew, opening up to strangers and letting them read my work. I am a good writer, I really am. I have potential. I'm finally beginning to realize that, and I never could have without taking this one class.

The New "Same"

Been busy, have only been posting poetry I write for class. Things have been the same, or the new same I suppose. Been living in a dream it seems, unaffected by much and invested in nothing, but I'm okay with that. Don't really know how to react to the world or my life, I pass it by and forget, move on. But, I'm okay with that too. Is it okay to be okay with being blank, not sad, just blank- is this what it feels like to live normally? Can't really tell, and I'm soon forgetting how I used to be. And maybe that's for the best.

I Know Why You Stopped By Woods on a Snowy Evening (A Poem in Response)

I am these woods but you don’t know.
On your horse, I watch you go
Into infinite night, only silence and I
Will know your wishes for the snow

I watch your face, creased in fear
The struggles of the past year
Have caught up to you, I see
And they lean and loom and leer

Give yourself a mighty shake
This is surely a costly mistake
Move forward with your worried steed
Don’t fall asleep among snowy flakes

I may be lovely, dark and deep
But you have promises to keep,
And miles to go before you sleep,
And miles to go before you sleep.

Artificial (A Prose Poem)

Feeling good today, the sun's glimmering like little jewels in stale light and though the wind is brutally cold I don't mind it at all, letting things roll off my sleeve like water droplets on green leaves in a breeze . . . have nothing to think about, nothing to worry about, just the free feeling I was given today and though I wonder if this wonderful feeling is artificial, hand crafted by brain power in a lab in the form of a peach tablet smaller than a pea, is this me, I don't know, maybe it's a new me ready to take on the world but I can't help but be afraid that maybe I was better off the way I was because it was all I knew and now I'm steadfast on a journey of becoming something new, uncharted territory, discovering things maybe eyes were not meant to see like riches at the bottom of the sea, but I take a long look around and my environment is augmented in ways that I cannot explain, color is beautiful, and people are happier because hey, I'm happier, and though the definition of happiness is different for some I think that this is what it is for me, and the help I needed to get here was all that I need.

Remembering October (An Occasional Poem)

Burial of a grandfather, October 15th, 2004

We stood in rows and leaned
like flowers wilting from the cold-
noses dripping, tears freezing into
clear crystals that fused onto faces
the quakes in our frigid bodies
outmatched by the quakes in our
brick heavy hearts

Upon your lawn,
hundreds of bodies shrouded
in blacks and grays-
and the mass reminded me of
an impending darkness intent
on swallowing me whole
and recoil as I may, I was afraid

And in the distance, holy words that
I wanted no part of, because
there was nothing holy in hands that
are meant to protect, taking what is ours
because there was nothing holy
in I, too young to feel such anguish and
anger that could not be quelled

And as they lowered your
wooden bed, we wept for dirt walls
that beckoned you home
the last parting gift we could give was
the sand we dropped into your grave,
where you would rest your head-
for eternity.

Be Still, My Breaking Heart

Be still, my
breaking heart, unravel
the binds that
tighten about your
flesh, the core
is made of string
easily cut by
hands that I know

Be still, my
breaking heart, do not
unravel the binds that
tighten about your
flesh, the feeling is
what keeps me alive,
the core is made of
string I'd like cut by
hands that I know

Be still, my
breaking heart, may
you be at peace with
the death of
a kindred flower I
could not care for
in the right way, for
I tried, although
it was not enough.

Far Gone

Too blank to even write anything. I don't even care. Today was horrible, but tomorrow will be worse.

Truth is, I was diagnosed with something today. The only support I have is myself, but when yourself dies a little every day, it turns out you're actually alone in this.

Tragic.

Not a Tale of Romeo & Juliet

I swell among walls, float
through halls dimmed and
endless
I touch the coldness of door
knobs and stray, then move on

I stray, I move on

Passerby's walk though my
misted figure of whites and
grays
But I only look for one
My ghostly heart, if it could,
would jump at the sight
of whom I seek.

Untitled

Those bones beaten and frayed,

layers skinned away by a blade
She'd collect all the pieces torn
and sneer at bones now worn

And the delicate nerves,
never did as they served
in moves they strummed like a bass
until you met me, my face-

A caring hand to take,
an easy pair we would make
I'd trace each crack, each dent
and off those demons went

And frailty, it did claim me
Though you were not able to see
I was left ever so brittle
And you did so little

Take not the rest
I have nothing left,
but the bones of me
to sickness, you lead

Dandelions & Daisies

Like a dandelion, she says, but I am aware that no one likes dandelions
when there are roses and posies, but more importantly: daisies
She says, dandelions are undeveloped daisies,
raggedy old things that catch in your throat and make you cough
While daisies sit elegant on their green pedestals,
admired and cherished by all who may lay eyes on them
She says, dandelions are fleeting things that cannot stay in one place
they scatter and make a mess of things
And I say, but couldn't dandelions be nice too,
they can float, they can fly, see everything from the sky
a flower that can travel all around the world?
She says that I'm a dandelion and she's a daisy.

Like a Thousand Stampeding Boars

I know now to never fall in love. Because it only brings a crippling pain not experienced before. I can only describe it as falling and then trying to catch your breath or perhaps even drowning in the blackest sea. Of course, there were great things to this human experience too, but I'm not yet sure if they outweigh the bad. I will miss some things, and other things I will not. I've set myself up for denial, but as the year passes I know that all at once the pain will rush at me like a thousand stampeding boars. The pain, I feel, will be much greater than the pain of loneliness I have experienced.

For that reason, and much bigger ones, there is no one else. There will be no one else to fill the space. I will fill it on my own, on a new course of loneliness. The knights may come, but I will refuse each one of them. All I wanted was you.

My Dog > People

Depending on people is like groping around on a frigid floor in pitch black darkness, looking for something to help you up- but you never seem to find something because nothing is really there. I'm entirely fed up and exhausted by the people I surround myself with, like I'm poisoning myself by my own consent and yet I don't realize it until the damage has been done. And I think to myself, 'Why do you always do this to yourself?' I knew loneliness too well in my younger years, but I got by, and it wasn't because of wretched people, it was because of my best friend I grew up with- my dog. My freaking dog has been there far more times than I can ever count, far more times than any person could ever be or has tried to be. I will forever be a lonely person surrounded by the people I think I need but are never there. And there, when I need her most, will be my best friend.

A World Worn (Revised)

Radiant seas salty and pure
tainted thick with night-
hug the fine edges of the earth
expanding from Her tears
And crisp air is a ghoul-
and he gobbles it up with greed
leaving soot in our mouths

Pain: sawing, metal pain She feels
All Her fallen children lay
in the back of a rusty old truck
And Her poor, precious creatures-
live in plastic packages
or flee for their existence
She will trudge across Her realm
and weep at beauty, now lost
And Mother Nature
will once again undo
the destruction-
of a world worn and dying.

Abuela (A Sonnet)

Blackened beads that have seen the world's own bones
Yet they still glow radiant warmth within
Upon her head, like raven's feathers sewn
Worn, satin skin yet toned with cinnamon

She speaks in tongue I cannot recognize
How I try but the barrier still stands
From Zacatecas, here she colonized
To be with family in a foreign land

"Te quiero mucho" is all we can say
But really that's all that needs to be said
We speak with embrace, there is no dismay
With love we tear the barrier to shreds

The unspoken words, they will never fade
Abuela and I speak the tongue we made

Once Upon a Time in Poetry Class...

I've been sitting here trying to think of something positive to write about, anything at all, and all I can think of is my brief bit of "fame" during my poetry class. We were doing a workshop, which is essentially when everyone writes a piece of poetry and we discuss it together. I remember looking up from my scrambled notes at the mention of my poem's title, followed by my name. Of course, I instantly assumed tomato-face position and remained silent as my poem was embarrassingly read aloud. It was what I've been waiting for and dreading at the same time- sharing my own written work in front of complete strangers. Up until then I had only shown my written works to the very tiny group of people I shared my blog with and a few family members. But anyway, as soon as my poem was finished being read- I sat idly by as it was thrashed to pieces...because they loved it. There's an elderly lady in my class, she was the first to speak, and for the life of me, I can't remember what she said because it was a long pause-less string of words coming out of her mouth. Something about pronouns, I think. The teacher cut in and said that this was her way of expressing how much she really loved the poem, and that her passionate criticism was a good thing (he's had her in another one of his classes). It seemed like we discussed my poem for hours, it was so surreal- there was actual debating going on about it...like how one person liked how vague it sounded while someone else didn't. And then class ended and a girl whom had never spoken a word to me before, came up to me and said my poem was the best out of everyone's. It was quite shocking, I was so sure that it wasn't my best work. I don't know if I've ever felt that good about myself before.

A Limmerick

Upon my window sill
Green willows near the mill
To call my home
This watery dome
Like a fish without gills

Randompoeticlines

Something random from my poetry writing class.

Empty as my hollow grave,
songless birds
of silent sounds.

Against the Flow it Seems

I feel staked to this cold ground which has forsaken me. I do not know where to go, what to do. I am totally and completely blank, a lost cause to my own self. I attended a college graduation ceremony today and the speaker's words were a bad taste in my mouth I just wanted to spit out. All lies, nothing they said is that easy. Or perhaps everything they said didn't pertain to me at all. It was like listening to someone speak a foreign language, and only those in the colors of their school could understand the meaning. Those lucky enough to taste sweet success could hear the syllables roll off the tongue and understand every signifcant meaning of their futures. Not me, for as of right now I have none. It is the most frightening realization I have come to know.

People wonder why I'm always a ball of stress ready to explode at any given time. Well, here's why: because all my life nothing has ever gone right. The stress is necessary to cushion the expected disappointment. It's sort of a twisted coping mechanism. It can't be healthy mentally, but I've done it for as long as I can remember.

Happiness seems so distant now, and all I know is self hatred and stress. Will I ever find normalcy? Or is this it for me?

"And I'm lonesome when you're around."

I look at you, looking at me, but you do not see me- I am transparent, pale faced, a white sheet. I move and your ears do not detect the sound. I weep, but you do not see the water glistening on my face. You walk through me and it is unbearable. You used to look, and view me with such light that I thought that perhaps I was the beacon guiding you to me. But such radiance diminished, I think back, retrace- wondering where it went. Is it my flaws? How I've tried and tried and receive nothing in return. There is only so much that you can take before there is nothing left. And I fear that I am at my wits end, for I have nothing left to give. What more then? I am already empty, as deathly as my ghostly flesh. Take my eyes, and my heart too, this sacrifice for dying love is worth it to me.

Thinking Back, to a Better Place

Take me back to the woods of Minnesota. I despise society's constant sound. It's wretched and grotesque, like a screeching devil. I long for crystal waters. The sweet smell of pine trees in the morning. I long for the danger, going head to head with a mama moose and treacherous, stormy waters. I miss the simplicity, the leisure and charting our own course. Time was endless, and my body, ageless. I miss the silky night, which enshrouded me in a frigid blanket. How I completely miss the feeling of being stranded and alone. No people, no buildings, no irritating noise. Just me, in a city of trees and nature's melodies.

Untitled

To me, there is no greater mystery, no greater awe, no greater question of the world with the dying words of a very intelligent man: "happiness only real when shared."

October in January

I recall the time
all your loves
gathered-
in variant grays

a yellow flower
in your suit pocket

a reminder of me
for when you go
but to stay and wither
with you, forevermore

with each fist of sand
granule by granule
I watched them fall
with you, forevermore
we wept for dirt walls
which beckon you home

I shall not want
what cannot be
but this, a plea,

don't forget me

Letter to the Loved

Isn't it comical that the people who are supposed to care about you most end up being the ones that tear you down? I have no inkling as to the nature of it, whether they notice their actions and words or not. For me, it doesn't matter. You just don't do that- I have to rely on you, I need you to lead me to the correct course. How can any of those things happen if you break the trust I share with you? I don't need you to tell me how to live my life, I just need your simple support and nothing more. Leave the rest to me, loves. This is my life to live.

Like a Hermit Crab

Been a while. Moved homes. Moving again in a year. I'm tired. I just want to stay in one place. I want to feel safe. But there is no such thing as safety in a violent world. I suppose this feels more like home, I haven't really come to a definite conclusion yet- whenever I leave homey walls I don't feel safe. We'll see in the weeks to come.

Also been doing a bit of reconnecting. Feels good. Finding out it's something that I've needed to fill an ancient void.