Dear You

I'm really expecting a lot from you.

I'm really praying for you to make everything change. Maybe I'm trying to get you to compensate for things that you said. Things that you did. Things that I still think about every day.

Maybe I need this from you to prove to myself that things are not what they seem. The way things are right now is just weird to tell people. Everyone wants to know things. I have nothing to tell them.

Maybe all of this energy that I spend on all that's happened and all that I need is draining me. Maybe these thoughts won't stop passing through each day. I'm afraid of that. It's hindering a closeness that I'm trying to achieve. It's like trying to walk but getting your shirt caught on something. You try to keep moving but you can't, and trying to remedy the snag is embarrassing, cumbersome work.

It's hard to say.

But sometimes I feel like you are still a child.

And sometimes I get really mad.

Because your lack of responsibility is astounding.

And I am so very frustrated.

Because I can't trust you and I can't stop thinking about it.

No matter how much I talk about it, it just doesn't get better. And every day it's becoming more and more apparent that I'm being held back by this. We are not growing, we are receding, and I don't know how you can't see it.

It's the things you say that you'll do, that you don't.

It's the things that you waste time on.

It's the things that you said you didn't do, that I know you did.

It's the unanswered questions that I'm left to cope with by myself.

I need you to know that this could quickly turn into the end.

I need you to know that if you asked me again, I'd say no, not now.

I need you to know that you absolutely have to fix this.

Because I sure as hell can't, and I sure can't take this anymore.

Insomniac

The fact that I happen to possess a horrible sleep pattern needs to be made common knowledge. It may account for my behavior.

My last two jobs have been evening and night jobs. This fits conveniently into my life.

I have not been able to sleep during the night time hours for more than two consecutive nights since I was a very tiny child. I can remember being about six or seven years old, rolling around in my bed to no avail. I would creep over to the bookshelf to collect all of my favorite books and I would deposit them in my bed for what was sure to be a long night. This happened nearly every evening. The spines of many of my books actually fell apart from my late night reading.

I've been trying to figure out how to fix my sleeping problem for years.

I can be completely exhausted and not fall asleep.

I think I just lack the ability to lower the volume on my thoughts in order to relax.

When I finally do slumber, I think I am actually just passing out. Like my body just goes into complete protest and my mind races right up until the point of no return.

Tonight is another in a myriad of attempts to right the pattern.

Maybe since I stayed up and just saw the sunrise, I can hold out all the way through the day today, and on through work tonight. Then maybe my body will protest at the right hour for once.

Sign of the Times

Contentment is hard to find.

So is elation.

It seems that these days, just being able to cope is a marvelous feat.

That's a shame.

Bring Da Ruckus

My musical taste is questionable.

What do hip-hop and slow-core have in common?

Apparently me.

I like to believe that I am a very difficult person to comprehend.

Mr. President

Dear Mr. President,

People danced in the streets when you won.

So many flocked to your inauguration.

A pilgrimage of sorts.

What is going to happen to us?

When will we be able to make ends meet?

Middle class families can barely afford food.

Kids enrolled in community colleges.

They planned to wait out the crisis and go to better schools later.

They didn't get there.

When are they going to come home?

Low flying airplanes struck fear into people's hearts.

We still don't feel safe.

When will America be able to sleep at night again?

Please help us.

Love,

Autumn

I'm Alright

I think I know who I am.

It was questionable there for a while.

I'm a strong believer that depression can be overcome without therapy.

And that imbalances can be overcome without medication.

I think I'm living proof.

I think it's good to be happy.

I think it's healthy to be sad.

I think it's natural to be over emotional.

To be too much.

I really think that thinking helps a lot.

It's really a forgotten art.

Thinking about yourself.

Instead of trying to put your feelings under control, maybe you should just cradle them.

How you feel is just as much a part of who you are as the way that you think.

And what you decide to do.

I really don't think there is anything wrong with being human.

And experiencing yourself naturally.

And I really think that you would benefit from doing so.

To just take yourself as you are.

Maybe I'm just crazy.

And am alright with being so.

Perhaps you should be as well.

Pinpoint Bleeding

I really hate my skin.

I could deal with blemishes, those go away.

What I can't get over are the wounds all over my legs.

Leaving one area to crop up in another.

Autoimmune disease.

Do you know what it feels like to watch your body fight off itself?

Genetic malfunction.

People look at it, even people who know me.

And they just have to talk about it.

It does not go away.

Everyone wants to find a cure for cancer. Well there is. It's called chemotherapy.

Find a cure for this.

For the people whose skin keeps overproducing cells to fight itself off.

It can cover the whole body.

Inflaming the joints.

Folding nails in on themselves and crumbling.

The excesses skin comes away and the skin underneath starts bleeding.

I could get a tiny scratch.

With one tiny germ inside.

And my skin would build itself over the area until the flesh is disfigured.

Falling apart.

Imagine your body, every thirty days, shedding and replacing the skin.

Fresh and new.

Now imagine my body, every three days, replacing skin over skin that hasn't left.

Dean skin coming off in the wrong places.

Bloody and cracked.

Imagine it getting worse for a lifetime.

It does not get better.