A Millennial Choosing A Career

I think that I can actually do this,
Although I won’t claim that it is my calling,
It was more something I fell into,
And something that is proving I was meant to do,
Because this appears to come naturally,
The ability to organize and deceive,
Those who are surrounding me,
Making them believe that I know what I am doing,
And that is something that I will continue proving,
As I learn and experience the things that are hard to itemize,
Growing and expanding a resume I never aimed to comprise,
Yet having this feeling that it is all coming together,
In ways that I never expected when perceiving my own disaster,
Of work experience and doing what I had to do to get by,
Yet never giving anything I do an honest try,
Because I was too preoccupied with the conflict raging inside,
Telling me that this is not my destiny,
And I was meant to be more if I truly believe,
But I am coming to terms that it might be true,
That this is what I was meant to do,
It is what comes easily and what I was educated on fully,
Making it the obvious choice for what I should be doing,
While realizing that if this is what I did without trying,
There are far more possibilities that I have been denying,
So what if I committed to this today,
And finally gave it a try in my own way,
I could realize the chance I have,
To live a life that fits me and the person I want to be,
While using that which comes naturally.

A Thankless Task

I hate that I have hate for you,
Because the truth is that I truly love you.
I hate that you do these things that you do,
Because the truth is that I have more faith in you,
Then you seem to ever gather,
And you never seemed to believe,
That you are someone who can change it all around,
Because you are never willing to put your head down,
In an effort of focus and a practice of self-discipline,
Recognizing and allowing your true feelings in,
Of regret and disappointment,
Allowing yourself to feel some guilt for the things you forgot,
While you were drinking and smoking your life away,
And delaying your opportunity to convey,
The dreams you once had for this life.

But I am coming to the realization now,
That you might have never had dreams then or now,
And you might have just been scraping by,
Waiting for the next opportunity to get high.
I might have misplaced my faith,
And you were always destined for this fate,
Of destitution and disablement,
Unable and complacent.
I am beginning to think that you always struggled,
And that I am harping on old issues for which you have no rebuttal,
Because you have never tried to change,
And I am the first to make you face your pain,
Leaving me in the role of the older sibling,
Allowing you the chance to listen,
To the struggles and experiences I have been through,
And the things that they could teach you.

But you don’t want to listen,
And I am beginning to lose faith in you,
Because you continue to do the things you always do.
Leaving me to debate if my efforts are worth it,
And if I saving someone who deserves it,
Since again and again I extend a helping hand,
And again and again I am burned in the end.
So here is your last chance for redemption to see,
Or at least I think it will be,
That you are taking me for granted,
And I will no longer be taken advantage,
Because you will be cut off,
And I will do it without a fifth thought.

Our Own Worst Enemy

How do introductions among women still begin or end with descriptions of their men —
Hi, how are you? What are the things you like to do? And who are you attached to?
How did our attachment become a simple fact,
So that we no longer hold value of our own,
And we need someone else to bring the bacon home.
Or even if we have the ability to pay for dinner ourselves,
How do our men still come up in conversation over it?
What does it matter who you are dating or attached to?
I don’t know them, I know you.
I honestly don’t give a fuck about the things they may do.
I asked about you and what you do.
I might be bitter from a lack of attachment,
Or I may be upset about the support that I lack,
But really what irks me is that we as a collective can’t seem to speak without relating it back,
To the images we are trying to break free from with our independence,
And the actions we took to prove our ability to be everything a man can be,
But the fact of it being that when I ask a man those same questions —
How are you? What are the things you like to do? —
They cut me off before I can even assume that there is someone they are attached to.

Fighting The Culture I Grew Up In

I wish I was less American —
I wake up in a panic,
Worried that I’ve slept through work,
When really I’ve barely slept enough to make my body work.
I stress that I am not putting in enough hours,
That I am falling behind and someone will notice,
Scared I am no longer top of the class,
And that all the opportunities I dreamed of might pass me by.
I wish that I did not believe in the dream —
The idea that we all have a chance if we work hard enough,
And that luck is of no consequence,
Instead we trust in the promise of the impossible,
Since determination has promised to make it possible,
To live the dreams we always heard of,
Giving us the ability to rise above,
The class we were born into and the trials it lends to,
If only we keep that dream alive,
Believing in a lack of compromise.
But I truly wish it wasn’t so —
That I could brush off the seeds I am destined to sow,
Of guilt and regret,
Self-consciousness and internal debate,
Pride and remorse,
The belief that I might change this course,
And begin anew with what I was truly destined to do.
But the pressure is too much,
And I am being crushed under the weight,
To the point where I am debating,
If this life is even worth saving,
Or if I should finally cave in and be more European —
Taking naps in the middle of the day,
And three weeks vacation every year,
Learning to embrace the things I truly hold dear,
Such as family and friends,
And sharing a glass of wine with all of them,
Not disturbed by a lack of productivity,
And unconcerned about tasks that are never ending,
Allowing myself to truly enjoy,
The little things that make this life so much more,
Than a never ending race to the top,
With never ending trials destroying what we first sought,
To be content with this life and what we’ve been provided,
And savor the moments in which we regularly reside in,
Not allowing anything to be for granted,
And being thankful for all that is demanded,
In order to live life to the fullest,
And have the strength to continue through this.

I Am A Woman Of A Different Kind

I identify with women of strong nature and ignited minds,
The kind who wake up in the morning embracing the day,
Versus the kind who sigh their lives away,
I am the type of woman who hates shopping,
And can’t stand small talking,
I crave deep connections and something greater,
Than placing a well balanced meal on the table,
In a cute apron with my hair did up,
Distracting from the vodka in my cup.
I want something more than to be adored —
I never want to feel overwhelmingly bored with my life,
And I want to be my own master,
Controlling the dreams and goals that I chase after,
Instead of leaving that to my man,
Or someone with a ‘more capable’ hand,
Since I am capable enough and skin has grown tough,
From years of navigating this all on my own,
And embracing this feeling of being alone,
With no one to hold my hand,
And only myself to tell me that I can,
Do whatever it is I want to do,
And know that I am being true to myself,
Never compromising for the sake of another,
And never seeing that as a blunder.
Because I am the type of woman who is strong enough to withstand,
Whatever might have been laid in my hand,
And the type of person who has support,
From more than just one person I claim to be my man.
I have built my own family and nurtured my own children,
And I am only at the beginning of this young life,
I have so much more living to do,
And I have so much that I want to see through,
Not allowing the lack of a partner to deter me from what I am after,
And not seeing it as a hinderance to what I aim to master —
To be the type of woman I would chase after.
I am the type of woman who wants to love herself first,
The type who does not see being single as a curse,
I am the woman I had always hoped to be,
And I was the woman who made this my reality,
I give myself credit for my selfish acts,
Because I come first in this life long pact,
To survive and be alive,
And provide inspiration for my own life,
Because if I do not love myself,
Then who can I expect to to see value in me?
And what will this life prove to provide,
If I am not willing to stand by my own side?
And who would I be if I am not able to see,
The woman I have worked so hard to set free.

Hello Old Friend

Allow me to reintroduce myself —
I am the woman who you’ve left on a shelf,
Forgotten about and wrapped up in a shell,
Of the image of a girl who you once knew,
And the habits that you once knew me to do.
I am the friend who you’ve always had,
Out of love, guilt, or awareness that I was once so sad,
And I struggled to live through the experiences we shared,
Barely remembering the secrets I bared.
Because I am no longer that girl,
And I can’t recall who she even was,
Since my memories are missing like a lost glove,
I have hope that I one day might recover the thoughts I once had,
And that they might come wandering back with a feeling of love,
But at the moment I can’t recall the person you met,
And I can’t understand the patience you kept,
Despite me being a shit friend,
And not remembering the moments we shared,
Or the times when I truly did care,
About who you thought I might be,
And what I thought you might see in me.
I apologize for the times I have forgot,
And my actions that may have left you distraught,
Because I held an obvious lack of caring,
Leading you to believe that at times I was more daring,
When in fact I just didn’t care.
But you still stood by my side,
And I still find you giving my a chance to prove,
That I am more than an excuse to smoke,
And I can believe in the words I once spoke out of hope,
To become something bigger and better,
And transcend the life we once shared together,
Leaving behind the image of the girl we both once knew,
And becoming the woman we both hoped would come through.

Lasting Side Effects

How did I develop this issue of abandonment?
When I was raised by a mother and father who loved me so clearly,
And I held a life that others would accept so readily.
How did this become something I need to learn to handle?
When I always knew that I am loved,
And I have a family that is there for me.
What did I do to deserve such an issue?
When all I gave was trust,
And all I received was acceptance.
How do I have something to complain about?
When I have no doubt that I had a good childhood,
And I was healthy and happy, albeit a bit misunderstood.
Was it the anger I saw projected by my oldest brother?
Or the depression I saw by the other?
Was it the silence of my younger sister?
Or the struggle I could not deny my mother was under?
Was it simply the loss of my father?
Or is abandonment something I have always harbored?
What made me doubt that I am someone to value?
And what made me assume that I will always be forgotten?
How did I accept this begotten state of fear?
And never try to hold anyone near?
I have few who I think of as family,
And fewer I consider friends,
Leaving me closed off from almost everyone in the end.
I am weary of new relationships,
To the point where I have become complacent,
Proud of my capacity for detachment,
Boasting about my reflexive reaction to shut down and close off,
Leaving nothing for men to do but take my clothes off,
Having no emotions to tend to and nothing from my mind to lend,
Devoid of all feeling that could make this mean more,
Than an easy fuck on their bedroom floor.
I have no follow up and no regret for messing this up,
Since I assume that my body was the only thing they were after,
And my personality was just a distraction from this factor.
But am I doing myself an injustice?
And are there others I can really learn to trust?
Despite being left by the ones I loved the most?
Can I relearn to love in the presence of such a haunting ghost?
And if so, what is there for me to really find?
What would a life look like of that kind?
How can I trust that someone might be there to catch me when I fall?
When I have spent so many years bracing myself for the impact,
And the final call where I find myself standing alone once again,
And I have only myself to count on in the end.
Finding that all my efforts were made in vain,
And the fight not being worth all the pain,
That I knew I would experience if I allowed others in,
And I had to let go of them once again.
But despite knowing that I will be alone at the end —
Are people worth believing in?
Are they worth trusting?
Are they worth the experience?
Can I see value before inevitable retreat?
Are there people I can value in a moment?
And others I can trust to last through it?
What has made me so suspicious?
And how can I not accept a simple kiss,
Without flinching and cringing,
Resisting the urge to run away from it all,
And accept my inevitable fall,
Into darkness and depression,
Because I have no one left to listen,
Since I pushed them all away,
In a desperate effort to survive another day,
Without experiencing the familiar feeling of loss,
And move on at all costs,
From this lingering feeling of regret,
That I never had the chance to say the things that needed to be said,
Allowing a hole to be ripped through the middle of my heart,
And a punch to be laid square in my gut,
Knocking the wind out of my lungs,
And suppressing my mind to be numb,
So that I am not consumed by thoughts of the moments that we never shared,
And the remorse of never showing that I truly cared.
While the truth was that I cared too much,
And leaving was the last thing I considered,
Taking for granted the words that I remitted,
Before I no longer had the opportunity to speak them.
How did this become a desperate search for attachment?
While dependency is something I have always lacked.

Bliss of Youthful Ignorance

I once decided I would start speaking out loud,
At an age young enough to recognize I had no choice,
And an age old enough where I was expected to already have a voice.
I remember the decision so clearly,
That I was not satisfied with who I was being,
And I wanted to change completely,
I can recall the moment when I declared I would start speaking –
I was ten and recognized that I this could be the end,
Of the person I had known myself to be,
And the fear that constantly silenced me,
I made the decision to take the leap,
And express the secrets that I would so easily keep,
Hidden for the rest of my life,
If I allowed myself to continue on without a plan,
To change completely who I am.
It was as simple as that,
And I approached the task as a fact of life,
Something that I had to accept to set right,
It was a flaw that I was born with,
And a challenge for me to perform any act,
That involved the experience of social interaction,
And the expectation that I could speak without a reaction,
That was violent and debilitating,
Providing me with the feeling that everything is crushing in,
As I opened my mouth to speak three simple words,
Overly conscious of the fact that I might sound absurd.
So I vowed to put an end to the struggle,
And woke up one day with the determination to be another,
Kind of person than I had known all of my life,
And introduce new experiences from which I am now derived,
Pushing myself to see what it truly means to be alive,
Not allowing my character flaws to be a hindrance,
To the life I wanted to experience.
I once decided this with such determination,
That it is hard for me to now recognize that forbearance,
And the young girl who operated with timid boldness,
Making a resolution all in my head,
And allowing it to become my reality instead,
Leaving no excuses for it being outside of my ability,
And truly believing in what I could be.
Where has that young girl and her determination gone to?
Because I need her to hold my hand with what I am going through,
Questioning yet again the person I am meant to be,
And suffering from the weight of all the possibility,
I need her guidance and her faith,
That I can accept the crushing weight,
Of the facts that are unavoidable,
And the possibility that this is something I can thrive through.

A Flock Of Ravens

I want to shit rainbows and puke butterflies.
I want the feeling of hope to never die.
I want life to be what I imagined it to be —
I want to finally set myself free.
I can see that others are doing it,
But wonder if I am the only one pursuing this,
Because I don’t see anyone else believing in it.
We all say we want our life to change,
And none of us want to delay,
The reward that we see at the end of this tunnel,
And the reason for which we endure this struggle,
But I struggle to find inspiration of the unique kind,
In the people who surround me,
And the thoughts that confound we,
Since peace is not thought of first,
And acceptance is not what we provoke with hurt,
Aimed at others in the trials we face,
Attempting to place blame on another’s face,
Since we will not accept that there is anything to regret,
In the actions we took to take another step,
And continue to survive,
Claiming that we are truly alive,
While we sip on this toxin,
And inhale this numbness,
Swallowing pills to erase our own blunders,
Since mistakes are not something we will admit,
And learning is something we seem to remit.
But I crave to break this cycle,
I want to end this denial,
And embrace the simple healing of a smile.
So I turned to a friend,
Who always knows me best in the end,
And she inspired me to believe that I truly can,
Shit rainbows,
And puke butterflies,
If I only allowed myself to try.

Blind To Myself

This feeling has been building for years,
My expectations have been set high for ages,
And my flaws were always the first thing I saw —
Until today.
I have felt the pressure crushing in,
I expect that I will eventually fail,
And I brace myself for the inevitable fall —
Until I saw my face.
I thought that this was just a wistful hope,
I considered everything I did to be a joke,
Because failure was something I had come to accept —
Until I opened my eyes to the possibility of regret.
It took a friend who truly listened,
I needed someone I could trust in,
To accept me as I was —
Until I am ready to be who I will become.
I do not recognize this face I see in my mirror,
But I recognize them as someone I might learn to hold dear,
Embracing both their hopes and fears —
Until who I am has become clear.