You can Only Read this if you Pretend it’s Thursday

Listen.

Yes, I am late on posting this today.  It’s not even Thursday anymore.  There are few excuses that can surface.  I know.

So I will tell you what happened.

I met up with some friends at an ice cream place to catch up.  And later I met another friend at a coffee shop to talk about poetry.  Also I worked.

When I got home, my eyes were unbelievably itchy, so I took an allergy pill … then I fell asleep at 8:30.

So now I have awoken slightly panicked at 3:30, realizing I should have just gone ahead and blogged with my itchy eyes.  Rip.

Sooooooooooooo … here is a poem that I wrote for you all special at 4 am with the help of my new puppy.

 

Roses are red,

violets are blue,

I’m disappointed in myself

and I bet you are too.

 

I’m kidding!

That’s not the special 4 am poem!

This one is:

 

My high school asked a little too much from me.  When

physics class drove me to panic attacks because I felt

trapped by what I was expected to do, because I felt

trapped by a class I didn’t want to take because I

knew I wouldn’t understand it.  At this point, I had

faked any real science, getting away with a briefly

memorized periodic table, and periodic google searches.

(My physics teacher: though she helped me drop her class

I don’t think she ever bothered to see it from my side.  The

disappointment in her eyes whenever she saw me breaks my

heart enough to never try her type of learning again.  How could

someone so nice and loved by my classmates

torture a hurting girl so much and not know it?)

The desperation of the situation drove me to do things

I didn’t know I was capable of and I still wear the scars like

invisible badges that only I am aware of.

invisible torture  invisible torture

Naturally, I did what any artist would do at that point.

I dove into my work.  I became my writing because it

was the only thing to do when you lost everything.

I evolved into poetry to make sure I was incapable

of disappointing anyone again.  It cost me too much.

—& now, three years later, I couldn’t be Happier with What I’ve Become

 

So, apparently this situation is what comes to mind when I think of disappointment.  The time I totally changed the high school degree I was going for, just so I wouldn’t have to take physics … some people can’t write poetry.  I can’t do science.  At least not the way they tried to teach me in one-size-fits-all education.  ¯\_| ✖ 〜 ✖ |_/¯

Happy 4 am poetry session!  I’m probably the only person that does this, but it’s okay.  We can still celebrate it together.

And remember: sometimes it’s okay to admit you can’t do something!
***Mental Health Comes First.***
***Mental Health Comes First.***
***Mental Health Comes First.***
You have to do things for yourself.  Because in the end, the only person that will save you is yourself.  It’s not selfishness.  It’s literally taking care of yourself.

🙂 PSA over.  Hope I helped at least one person, because then spilling my guts will be worth it.

So now, I must go get ready for work.  My shift starts in a couple of hours and my fur-baby needs more attention because she’s whining right beside me.

I probably forgot to tell you, but I got a new puppy.  Her name is Alice and I love her.

Thank you for reading!  I really appreciate the attention you give my work.  🙂

 

One thought on “You can Only Read this if you Pretend it’s Thursday

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