Doubtful

I’m in one of those moods.

Feeling forever doubtful about poetry and my work.

I’m gradating soon and I have seen so many of my fellow talented writers leave college and to never write again.

I don’t want that to happen to my poems.

But is this a real thing? Many moments throughout my day consist of the thought, am I really good at this whole poetry writing stuff or is everyone just being really nice to me? Because who would say, “Well Sally maybe you should try something else.” This is all I got, I love it, I live for it, it’s what makes me feel better and I am the most happy writing and performing. But how will I make money? How will I get into a great MFA (Full time or low residency)

I want to be the best, but this just never seems to be in the cards for me, well I suppose I just need to dig really deep.

I’m just been so down on myself this week and my work. Maybe it’s the period, maybe the terrible back pain that makes me sleepy and in exhausted. MaybeI’m just facing some hard facts.

I don’t know what else to do but keep writing and performing.

Egg Shells

 

I’ve continued to have egg cracking throughout various dreams these last few weeks. To the point within my dream last night there were thousands of egg shells all over the floor. I was bare foot and I was crying but I was also so very happy at the same time. I suppose they must have been happy tears.

*Breaking out of my shell*

That’s what I’ve been telling myself I’m doing. I’m breaking out of my shell. Which makes a lot of sense. I’ve been feeling  irritated by certain people around me *men* in particular and the injustice I’ve been not only about how certain men view me as a woman but the other women around has been exhausting.

To realize a dear guy friend of mine has been a core reason for why my poetry has seem to be slipping past my finger tips is a rather very upsetting realization. To not write feminists, to have a smaller voice. The very issues I have been writing about started to become me because I trusted him, my friend and all it got me was tears and the frustration of, “what’s going on?”

I can only hope I’ve gotten back on the right track?

God I’m praying, I know I don’t pray very often but God, Universe, the World I need a big win right now. That would be awesome. Please.

There’s a lot going through my head right now and I did the good feelings to come back.

Today writing they did come back and I’m hoping the feelings are the same again. So I’m going to keep pushing through and hope each day gets better and better.

And even though *breaking out of my shell* has been one of the hardest changes of my life, its one of the happiest most worthwhile experiences and I know I’m going to be a  strong, proud, powerful woman at the end of this all.

I can’t wait to see my poetry and I can’t wait to meet this new woman coming out of her shell.

Fell Off the Wagon

 

 

 

That’s right I had sex on Tuesday night. Do I remember having sex? Not really, besides the memory of grabbing the wall and screaming a bit I don’t remember. Did I drink a bit too much? Yes I did, after two 32 oz. ciders, two Vegas Bombs and two very dark beers within two hours, I think I can safely say I drank too much. 

Also waking up in my hook ups female roommates bed naked and no memory of that, well that helps too. 

What did I learn from this? I HAVE NO SHAME AND I’M VERY COMFORTABLE WITH MY BODY! TOO MUCH! This moment deserves a true *Laugh out loud*

OH SHIT! 

Bruiser changed his mind and decided may be using me to get over another girl. So he thinks its best that nothing comes of us. I’m rather upset about this and I would be lying if Tuesday drunk sexscapes didn’t have anything to do with the texts I got from him that night. You think by 24 years old I would have stopped pulling the I’m sad about a boy time to hook-up situation. 

I’m very disappointed in how this is turning out. I like that dumb ass and it kills me to just step back. But I’ve learned no one wants you fighting for them. Because fighting for someone is just a fancy word for stalking. 

But did I not go to a party, extremely dressed up, curled hair wearing my lace turquoise dress and brown boots? Yes, I did. Did I do it to see him for a brief moment? Yes. And It wasn’t long enough. 

And ending this post with no real ending, because how can I end a post about a feeling that I’m not ready to be done with? 

 

 

 

Pull it together Sally

I almost cried at the first coffee shop I was at this morning. I’m onto my second coffee shop and I’m crying.

It’s amazing that one person can be in a room full of people and no one seems to notice to that one person crying. Don’t get me wrong I rather they not notice me crying and I’m keeping it pretty much concealed.

I decide to text that one guy I’ve been speaking to. I know as soon as Valerie reads this post she’s going to kill me but frankly I could no longer handle it. I can no longer handle this back and forth I’ve been dealing with the moment I hooked-up with him.

I like him, more than my mind and body says I should. Or that high power in your bones that tells you to just move on but you can’t and you’re no entirely sure why but you hang on anyhow.

But after Thrilla and after The one that turned out to be an asshole I just can’t handle this anymore. I was doing just fine without all of this knowing he liked me. Because I emotional can’t this back and forth. This speaking to me one moment and then disappearing the next, between school, Ex baggage, my cat, the lost of friendships and my overall stress of my disability I’ve been carrying around these last few weeks. I can’t handle it.

I’m so overwhelmed

Not sure where I begin and where the rest of me has ended up.