aunt bea and i were talking about how each christmas my mom would make chitlins and though i loved the taste of them with just the right amount of vinegar the smell when they were cooking was what i imagined hell would smell like aunt bea smiled and said child getting what you want sometimes […]

via chitlins at christmas… — Read Between the Minds

Isn’t this the story of all our lives?

The Ways of the World

Always stopping myself
From living
Because I think I shouldn’t,
Because I can’t,
Because I have no right to do so.

Living is not something for me.
It’s not something I can do.
It’s something I must watch
And applaud
And congratulate,
But not participate in.
It’s not something I’m allowed to do.

I can’t dream either.
That is foolish of me.
That is not something I have time for.
That is a luxury,
Not a necessity.
What I need to do
Is submit,
To follow,
To listen,
To do as I am told,
To be quiet,
To go along with,
To be humble
And not bold,
Not my own person
With objections,
One who questions
The way things are.
I should be obedient,
Okay with not understanding,
And simply
Work hard.

But not at what I want to do
Or who I want to be.
I must work to be admired
By the eyes surrounding me.
It matters not
That I don’t believe
In what I’m told I should become,
Because in time I’ll surely see
It was the right thing to have done,
So whatever thoughts I have
Of living life how I see fit
Should completely be abandoned
And done away with.

There was nothing wrong with dreaming
When I was a little girl,
But by now I must have realised
The ways of the world.

On Being A Soldier

The other day a coworker of mine called me a soldier. He said that I work like one, that I always want to follow the rules, but that things don’t always work that way. I understood him. I knew what he meant. I know I’m like that. That’s how I was raised. Obey your elders. Use things for what they were made for. Come back from school the way I sent you there. 

I’ve been thinking about what my coworker said and the fact that he chose to compare my work ethic to that of a soldier. I recall that word being used to describe me before, but it had an entirely different connotation. Before, I was a soldier because I was a child of God. I was a soldier that was constantly battling with the enemy. I was a soldier that was being challenged and tested in order to be made stronger.

I was a soldier who was dying.


I find myself talking to God lately. I’m surprised by it. This morning, as I was about to eat a plate of food, I gave thanks for it, and I included the name of Jesus. I was surprised by that too. I shook the thought out of my head and started eating on my way to my laptop where my drama episode was waiting on Viki.

That’s how it happens. I say thanks for things, because I am thankful, and then I pause at the fact that I’m talking to Him, and then I wonder why I’m receiving these things, why He’s giving them to me. Before I left work last night, at my new job at a supermarket, a coworker, on her way out, gave me two coupons for items that were already on sale in the store. I was able to purchase those items for 20% of their usual cost. That sent me over the moon. It was whip cream on top of the sales that I had accidentally encountered two days before. Their timing was perfect. The same way the timing was perfect when I found an apartment, and when I got this new job. I was in disbelief, yet very grateful at the same time. On my way home, in answer to the question of why God was doing these things for me, why He was taking care of me in this way, a voice in my head said that it was because He had seen my suffering. I let that thought go in the wind that was blowing and quickened my pace to the train station. I was still thankful though.


This morning on my way to work I wondered whether or not I should text my best friend and tell her about these things. She’s also on a not-so-straight religious journey and I wondered what she would think. Last night before I went to sleep I wondered if I should tell my boyfriend. He has his own set of beliefs, though they’re not unique to him, and I wondered what he would think. I don’t know what I think. Not yet.

I don’t intend to go back to church because of this. I don’t want to go in search of another religion either. I do know that I have never believed in God being nonexistent, so it’s okay to acknowledge and talk to Him. I don’t want to be a soldier though, of any kind. I don’t want to be tested, to be put through fire, to be molded, to be broken, any of that. I don’t want to be rigid and unmovable. I don’t want to fight.

I got myself a pen pal last night. I found her on Instagram.

That’s not what I wanted to write about.

For the summer I’m hoping to finally start arranging my poems into chapters so that maybe I can get them published together as some sort of anthology.

Not sure if that is what I wanted to write about.

I miss my mother, a lot. It would be really great if I could talk to her about this new change in my life – me moving, and the cause of it.

Definitely wasn’t going to write about that.

I miss blogging. I want to do it more often. I definitely could since I have more time on my hands now. It’s just that I don’t know what I want to write about. I certainly have things on my mind, but I don’t know what I should reveal and what I should keep to myself. What can I blog about? What should I just write in my journal? Should I even still write in my journal?


I’m beginning to wonder if all the ideas I have in my head are going to stay there – all the places I want to go to, the things I want to do and say. Will they stay in my head or will they be able to make it out, to come to fruition? I wonder if I should abandon them so as not to be too hurt when (if) they don’t come true, if they don’t make it. I wonder if I should abandon these doubts and really try to make these ideas more than just ideas. They don’t make sense to other people. Other people don’t understand why I want these things, how these things could possibly benefit me. But I understand. These things won’t benefit me. They’ll make me happy. I don’t have a reason. I just want to do them. I just want to live.

I want to live for myself. I don’t care about being called selfish. I know that’s what I am. But I think it’s fine.

I don’t want someone else running my life, telling me what to do with it. I want to do it for myself, not by myself, but for myself. Everyone has opinions and everyone sees life from a different angle. My angle counts. What I see counts. What I think counts. I see no reason for it to be disregarded. I acknowledge that I have not lived a great many number of years. I acknowledge that I am lacking, in many areas. But I will not be made to feel as if what I think is not significant because of that. I will not be belittled for having my own opinions and perspectives. I will not subscribe to the idea that I am stupid or foolish, for thinking the way I do and wanting the things I want.

I am not one for inspirational thinking, or any thing that is meant to be uplifting, but I am becoming very tired of so frequently being positioned beneath the feet of others.

Snap Out Of It

Tonight’s as good a night as any to lie down and think about life, like I haven’t been thinking about it all day, like thinking about it all day wasn’t the reason I was in a slump all day, because life is such a nice thing to think about what with me lacking roots and the courage to find them.

Today, like all other days, I thought about society and its expectations of me, my family and its expectations of me, and how I am failing to meet these expectations because I’m not entirely sure what they are. That and I don’t want to meet some of these expectations because I think they are either pointless or a complete waste.

There is me wanting to be an individual person and not worry so much about others and what they think because that is a terribly big source of stress and I have quite enough of that with my school work and my job and having to put up with unpleasant people so very often. There is also the recent realisation that maybe I’m forgetting that the unpleasant people I find to be a source of stress in my life are still people who have their own stresses to deal with which gives them a legitimate reason not to tend to mine, you know, because they’re busy, working and taking care of whatever businesses they have to take care of; adult things that I don’t have to deal with yet and that I’m not in a rush to get to.

There’s also the larger society which involves religious and racial groups. This is problematic for me because I no longer identify myself with a religious group and the racial group I’m supposedly a part of is further divided into different ethnic groups and those don’t always see eye to eye. There’s just a lot of discord that I have no idea what to make of so even though I “think” about it I don’t really go into it too much because it would just cause a larger headache than what it already does. Instead of really “thinking” about it, I just look at it as a terribly large, dark cloud that looms over my head somewhere and that will soon burst and create some severe problems.

The religious thing is a problem for me too because now I don’t have anything to govern me. I feel like I’m not standing on anything and I don’t know where I’m going. I’m wondering if I should look into some other group or if I should just be one of those people who say they believe in God and leave it at that. I don’t know if I’m okay with that though because there’s all the hell/judgement stuff still in the back of my head. Not that I didn’t think I was headed there anyway, it’s just…I don’t know. There’s nothing there.

Oh and the childhood memories. Those keep popping up and I haven’t the slightest idea why. The growing up thing bothers me too. I don’t like the demands, or shall we call them requests, that are made of me because supposedly I’m old enough now. Like I was taught at some school that this is how one acts at the age of twenty-one. Sure. I must have slept through the whole thing. Sorry. I guess you wasted your money sending me there. Seriously though, I’m having this thing, this withdrawal thing I want to call it, where I’m trying as much as I can to stay away from anything that I know will bring me further into the grown-up world. I found myself thinking about Peter Pan and Neverland a while back, wishing it was actually real. I mean sure, I dislike some attitudes toward me that I think are more suitable for someone who is under the age of twelve, but the rest of it I think is unreasonable. I think people forget that I’m still very young and that,concerning how to relate to people and be socially polite, I really don’t have much of a clue. I didn’t grow up going to parties and accommodating guests. I never called my grandparents or any other relatives just to say hi. I wasn’t taught how to engage in small talk or to check up on people. I was just left to play and then called in when dinner was ready. I know to say thank you when I receive gifts. I know to greet people when I meet them. I think that is sufficient. It turns out however, that I have a bad habit, that I’m impolite or rude or inconsiderate or something like that.

I’m tired now. I wore myself out trying to live for other people which, by the way, was never noticed and completely taken for granted. Now I’m ignoring them and trying, very hard because of how unnerving it is, to do I what I want for a change because, one, I’m older now so I can get away with some things that I couldn’t before, and two, all of what other people want is too freaking much and it’s seriously heavy and weighs me down. I don’t know if it’s working so far because though I feel a bit better, I’m still not very pleased. Those around me aren’t either. But what the hell can I do? Add to this that I’m depressed…I just said that… Can you see the problem here? And as much as I would like to, I can’t “snap out of it” as my sister so graciously suggested. Like I wouldn’t have done that a long time ago if I actually could.


It’s tiring,
This life I live.
It’s tiring,
Trying to figure it out while going through it.
It’s tiring,
Trying to be happy when I feel nothing like it.
It’s tiring,
Trying to develop and maintain good posture.
It’s tiring,
Trying to eat well, to exercise, to feel beautiful.
It’s tiring,
Trying to stay awake when all I want to do is sleep,
To work when I want to rest,
To stand when my body feels all wrong.
It’s tiring,
Having to be strong, when I feel utterly weak.

And this is what they say
Living is.

It’s Not A Big Deal

I’m trying to tell myself it’s not a big deal. That I said something I probably shouldn’t have. That I made a mistake. That I’m not in an ideal situation. That I wasted time.

It’s not a big deal that I may have hurt someone’s feelings. It’s not a big deal because my feelings get hurt too.

It’s not a big deal that no one listens to me. I just don’t have one of those voices, or those personalities. The ones people listen to. The ones that people pay attention to. It’s not a big deal.

I don’t have to be a straight A student this semester. My mother died. I missed a month. Everyone knows. They understand. I don’t need to pressure myself. It’s not a big deal.

It’s not a big deal that I haven’t stopped eating meat yet. I’m not fully independent. I don’t have the means to do that. It’s not going to kill me. I’m going to die anyway. It’s not a big deal. Please stop stressing over it.

The same with exercise. It’s not a big deal. Forget that I spent money and bought weights and a workout mat that was too short. It’s not a big deal. It’s also not a big deal that I asked for a skipping rope and got one and can’t remember the last time I used it. It’s not a big deal. It’s okay that I don’t have the dashboard flat stomach like that woman from the romance novel I read in high school. The one I think will make me just perfect. It’s not a big deal. I’m lazy anyway, so I should stop thinking about it unless I’m going to do something about it. Seriously.

I should also stop chastising myself when I realise I’m going to be late for something. The world isn’t going to end. Everyone’s not going to hate me. I like being on time, but all I have to do is get up a little earlier so I can avoid being late in case things happen. Again, I’m lazy, so I should stop feeling bad about it unless I’m going to start doing something different.

It’s not a big deal that I’ll have to miss out on some things because they’re too expensive. It’s okay. Not the first or last time. I should be okay with the things I have experienced. I should try to be okay.

It’s okay girl. It’s not a big deal. Don’t worry about it. It’s not a big deal.

My Tale, of Two Cities

I have lived
Called a city.

I now live
In a real one.

And for the first time
Since I have lived,

I wish the real one
Would go away.

It is cold
In temperature
And expression,

Always asking
How I am
But never really caring.

My life is now
In this city,

But my life
In the city before
Still lingers
In front of my eyes,

And so I live
With a chronic case
Of nostalgia

Carried by waves
Of why
Did I come here?

And wanting
For dreams

I lie down
And think
I should accept my lot.


I learn from you
When you tell me to speak
And then refuse to listen
To what I say.

I learn from you
When you tell me I’m grown
And then treat me
Like I just learned to walk.

I learn from you
When you tell me I’m smart
And then say I behave
Like an idiot.

I learn from you
When you tell me to be strong
And then say I should
Just keep my head down
And be humble.

I learn from you
When you talk to me,
When you walk away,
When you don’t say anything.

I learn from you
And wonder what you
Are trying to teach me.