The Letter I Actually Sent

True love isn’t something that happens often.

For some, they may never find it. For others, it comes more than once in a lifetime. You’ll know you have it when you’re with someone and they don’t just make you happy, because plenty of people can come along and make you happy, but they make you the best possible version of yourself. They’ll bring you up on your bad days, celebrate with you on your better days, give you strength and hope and courage and newfound wisdom as you grow together.

They’re not just someone you’re compatible with and enjoy being around. If you’re one of the lucky ones who found this true love, hold on to it. Fight like hell for it every day. Don’t ever let it slip away. Because you’ll never be the same once it’s gone.

Resentment Part III.


You let yourself get so high,
Giving yourself a greater distance to fall.
And you did.

You yanked us down with you,
When it came crashing down and caught flames.

Falling so fast, so hard.
I’ll never let myself get that far.
I’ll never get that far.

I’ll play it safe.
But I’m afraid.
What if I lose my way?
What if I break?

Continue reading “Resentment Part III.”

Resentment Part I.

Resentment: A feeling of bitter indignation at having been treated unfairly.

I used to see myself standing there.
Long white dress, curled brown hair.
But now when I picture it,
The dread makes it hard to commit.

All eyes on us.
I stand in front of someone who loves me,
Saying those words that bond us together officially.

But “til death do us part” is no longer an option.
Instead, it’s a ghost that haunts me.

Continue reading “Resentment Part I.”


The weight on your chest, pushing down — harder and harder. All you want to do is be strong enough to lift it off. But instead, you feel weak.

Your lungs feel fragile, you’re gasping for air. And then the ringing begins. Floods your ears and bombards your senses. You feel weak.

Then comes the heat. Your body temperature is rising, quickly. You’re panting to try to slow your breath and cool your body and stop the ringing. You feel weak.

The pressure in your chest is tightening. The pain is spreading and squeezing. Your body starts to give out. You feel anger. You feel sorrow. You feel weak.

All of your senses are at maximum capacity. You can’t move, aside from the shaking. You can’t speak, aside from the crying and gasping. You can’t hear, aside from the ringing. You can’t feel, aside from the pain engulfing your chest.

You’re gasping.
You’re trembling.
You feel weak.

You’re suffocating.
You are weak.

House No Longer Feels Like Home

Watching the children’s faces light up as they walk through the house I grew up in and imagine it as their own. As they pick out who will have my bedroom. As they picture eating at my kitchen table that we’re leaving for them. As they ask where the bus stop is. As they gasp in admiration at the game room. As they smile at the trampoline in the yard. As they begin to feel home.


Desperation: A state of despair, typically one that results in rash or extreme behavior.

But if you recognize your own desperation, are you really in a state of despair?

What do you do when you’re battling for control over your own life?

I didn’t want to do it. I didn’t want to let you win.
You didn’t get to hurt me. You don’t get to break me.
You abandoned me and in return, I turned it off.
Pushed it all away. Feeling anything made me weak.

In my battle for control, I turned cold.
I burned bridges. Lost myself. Lost it all.

Feeling nothing is easier than facing the pain.
It’s what I did.
It’s what I do.
But the control still slipped through my grasp,
gliding slowly into oblivion as I watched it fall from my intertwined fingers.

Once the control is gone, all you can feel is the numbness that engulfs you like a blanket. It clings to you like a thick wool sweater on a warm day that you’re so eager to rip off but it’s stuck. Clinging to your damp skin as the sweat trickles down your back.

Continue reading “Desperation”

The Only Adrenaline I Can Feel

The fireworks erupt within me, puncturing my body and splintering my skin. It’s all too blinding for me to handle.

I can’t trap this inside me any longer. I need to escape it all.

Around me, it’s just a sea of darkness, littered by specks of people who could never understand all that I struggle for so long to keep buried.

The car door slams, quick as a gunshot, then it all unfolds. Hurricane flowing through my ears every time. Over and over, thinking one day this will end.

The speedometer climbs dangerously — up, up, up. With each sharp curve, a rush oozes through my veins like a wildfire that can’t be tamed.

I know it’s reckless, but I need this.

I need to know I can feel.

Tears I battle to contain can finally escape, stinging my burning, fiery eyes. Once the first little tear falls, the waterfall begins. Blurring my vision of the dangers in front of me.

The twinges of pain twisting deeper inside my body push me to finish what I’ve started. These thoughts consuming my already cloudy mind could make a mental person seem sane, but I know they’ll be gone once the car is in park.

When I reach my destination, my tears disappear with a few quick swipes. The smile I’ve learned to paint on so well returns. I cut the engine, and so does Hurricane.

The fireworks that allow me to feel finally subside. And I’m numb again.