Out of the Present

I find myself often dreaming about the future.  Keeping it in the front of my mind.  Daydreaming; focusing all my attention.  Because the present isn’t something that I like to live in.  

I find myself often remembering the past.  I tell stories about the good times, how good it used to be.  Because it used to be so damn good.  And I took it so for granted.  

My heart carries all of the bad times.  My heart carries all of the hard times.  My heart dwells in its own pain, even when I try not to.  

7 Years

I was just reminded that I have had this blog for seven years.   Seven years of rants.  Seven years of poetry.  Seven years of channeling my depression online.  And I used to be good at it.  I remember when I was in college, sometimes I would get so creative I would post twice a week.  There were times when I’d try not to post every day.  Now I can barely post once a month.

And I’ve been thinking.  On and off for a while, I’ve been thinking.  What if I just closed it down?  Is seven years long enough?  For a long time this blog was my identity.  I put my heart and soul into.  Which is why my lack of creativity depresses me so much, I think.  But maybe it’s time to rip the bandaid off?  Is anyone even paying attention anymore?  Because I for sure have nothing to say anymore.

Last April I moved into a townhouse.  I thought moving here might give me the creative head space I need, but instead I feel like I might have even less creative space.  I’ve forgotten how to act on my ideas, because I still have those.  I have hundreds of photos on a memory card in a camera that I bought because I thought I was going to get back into photography.  Instead, they sit there unedited, when I used to love editing and sharing photos.

I spend a lot of time wondering who I even am anymore.  I start school next month, and I’m excited for it, but what happened to being a writer?  What happened to being a poet?  What happened to having big dreams?  Did I get lost somewhere along the way?  I want to try.  So badly, I want to try.  But giving it all up seems to much easier.

My decisions are pending.  But this could be coming close to a goodbye.

A year.

A year ago today I arrived in the city of Florence, AL, the city that I now call my home.  I got here with no job, no place to live, and no idea what I was doing.  And I still don’t really know what I’m doing.

I thought moving here would bring me better writing opportunities.  And I have gotten offers, but none that have followed through.  Sometimes it seems that I’ve been so caught up dreaming, that I’ve forgotten how to write anyway.

Since moving here, I’ve gotten my first apartment on my own.  I got my own car insurance.  I have a dog and a real relationship.  Every decision I make is mine alone.  I’m finally fully discovering adulthood.

Florence has shown me that community is like the tide.  It comes and it goes.  When you really need it, community is there for you.  But community disappears when you stop asking for it.

Florence is a place I have fallen in love with.  It’s unexpected, but so am I.  It’s the place where I fell in love.  And, for now, it’s my place.

I’m one year in.  I’ve made it.

Disappearing Act

You wake up and pulled me closer
I can feel your breath on my neck
I feel unsafe and exposed
But I’ll let you have this moment
If only there are many more to follow

Yet there are never more to follow
And I wonder how far I’ll go until I find one that sticks
I go through the motions fitfully
Convincing myself that I’m ready this time
But you can see it in my eyes
You whisper, “What’s wrong?”

And you recycle me
Because I have been used and am no longer useful
You didn’t quite find what you were looking for
And once emptied, I no longer go with your decor
Left out on the street without another word

So I move on
To drinks and dinner and low expectations
Worried that he’ll want what you wanted
Letting him have his moment as you had your moment
But where is my moment?

I want love like a wildfire
Because I’ve already gone up in flames
Breaking everything in my path
Burning bridges so I won’t be followed
But I want to be found anyway
Because I am a rare gem
Though they never look hard enough to see what their holding
Beautiful in the daylight
Unconventional, but I’ll try to go with anything
Wear me out
Pull me in as I push you away
Tell me the truth
Or don’t say anything at all

I want you to be so aware of my presence that you can’t even sleep when I’m by your side
I know I’ve never slept with you by mine
Always searching for my escape
Constantly running away
Why couldn’t you have just given me something to run to?

So you’ll wake up and pull me closer
Trying so hard to get closer
But you can’t have your moment
I am not your moment
I am the whole damn story
Or a lapse in time

So close your eyes
You’re dreaming
Pull me closer
But I was never here

Dreamers

This world is becoming filled with dreamers
We are told to dream big
Dream bold
Just dream
Don’t be afraid to dream

But dreaming is not enough
When you live in your dreams you forget to live your dreams
Look at what is right in front of you
Breathe in this moment
Live in the now

I hide behind who I used to be
So that no one can know who I am
I dwell in my brokenness
Forgetting that that’s not who I ever dreamed of being
Yet no one will ever break me if they’re afraid to get caught on one of my already broken pieces
Yet I’m not broken anymore
Yet I am whole
And my walls never me that way

I dream of adventure.
Travel.
Writing.
Falling in love.
Running away together.
I dream of staying at home on rainy days.
Watching movies on the couch.
Sipping cocoa by the fire.
Having a place to call my own.
A home I share.

Yet I refuse to make these dreams reality
Seeing them as only dreams
Not grasping what is right in front of me
Still afraid to take any chances on myself

Right in front of me is rain in Ireland
Filling notebooks with whispers of God’s adventurous voice
Writing as my heart overflows
Right in front of me is a mirror image of what imaginings could be
A matching job
Matching weakness
Matching spiritual compass
But matching does not take away distance
Different states of mind
States of home
States of comfort
Stumbling upon something that my heart yearns to know
Yet the proximity brings a wonderment
Is this chance worth taking?
A risk worth chasing?
Or is it still just a dream?
An immanence of new brokenness?
Where do these horizons lay?