V. I

I don't know how it happened
but the lady who worked at the donut shop and I had a 20 minute conversation
about how being in your 20's is the worst.
I sat on her makeshift bench near the heater, ate my donut, custard running out the sides
and listened
to everything she had to say
because it was almost as good as getting a real big hug.
Lately I've been escaping home and heading to work early, that's how sad I've been.
Holidays do this weird thing to me
Fill me up with a chill
It's sort of exciting and liberating mixed with this feeling of being utterly alone.
I'm starting to not understand traditions
or why we do the things we do on specific days were told to do them
Is it really what we want?
All that turkey, all that stress.
I was telling David that lately it's been hard for me to feel connected to other people anymore.
Sometimes I'll be sitting at a table and thinking what am I doing?
Sometimes I really wish I had a grandma, someone "older and wiser"
Or an imaginary friend
Or Guardian Angel, I'll take whatever.
David asked me if I want kids.
I said, "I want to be a single mother."
"It's the only thing I've been able to picture actually happening for years now."
"That's how I know it's not a phase."
He laughed.
But it's true.
I told him that I can't imagine finding someone who can love passionately as well as be a good parent.
For some reason, I haven't seen them come hand in hand.
I also can't imagine being happy with someone for more than 10 years
I know something happens somewhere in there where eventually I'm not cutting it for them anymore
But the thing is, I know that I need to have something to love for the rest of my life
Something that'll never leave and that I can call mine
And I'll love the shit out of it, I will.

V.

Earlier today
I thought about all of the times Amy would French braid my hair
on mornings when I was hungover and had to go to work.

I don’t know if it was the pressure against my scalp that made me feel better

Or the idea that if I were to vomit, no one would feel like theyd have to hold my hair back.

Cause no pressure. Or anything.

My mother always told me ever since I was 9 and having friendship issues at a catholic school every night. Crying on the faded floral couch with my bowl of too hot to eat progresso soup.

That was back when I liked to put ice cubes in the bowl and watch it do its magic.

Shed say, “you have friends for different things, em.”

"Sometimes, if youre really lucky, you have friends you can do everything with”

You were right Ma

Sometimes
I think about tattooing my entire body with quotes

that remind me to love. To stay sane. To feel. For the rest of my life.

Sometimes I think the tattoo that I have quoted on my underarm
put a curse on me to do the exact opposite of what it says

I wrote down personal things on this scrap piece of paper at my third job and im sort of anxious about not being able to find it.

Maybe his phone died.

Maybe im done for now.

Thanks for listening.

Truckin Along

Broke down on the bus to Alameda.
A lady offered me a cute apartment,
move in ready with a great price
and I almost said yes
because
for the first time so far,
someone was giving me a chance.
Even though leaving Oakland is something I just can't think about.
at all.
But sometimes when I feel like Oakland's giving me a hard time,
I take that 51a through the Webster Tube
and visit the other side
for a feeling as close to a hug as I can get.
I bought a brightly colored slime green wooden bench.
Because I'm going through some dumb crisis I'm sure you could classify easily.
But I sit on it when the sun finally hits my room in the evening
and to be honest,
it's sort of put my mind at ease.
I think my life can be pretty absurd
Sometimes I don't understand the aches and pains of it,
with little light at the end of the tunnel,
more like a flashlight.
Something battery operated.
to keep us going.
Just not sure, exactly.
If you asked me to elaborate, you'd soon realize
I can never elaborate.
I'm only good for feeling, I suppose.
A boyfriend once told me the same thing.
What society is projecting on me is shaking me up.
I know who I am and what I want,
but you always seem to be wanting to tell me I'm something else.
If my brain could speak,
it would probably say,
"We'll, I guess it's time to go to work."
When all I ever want to do
is listen to blues
and let it cradle me away.
Sometimes I wonder
if it is the only thing telling me the truth these days.

Country Girl

put me in a cottage and lock the door
ima tell you everything you won't get.
but
lets face it;
i might be a country girl

high fives and shit

you could call it, missing the point?
maybe?
small person syndrome?
    that shoulder sulking sickness

neal's tellin me it's all about perspective,
like all it took was a button
or a light switch.
a shower, or something
get some water on that face

you know, something like   "take a break,"
                        "breathe a little."
      "sit down."
whatever else people are used to saying
in these crushing times

pats on the back type stuff
                            high fives   and shit
     feel good moments for like,   a second.

i dont even believe anymore    all the nice things my poetry teacher said to me.
it's all just a burnt up pile of mess
and things aren't the same
so those words are in the air
tangled up in some telephone pole a mile away
for someone else to get down
and claim

so basically
id make an excellent ghost
a brilliant wall flower

the best fly on the wall you've ever had.

rant

call it pre-teen traumatic stress. thats what everyone else calls it these days. lumping everything together like were all in the same place. i tell them im 22, its been three years since ive seen that hyphenated double e. but its the 2 + 2 they see and nothing else.

baby emily.

child eyes for life;   fuck it. 

lets talk about how no one wants to fucking say anything anymore. its like words got too heavy or something. it scared everybody away, screaming “too much. too much.” couldn’t carry the weight of it, couldn’t handle it. everybody’s malfunctioning, things exploding, dripping fucking nothing. so i started having serious problems with wanting to shake people. wanting to ask what they’re made out of, cocking my head to the side because I’m really truly a curious motherfucker.

what’s inside you.

where are your fucking eyes.

ive been walking in heavy boots since i knew what sour grass was. been wanting to make conversation or something close to it since i can remember. befriending strangers on the streets. and their puppies. because things were being said and heard and we were going somewhere. but suddenly it got cool to put periods on everything and call it a day.