May 15, 2026

perfectionism kills

it kills creativity
it kills enthusiasm
it kills hope
and it kills souls

[if only my own words had any impact
on the chemicals in my brain that scream
‘that is true for everyone BUT you —
you are the one person for whom
perfectionism matters
MORE, it is
LIFE
OR
DEATH
and you MUST BE PERFECT
to survive…’]

April 26, 2026

corrections
corrections
corrections
that’s all my brain does
it leads me forward to the point of
red-pen markings on
drafts long done

i wish i could just let it all be

not see the typos in friends’ texts
or my own poetry
or anything really

when i understand the meaning
and the world is itself is a liminal space
we’re all just visiting
just trying to make it through the day
why does my mind turn into the ultimate grammar-nazi
when we all know [or knew] that the nazis
are always
the bad guys

i’d rather be a grammar anarchist
a grammar socialist
at least grammar neutralist

but no, my brain functions in rules
[though i suspect my spirit is made of chaos]
and i just want to scream at myself
“WHYYY???”

[but i think we’re probably at least mildly aware of the why—

it’s the
trauma]

August 20, 2025

as fall approaches
but isn’t quite here
not yet
not yet

the memories of late summers past
invades my mind
sans consent
[do flashbacks ever ask?]
and no matter how stable
and lovely
and mine
my life is today

i keep seeing

loss
upon loss
upon lost trust
upon that feeling of any control in life
fleeting though it may have been
stolen in an instant

and this current administration
certainly doesn’t help this
weird ptsd i’ve found myself in

everything seems to be
culminating in something
and i continue to avoid all emotions and memories
until absolutely
necessary

August 3, 2025

everything in my life
seems to be
on delayed reaction time —

processing traumatic events/
pain responses to any injury/
excitement and anxiety responses/
processing temperature changes in my body/
even my damn tarot cards seem
a little too far away from the reading
to the event they foretold
to be anything less than
delayed

[but, i suppose, that’s just how my body/soul
plays this little life game]

January 22, 2025

i’d love to be a
“yes and”
find the funnest stream
go with the flow
and see whatever happens
happening
kind of person

but raising myself from the time i was
approximately 11
gave me some sort of
perfectionistic
type-a-personality
care and careful
self-preservation
overly cautious
kind of vibe constantly fighting against my
natural chaotic state

and hey

maybe it’s the opposite

maybe my natural state is more type-a
and the immediacy of seeing how
life is fleeting
gave me the drive to try to
induce chaos and joy in my life

but whichever way the truth lies
the sentiment still stands:
i have one part of me in chaos
and one part of me trying for strict alignment
and the two parts are forever fighting
inside my mind/my heart/my body/my soul
and rather than tempering each to a
reasonable level, they simply
stop
all action in either direction
and so i am neither cautious nor chaotic
i am simply

stuck.

January 5, 2025

“meanwhile
back on the farm…”

why do singular lessons stand out to me
when whole years disappear
in my sieve of a memory?

i can barely remember the good times
and only moments of the bad
and probably just what i made monologues of memories
is what still comes back to me
even after i’ve long since let go of that story in my repertoire

[what would it be like to have the memory
i was born with, instead of the memory
i was traumatized to have?]

March 29, 2024

i can stare at pictures of me
and think
“what a baby”
while distincly remembering how adult i felt
at the time

now, i don’t know what i look like from the outside,
but inwardly,
i’m younger
than a baby —
a fetus maybe,
or not even yet imagined,
because i know so much less now
than i did
as a teen who grew up too fast.