June 11, 2023

i don’t know if i was born
with the patience gene fully turned on
or not,
but it has developed into something
i value greatly
in myself

however
because i don’t think of it as
a core marker/
a makeup of hj/
something that’s been with me
since that first day,
i often approach it as a skill —
something that needs practice/
cultivation/
that i can’t just rely upon —
and it often surprises me
when others thank me for my patience
when i’ve been feeling
so
at the end of my rope

i wish i could conceive of a me
who was always always always
patient without strain

February 13, 2023

i wish i had written more as a child
about what it felt like to be
those ages that i was–
it all felt so solid
inevitable
unchangeable
at the time

but now it slips my mind
i try to hold the grains of sand
as tightly as i can
and i have no specificity
just generic hazy memory
like things
vibes
of times
but i want the solid
the thought processes
the emotions (good and bad and in-between)
i want to remember
me

but instead i get this vague reaching
for who i used to be
and who i might
have grown
into

but none of this feels as solid
as writing does
now

so maybe that’s why i write
every day
even if it feels silly
or poorly crafted
or i don’t know what i’ll ever do with it
i need to find a way to look back
and identify myself
from years away

because sometimes i can’t even identify myself today

December 27, 2022

i know the morning
is here for me
to delve into my
psychology
and think through things
as they may or may not be

but right now it feels
more like a chore
more like a bore
score none and no more
the act of writing
of poetizing
less than appetizing
and i can’t help but feel
like a
fraud

~~~

one more poem
one more verse
simply to make me feel
like i didn’t just waste
an entire block of my morn
writing stupid rhyming poetry
for nothing
for naught
for no one but me

(that’s the only person
actually
for whom this
poetry)

~~~

and writing
as me
as my own self
is so odd
because i’ve spent so much of my life
not knowing
(or straight up hiding)
who i truly was
that i’m uncertain
i’d even know
for sure
now

December 12, 2022

i miss the person i used to be
i hate the person i used to be
i ache for the life i used to lead
i’m scared of going back to that life i once lead
the flashbacks offer heart-stopping anxiety
the flashbacks offer comfort and consistency
why can’t i ever figure out
what i want
for me?

April 13, 2022

did the work
did the thing
should i feel accomplished?

here’s the rub:
i know it could have gone better
(i know it could have gone worse)
but
it has become part of me
part of my mornings
(alongside my coffee)

and yeah, i guess i’ve learned a little
about myself
my words
my process(es)
my struggle-busses
(though i still feel so far away from having any of those
actually/totally ‘figured out’)

but does it have to mean anything?
does there have to be a large lesson learned
do our lives ever truly have
a beginning/middle/end
(except
birth/
the entirety of our lives/
death)
?

so,
i tell myself
from myself
to myself,
stop trying to make a neat story
where life just is
(that’s the fun thing about life:
it doesn’t get tied in a nice bow
at the end of every chapter;
it seeps
and bleeds
into every part of you;
your childhood
didn’t just cut off when you turned teen,
your teen-self didn’t stop teen-ing
when you entered college,
and with every passing year
you grow
but you can’t just let go
of who you once were,
you carry those stories
those strengths and faults
those likes and dislikes
those selves
with you
always,
they are part of what helped you get here;
you can’t have leaves without the branches,
and you can’t have branches without the trunk,
and you certainly can’t have a trunk without the roots
(and, if we’re comparing ourselves to trees now,
we might as well commit
and talk about how,
underneath,
supporting the roots themselves,
are mycelial networks
helping with nutrients
and
connecting trees to each other
and
living symbiotically,
so community
is the lesson learned there:
not even trees
stand solely alone)
)

so
i suppose
what i/this poem
are saying
is
this experiment might continue on for another year
or another five
or stop abruptly
just before another year mark
or i might not poem tomorrow

the point
is that i did it
i proved to myself
that i could do it
(though, with my stubbornness, i didn’t have too much doubt)
and i’ve written
(at least) one poem
every
single
day
for a year
and posted them
for the internet to see

and that’s all that matters
(right now, at least)

March 17, 2022

my sense of self
has never grown
past the age of the trauma

and while i’ve continued to wade through
life
and experiences
past eleven years old,
the photographic evidence proves nothing.
as that isn’t me.
can’t be.

maybe that’s why it felt so good
to change my appearance
so drastically;

the old ‘look’ was simply a shadow
of who i imagined i was,
a poorly made copy
adding weight
and height
and unnecessary curves
and worry in the heart and mind

but maybe this me
recreated like a phoenix from the ashes
of who i thought i’d be
can be the one who finally
stands in front of the small
blonde
little [girl]
in a frilly dress
and skinned knees,
and they can look this
non-binary adult
with rainbow hair
and gender-euphoria pants
and at last say
with confidence
and ownership
and love
“that’s me!”

January 21, 2022

what’s it like
to know what you want
day to day?
week to week?
year to year?
life to life?
[i wonder
and ponder
my own life through)

or

what’s it like
to see so few choices
that the choice seems
obvious
to you?

decision paralysis
is a subject
i’ve written abut before
(and thought/think about
damn near daily)
and yet
the subject
never seems
‘done’
to me.

(but maybe
it’s a combination
of regular decision paralysis
and the big choices i’m stuck on
that bleed into the littler ones:
my indecision
about my own career
(minus the big reasons i’ve chosen acting,
which is also a way to feed the paralysis;
acting has in it
the opportunity
to be
every career
with
every character),
but within that big choice
i get stuck on
what i want to wear
day to day
or what music
i’d like
to listen to…
but/because there are other things
i know
i like
and want:
i love all animals,
and rainbow is my favorite color,
and kindness i hold above all,
and coffee is the best drink (besides water),
i’m always in the mood for
bagels, indian food, or ice cream,
and i know i need balance in my day-to-day choices:
too much of socialization
will lead to needing a lot of alone time to re-charge,
and similarly,
too much solitary time on my own
and i begin to fall apart)

so, what is the conclusion,
or even the thesis,
of this poem?

is it simply that i can continue to be freaked out
by decisions
and the paralyses they induce,
but i should also admit
the duality
of the human spirit
and that i know what i want
far more than my paralysis shows?

or is it simply
to make a strong choice
and stick with it
(the lessons learned in improv class
so long ago)?

January 9, 2022

to delve back into
a former
self
i suppose i should use
and utilize
what i’m most afraid
of:
music being my strongest sense memory

i realize
that half the time
it is simply a chord or sustained note
that reminds me of a certain time
or place
or thought
or memory
but i also know certain songs
that hold those memories captive
like iron bubbles
i can see through
but they’re blurry
and i can’t seem to penetrate
unless i go fully inside
the song

so
i think i should
but i also think
i should do it
meditatively
with parameters
to hold the memories
and songs
in high esteem
treat them with reverence
and not abuse this power i’ve been granted
(nor rely on it too much
because i’m making new memories every day)

and what are the chances
that a song i listened to
a ton
in 2007/2008/2009
would show up through a randomizer in a little green app
[the visual memories aren’t yet here,
but boy is the emotional kerfuffle
strong
with this song…]

(what a ride that was)

November 8, 2021

there are so many facets of myself
that i wish were truly true
i want to be the tragic ending,
the too good for this world
the died much too young,
and i want to be the puck
the trickster
the bringer of chaos and of all unknowns,
and i want to live long long long,
and i want to be arson
and i want to be fairy
and i want to be cryptid
and i want to be house spouse
and i want to be parent
and i want to be cool aunt/uncle
and i want to be chestless
and i want to float between and above and around and absent and outside of…

but if i’m to believe Rain, what we do is truly part of us,
so does that extend to the wants as well?