In This New Season

There are days in my new season where I feel like I am grieving.

Days where I feel like I miss you. 

But then I’m told that I’m wrong,

That I miss the good parts, 

 

And not you.

 

But what if I did miss you.

 

What if I missed the season where you rubbed my arm when we laid in bed. 

What if I missed the season where the way you laughed at my dumb jokes was even funnier than the joke itself. 

And What if I missed the season where the way your looks just told me how much you loved me so much,

 

That now in this season, I don’t feel right looking at anyone else that way. 

 

But do I call that survivors guilt? 

 

But just because I think some days in this season, I miss you does not mean that I don’t remember why we are no longer.

 

I don’t miss the season where we spent endless days of only lying in bed.

I don’t miss the season where hours were spent with you crying over the limits you felt you had on your life. 

And I don’t miss the season where I begged you for the love back,

 

That I only seemed to be giving to you while still holding both of us together. 

 

In this season, 

That love has now been given to me, and only from myself. 

And how the liberation of self-love has led to an abundance of emotional freedom,

I still miss it.

 

But they may be right. 

 

Maybe I don’t miss you. 

Maybe I do miss the way I was held by another,

But Not just only in the sheets.

 

Also, in the heart. 

 

And I know that probably means I don’t miss you,

Because we got to a point where you only held me when you needed it,

 

To where now I can no longer allow anyone to hold me when I want it.

 

And Fuck.

          That feeling sucks. 

 

Nobody talks about the trauma of breakups.

Its glossed over by the liberation of self-love that leads to an abundance of emotional freedom, 

That leads to intimacy blocks. 

 

In this season I know how badly I yearn to fall in love. 

And yet so often I cry,

Because I think I ask too much of the partners I seek,

When all I search for the bare minimum.

So that’s what I get. 

And yet so often I cry, 

Wishing I had someone to just hold me the way I’ve learned to hold myself through all my relationships and even,

My Independence.

 

In this season,

I have come to the conclusion that I indeed have become

 

Hyper Independent, 

But have fallen in love with the “idea” of falling in love 

And

Considers themselves a hopeless romantic,

But,

Is too scared to actually try 

And,

W a l k Away

Anytime someone shows interest. 

 

My past seasons took away pieces of myself,

That it’s taken me multiple seasons to get to the one where I finally,

Feel like myself. I love myself. I know myself. 

 

And yet I still feel sad that I can’t share those perfect and imperfect parts of this season,

And not just fall in love with the idea of love. 

 

And so,

In this season,

I am simply stuck. 

The Art of Our Thoughts- My example

 The Art of Our Thoughts- My example.

                This is my example of free hand writing, or “word vomiting” if you may.

Every time I watch the sunset,

I feel like I mourn when it goes down.

The end of a day means another day spent,

In a life that often feels too short. 

I've tried getting better about letting my days fly by,

But it's so hard.

When the mundane routine repeats each day,

But yet we still never know when it's going to

END. 

But that makes sense right?

Because we don’t know how any of our lives will end,

If we were stuck in the moment of being alive. 

In our heads we repeat the words of the song and ask,

“If the world was ending, You’d come over right?”

But I am completely torn from this statement. 

I so desperately admire my independence, 

That the idea of having to have someone when the world ends,

Sounds needy, sounds harmful to what we’ve built. 

Because you’re at the point where you shouldn't 

Need Anyone. 

And yet you are T

O

R

N.

Because you know that's a sack of shit. 

We as humans are collectively beings who live for the presence of others. 

Their touch. 

Their voice.

Their smell. 

So forcing yourself into this mindset that you can take the ending world on your own,

Is entirely selfish to your wellbeing. 

XX-T