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Another year to mark off.
A quarter century, now, but that’s only a short time to take it all in. Half my age ago, I couldn’t wait to be here.
She was right back then. That now is better than she was and better than I’d go through to get myself here.
I’d drag through my teenage years and come out the other side scraped and defeated. I’d claw my way into my twenties and scratch so many on my way. Those first years, clinging to any affection my way and being let down over again. Then, trying to skip ahead to the good parts and realizing I hadn’t written anything good to skip to yet. And starting over.
I’d burn those years if I hadn’t learned so much. Through heartbreak and ghosts in my wake. But I got where my younger self always hoped she’d be.
Home. Loved. And content.
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Girl with the empty cup~
Do you know you can stop pouring? You’ve run out and you’ll have nothing left when the sun comes up tomorrow.
“But their cups are empty!” You say. And you fill their cup.
“They wouldn’t ask if they didn’t need it!” You’ll think. And you’ll do it, whatever it is.
“I haven’t hit empty, just one more thing.” You’ll grit your teeth through. And you’ll hit empty.
And then it all comes crashing. Your body aches, you can’t sleep, and you haven’t cried in ages like this.
There are cracks in your cup now, could you hold water if you had any left? Could you hold any love without a watertight cup?
Mend it now. You’ll need to time to breathe again. Maybe to learn how to give yourself time at all.
One of these days you’ll be able to fill again. One of these days you won’t be an empty girl any longer. One day you’ll be filled up to the brim with your own love.
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i was so fucking sad when i was 14 and now when i fold my laundry or see a pool of moonlight on the floor of my bedroom i know that miracles exist. i see love in everything. love sees everything in me too
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Oh flower on the windowsill-
Teach me something of reaching to the light, always.
Teach me of the way you come back to life every season after the cold hides your brightness away.
Teach me something of the way you allow yourself to be cared for, even as it means pulling you from comfort to give your roots new soil.
Teach me of the green leaves you grow so perfectly, changing on and on forever.
Teach me the grace of each pink shade of the petals you’ve grown, despite the times water came too late and cloudy days outnumbered the bright ones.
Oh flower on the windowsill, from you I have so much to learn.
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Time isn’t running out.
The lines on your face haven’t even settled. Your neck has always hurt, this is nothing new. The hangover you have? That’s much better than when you drank more and barely felt it.
You can’t quite figure out what’s changed but it all has. You look back at the photos and there’s a youth that’s faded slightly. Isn’t it strange how your face has been changing and you barely noticed until all at once, something is different.
But you have so much time. Even if life was an hourglass, you still have so much sand that may trickle past slowly like what has before. It doesn’t go by so fast as you think.
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You are alive.
You wasted your earliest twenties on boys who would never love you. You may have wasted more if you hadn’t learned so much.
It’s almost 25 now, yeah? 10 years out from the worst of your life, 2 or 3 out from the many close seconds. It’s 3am now like it used to be back then through the pain or the fights that almost killed you.
But it’s different now. You’re alone. But you’re still buzzing off a wonderful night with people you love.
Your home is filled for a night, everyone sprawled out couch and air mattress. The best night you’ve ever had? That was maybe years ago too but this might be better, you think, hearing your best friend’s snores.
You may have wasted some time with boys who didn’t know what they missed, but your girls. They know the best and worst and they still bring wine when they come to hear more.
You haven’t wasted this time with them. You’re made from their love.
You’re alive.
#poetry#quotes#love#heartbreak#spilled ink#life#words#quote#time#growing up#new love#best friends#friends
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What are your twenties for but sleeping too little, drinking too much and never quite knowing the plan?
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7 hours and 2 minutes until my alarm goes off and I am awake, dreaming.
Dreaming of writing the fleeting feelings of late at night. How they writhe with despair, hope, and longing. How minutes feel like they’re stolen from time, though each still passes by.
Dreaming of old loves, hoping for new. Hoping for better. Remembering the warmth of loving so hard and worrying it will never come again. That there won’t be enough choices to choose right. Spreading out over the bed, large in that there are no limbs to tangle with, not anymore, not yet.
6 hours and 53 minutes and the pain has settled in. I don’t trust it, trust only my eyelids ready to fall. I remember then, when I felt this way even in daylight. How the mistakes cycled through always, but I didn’t know they were the lies of an exhausted mind. I didn’t know if I could push through them into the future.
It’s 6 hours and 37 minutes until my alarm goes off and I have so many regrets.
It’s 6 hours and 20 minutes until my alarm goes off. I will hope for a dream about flying. Or one where I have the love I’m missing now. Thinking of the weightless and arms around me and longing for extra warmth.
It’s 5 hours and 59 minutes until my alarm goes off and I am asleep, dreaming. I will not remember what of when I wake.
#poetry#quotes#love#heartbreak#spilled ink#life#words#quote#time#growing up#depression#new love#dreams
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Healing isn’t linear.
Butterflies might feel like a cloud of wasps for a while. Excitement feels a little too much like fear when you’ve gotten stung before.
You won’t ever be afraid if nothing changes and you can stay safe at home. You won’t get stung, not again. But isn’t a sting better than stagnation? Isn’t fear better than giving up hope?
You were okay before and you’ll always find that again. It may take a while. It will be different. But it will be okay, even as it may ache now and then.
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“Abundance” by Amy Schmidt, published in Rattle
January 20, 2019
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You still aren’t sure if you could ever do love right. If it would be worth the work and if it would be worth it forever.
All you know is that you’ve left pain in your wake this far. You didn’t love her. You didn’t love her the right way. He thought he was enough. You thought you could be enough for him. And he was enough, he just didn’t seem to think you were. And every one of them hurt, and you left behind hurt. You haven’t seen any of them in ages and probably won’t, don’t deserve to for the ones you miss.
And that’s terrifying to know that every time you really tried, all you found was regret and new faces you’d hide from in a crowd.
You aren’t sure if you could ever do love right. You sure have enough examples of doing it wrong. One of these days, the sun will come through, it has to, and you won’t question the face it hides in. One of theses days, someone will come along and you’ll know for sure.
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I need to remind myself this life isn’t a sprint. There’s no shortcut to everything I’ve ever wanted: contentment, love, and stability. I have so much time to find it all.
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