There will always come a time
when the time runs out.
While the clock ticks down,
the years, the days, the seconds,
we play the game set out before us.
It truly matters not
whether you win or lose,
but rather how you played the game
because either way, it’s over.
The thing about love
is that it’s never free
and try as you may
you can’t force what cannot be.
The thing about hate
is it comes at a cost
and wasting all that energy
always leaves you lost.
The thing about love
is that whatever you pay
you’ll get more back from it
than hate will get you today.
There is inevitably the uncomfortable period in which my hair reaches a certain length and all of sudden, I look very familiar to a lot of people. Why this phenomenon happens, I do not know, maybe I just have a familiar face? Whatever the cause, after a while it gets a bit annoying when people start to say, “you look exactly like my friend, but you can’t be, because she lives in Michigan.” So, if one more person tells me I look like someone else, these are the responses they are going to get.
-Oh, you probably just recognize me from America’s Most Wanted. That sketch artist finally got my nose right, don’t you think?
-I look like your friend? Well that’s because I am! Remember you owe me $20?
-I look familiar? Hmmm…probably because I have been stalking you for a month. I was waiting to see how long before you realized.
-Well, I am actually her twin sister, but I have been institutionalized for a few years. She doesn’t like talking about me for some reason. I think it has to do with that paintball incident.
-Sssshhhh! I am actually undercover as a salesperson at this bookstore. We are infiltrating a ring of dirty book buyers who have been marketing 50 Shades of Grey as classic literature.
Sometimes the very thought of you
warms me in unusual ways.
Head to toe, I feel the heat
as it rushes to my cheeks.
And I quickly realize,
there is no way to contain
this absolute and horrid feeling
of anger, coursing through my veins.
A butterfly may flap it’s wings
from somewhere far away
and cause disruption elsewhere
at least this is what they say.
For every cause there must be
an effect that changes life
for one or maybe many
this can add or remove strife.
If everyone made it their cause
to affect another’s soul
perhaps the world might
be just a little more whole.
People like to point out that “dog” is “God” spelled backwards.
I would like to point out that “cat” is “tac” spelled backwards.
Think about that for a bit while I take a nap.
A mirage in the desert
is more trustworthy than you.
I would drink the sandy water
before believing you are true.
And my death by dehydration
would be more welcoming for sure,
than to spend another moment
with your disease for which there’s no cure.
Dear Younger Me,
I’d like to tell you that life gets better, but we both know how I hate to lie. The truth is life doesn’t get better, you do. Life sucks for everyone. It is all how you deal with it. Your gut told you that you weren’t supposed to make it, but you did. Your imagination told you the world should end, but it didn’t. You always thought the apocalypse would be an environment in which you would thrive. You never really understood people, and don’t worry you still don’t. You never really fit in with the crowds, but you like that. Try to deny it all that you want, but I know you. I am the only person from whom you cannot hide. But I know something that you do not. You can adapt.
There is nothing wrong with change as long as you remain true to yourself. You are not weak. You never have been, you just thought that you were. You can still be an individual and have people in your life. There is nothing wrong with not fitting in to a society that is full of shit. You can always live on the outskirts and dip a toe in when you feel like it. The more unique you are, the more the people who matter will appreciate you for it.
My advice to you is this: don’t wait for the apocalypse to start living. You can thrive just fine in this world as long as you stay true to who you are and what you believe. But, you never know when the dead will rise, so I would still keep the knife by the bedside.
-Older Me
When I look in the mirror
I see your face
and when I speak
I hear your voice.
The older I get
the more sure I am
that you’ve instilled
not only your morals
but your spirit as well
into my soul
and I shall carry
it with me, not
as a burden, but
to make me whole.
Autumn Siders 