She drowns in her dreams.

Damnit! Snap back. 
Bringing me there is the physical pain of my teeth clamping down on my tongue. 
Outside, I pretend I am ok with it all. 
But I continue to ask, "How do I find more strength?" 
I'll find it within myself to keep it all together. 
For them...
I'll pretend I am ok with it all. 
I'll act like there is nothing wrong. 
so I release with tears. 

Is it over yet? 
Can I open my eyes? 
I wanna know, is this as hard as it gets? 

But for now I will drown in my dreams. 

"if you've never lost your mind, then you've never followed your heart"

at sixes and sevens

It is our conversations that bring comfort throughout my inner being.

I thrive by engulfing my ears in the words seeping out of your lips and rolling off your tongue.

Unusual, but healing clarification presents itself.

Keep talking…

Generated using similar wires, normalcy is found.

Feeling singled out is no longer an issue.

Pausing.

Inside I feel connection and their exchange of words I can almost hear.

It becomes an investment of mutual awareness.

An awareness of fucked up.

You’re returning to that state, a recollection of events and situations arise and a familiar form of mental exhaustion takes over.

Cluttered minds – racing and relating.

It is apparent that the “power button” is no longer visible.

Incapable of shutting down, you’re found trapped inside a world where make believe and real life have no true definition.

The lines blurred.

I find myself begging inside, to take me with you.

Please take me…

It is simply complex.

The variations are unbearable and slowly denial seeps in.

Your confessed alibi to others means nothing, and your actions have meant everything.

For every day composure, physically draining yourself becomes a must rather than an option.

No one around you understands.

At least not the ones who need too.

Keeping up with fictitious mental activity is crippling, but you find you can manage.

Physically racing, leaves the thought process muted and with that ounce of relief comes visible knowledge of the damage – unfortunately you created.

Isolation becomes an appealing solution and relationships then deteriorate.

Intimidated by death, abandoned, and yet all is assured by the voices within.

The liquid cascades down your throat, burning flesh and you find it surprisingly tasteful.

Followed by pills, and decisions so appalling those containing the most forgiveness soon start to question.

Like a bomb detonating, failure sets in and the ticking of the clock pounds inside your skull.

You envision a life much quieter.

I retract from my own thoughts, allowing my tears to simmer.

Breaking down, my body aches for you – I am affected.

Forgive me?

Breathing deeply, it is apparent that your mental affliction and compacted lifestyle wasn’t enough to intimidate even death itself.

It was however, enough to cause chaos.  

Fucking up the lives of ones you care deeply about.

And still you promise.

There was no intention.

No intention of jeopardizing futures underdetermined.

You swear it was involuntary.

Negative memories burning deep, overriding positive possibilities.

It’s just enough to allow another painful breath and enough to be coherent in dealing with the aftermath of your destruction.

Debris of others affected are scattered and with it lies the explanations and solutions too damaged to comprehend.

You try to collect the remains, and easily find yourself defeated by thoughts, conversations…

Overstimulated by background noise and attempting to keep up with current subjects of “normal” life.

So you swallow and wait…

For you I am waiting…

Days go by – you may just make it.

Pills prescribed and directions to follow.

If only it were that simple.

You’re operating and they see the “normal” you.

I see the fucked up you.

It lies beneath the medication and yet if you think about it hard enough the process repeats.

This time the “power button” is visible, however, just barely out of reach. 

Past Experiences & Present Moments

Words come to me as I lay my head on my pillow. 
Her words I hear, whether spoke aloud or formed in my imagination. My heart aches for answers, as I have none for myself or for her. She is my motivation and the keeper of my tomorrow. Her dreams cause me to question.... 
Rest your head.
Breathe in. 
Pause. 
Think.
Breathe out... 
Repeat. 
Do I want to know my assumptions based on her thought process or her fears? 
I want to know. 
Need to know. 
As soon as I sort my past, her actions, and the memories burned into my skull, I will figure this out. 
It will save me.
But if not soon enough will it be in time to save her? 
What is the answer? 
Guilt? 
What causes a person to beat themselves up to a point that it causes mass destruction on the lives of others and what precautions could one take to shield a life they have so desperately  tried to avoid. 
Or... have they unknowingly created an assortment of past experiences merged with present moments? 

An Argument Within

hard life.
she created.
or was it selected for her?
was she directed down a path that would eventually spiral out of control?
spun by choice.
broken heart and moist eyes.
pointed fingers, 
you did this to yourself. 
self explained pity.
hard lines and aging where time has passed and emotions have paused.
where have i been? 
but love runs deep, 
deeper than lies, betrayal, and a broken family.
efforts were made and forgiveness erupted. 
smiles broke lose and time changed everything. 
slow healing. 
together. 
just as he would have wanted. 

present situations processing past encounters

We're fighting, I begin to lose focus of our present situation and very slowly I am swallowed up by my past encounters. I drift from his words, and the tears falling from my eyes - salty moist droplets trickle onto my freshly bitten nails, numbing my brain from the confusion. It's blurry but I found myself lying on my bedroom floor, my breath held tightly inside my chest, an effort to keep my cover. Hushed words are spit from the mouths of my father in attempt to keep us girls asleep, but it’s my mother’s sharply pained tone that widens my eyes, and holds me captive. Cigarette smoke rises slowly up the vents from our kitchen into my room, stinging my nostrils and making me nauseous. Desperately needing air, suddenly feeling overwhelmed clearly suffocated by their hate, and realizing I have never encountered two people who love each other to that degree. 

I thrust my ear deeper into the vent with a goal I must accomplish. I must establish which one is at fault. Who should I point my finger at? Who deserves my cold shoulder and who will I side with this go around? .........

…..."I am just so tired of it all Kelsi..." Snapping back I realize my focus had been derailed. The last half hour my thoughts have been lost in the past and its time I must face the present, come up with a solution and fix what we have before it’s lost. We play their game, and I am aware he is dying to know my thoughts as I stare at him blankly. Dying to know the words I scribble on the lines of this sheet of paper. Who is wrong? Who receives the blame this fight and bows their head with acceptance, as the other continues the verbal beating, both knowing it will resolve this tiring nightmare. 

My emotions boil slowly; I want to be friends as well as lovers. I can't bring myself to look at him. He is breathing slower and very deep. 

I ask myself what the hell even happened. Sitting here we are torn apart, beaten raw and consciously desiring each other’s embrace. I need him to apologize, want him to appreciate my efforts without reminder, and yet that is all he is seeking out as well….

Easier said than done. 

Observed. 

{ Blog Title }

This next post, is the story behind my Blog Title, where I came from, and the definition of my present being. 

I had the typical teenage disconnect from my parents. I was rebellious, careless and fourteen. I was reclusive because the yelling made my head pound and the alcohol burned my nose. Hateful, jealous, and solitary emotions pulsed through my veins. My childhood memories were clouded by my parents reckless, irresponsible behavior, and nothing was going to allow them to see the damage they were inflicting upon my sister and me. Who knew that all the pain they inflicted would be minimal compared to the pain I would feel to lose him. That single event would be a monumental turning point in my life - the catalyst to making me the person that I have become.

I woke to everyone rushing about the house, and my mom's daycare was closing sooner than usual. I noticed her eyes were bloodshot and tear stained; her hands were trembling and lost. She took my little sister into her seemingly lifeless arms and they fell apart together. I knew. I knew exactly what happened. No one had to tell me. I was spinning and all the things around me were becoming a blur. Taken by an act of nature. A life cut short. A brain aneurysm. He was alone when it ruptured, leaking blood into his brain. A subarachnoid hemorrhage they called it. My dad was dead, and there I was stiff, and for once, unemotional. They say I was in shock but I declare otherwise. We always had a simple understanding, my father and I. This was no exception. It wasn't easy-no loss of any kind is-but as the wind tickled my face that hot July afternoon, I smiled because once again he had taught me something: to embrace what has been handed to you, including your life.

So I began the next year a new person. That next softball season I put more sweat and effort into the game. I had a better attitude towards my teammates and with each hit I smacked that ball as if he could catch it. I painted more too. Even as a kid, I was his "little artist." Now, I picked up brushes and colored pencils every chance I could; he was my new found inspiration. I knew he would be proud of me. I began to appreciate my mother more and more each day despite her continuing problems with coping. I tried to look past her imperfections to find her redeeming qualities. It still hurt, but trying to find the good through the bad became my salvation. The simplest things took on new meaning, and even though I was still unsure about my dad's absence, the emptiness left room for another. God became my best friend. I began to let go of the resent and hurt that was a hallmark of my childhood. I learned to rely on my extended family and learned that no matter what, my family was my rock. Good and bad, they were there for me. And so here I am. The new me. The changed me. I'm not so naive about the world being a perfect place; I can see it now in a more clear perspective. For the day my dads eye's closed, was the day mine were opened.

I created this during a very complicated and difficult time in my life. I opened myself to a blank sheet of paper and allowed my emotions and feelings to spew out,  almost too effortlessly. They are now for you to read and interpret as you decide. I found comfort within my own mind.

Completely Empty, But Finally Content.

Like a picture trapped in a frame
I feel confined to this wall, called life

You see me, but yet I cannot speak
Fortified by those who have hung me here
I reflect and hold a story that no one will ever know

Held tight, with such preciseness
Transparent to all it seems but you
I long for the moment you become conscious of this

Take me down slow and embrace my features,
Outline the elaborate border of my existence

But of course you wont
The light tends to seize my color and terminates the beauty
Forced to restrain against a white blank barrier of society,
Where I have illustrated and projected the "perfect" image

With each step you take I become more apprehensive
I count the seconds, while you cross the room
Inches from me, you extend your hand
Almost as if the reflection is blinding

Unbearable imprison causes all emotions to detonate
Terrified I weep, feeling humiliated
For the first time I am recognized

Tears stream down, smearing everything they encounter
Simmering at the foundation of my penitentiary

Wanting desperately to escape,
Instead I scream inside

United as one, your flesh burns me
I somehow manage to disregard the reality

All at once the burden of being counterfeit emerges.
Exhaustion hitting full force

Effortless and nonchalantly, I detach myself
Collapsing into the anonymous unknown

Evaluating my duration as I descend
Colliding with the humanity of hell

Pieces strewn in chaos,
Assembling by magnetism into their place
My obligations are finalized

Concluding the complete emptiness, and finally feeling content
Free to linger aimlessly,
Until remains of life are swept away and a new picture is replaced
Only to be trapped in a frame, confined to the wall of life.