Fasten Your Seated Past

The way I see it, my head makes my body feel like it’s a cloth being wrung out submerged in a body of water

How the tables have turned, my lungs can soak up the air when my mind says no

I’m sitting, staring into my own eyes through the outside looking in, just a boy who had something stripped, wiped from him

He had no idea that he would face drowning in a different context, fell into a pool but was saved, now it’s become difficult when it’s not fluid that’s keeping him under, its his demons

Older now, writing words splashed across paper like an artist using nature as their canvas, incomprehensible to the human capacity, coherent only from the creator’s paint brush

Spilling unto a sea of colours, swimming against the grain, he’s alive today, hit with the brisk cold, winter’s embrace has fooled him once, twice even thrice.

He knows that he isn’t what was, but what is and can be. Can’t walk into the past with a closed door, so he pushes the old ones open looking for a way to weave around the crops and take them by the roots.

It hurts, it hurts but it’s over and done with.

Writings From The Cafe. Part 4. B.T.

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Depressing Haunts.

I feel so alone, even though I have people around me sometimes. I just want to push everyone away. My old problems are starting to hit me like a brick again. Not that they stopped haunting me, they were just hovering.

I have a job.. part time, I longboard almost every other day, I try to read once in a while but sometimes my lack of attention span gets to me, I want interaction with my friends, but life is slowly draining me again.

I want to talk. I want to be there for people, but sometimes I just can’t even be there for myself, you know? I have hopes. I have dreams…. but they’re becoming more broken and I haven’t chipped away at them as much as I could have.. should have… the should haves are getting to me.

I could be worse… my problems aren’t as bad as some people’s, but that doesn’t make me any less valid, does it? People tell me I am valid, but I don’t feel that way sometimes.

I’m losing myself more and more everyday. I wish I could write more often, but I keep running out of words. It’s hard to transfer all of my feelings into words. This entire time for years, I thought I was writing what I was feeling, and sometimes I was and do write about how I feel.. but it’s usually how I think I feel. I didn’t realize that until therapy.

I hate that my therapist is away until near the end of August.. I just started getting back into therapy because I stopped going. I thought I could handle being alone… being without help… but I have a difficult time.

Body Ghost

I know this area, sort of and something about it, everything reminds me of those I’ve never foot step here with before

It’s as though they’re haunting me like a spirit with unfinished business, only these are still alive as far as I’m aware

Taunted by the very taunt itself of memories I’ve never shared with certain ghosts of my past inwhich I created myself

Version of my past self live here, born here to someone as a stranger to myself and yet my heart feels something dark sitting in the seat of my legs

Wandering Self

Song I listened to while writing this poem:

Maps & Habits ( 3LAU Mashup )

I’d only be lying if I said everything’s been fixed                                                                                                                   best it’s going to ever be, but how does one that                                                                                                                   things won’t slightly change for better or worst

I’d only be truthful if I said I’ve been feeling                                                                                                                       sorry for myself because atleast I feel visible, if                                                                                                                 almost everyone I know has disentegrated like                                                                                                                     the salt in my wounds

I’d only be lying if I said I didn’t have anything                                                                                                                           I have the sweat on my back and only the present                                                                                                                 and future to make things right

I’d only be truthful if I said I mostly look back and                                                                                                               compare myself with my old self and wonder where                                                                                                           exactly I had lost most, if not all, of my sanity, when                                                                                                               my smallest troubles turned into bigger problems

Dying to get a taste of life.

sunset

Earlier I was out longboarding, just as usual, nothing different. Just lit a cigarette, had my music playing from my phone and pushed my feet off the ground repeatedly to gain speed.

What surrounded me was the same as it always is around this time of the year. Trees blossoming with pretty flowers, colours blended intogether, mosquitos quenching blood and the fresh sent of fall. I’ve seen the same things aorund me for the past 25 years of my life.

But something felt different, everything looked the same, but they felt different. Was it that I was longboarding a bit later than I usually do, or the the sunset fell later than it normally does, or were the wheels of my longboard slowing down?

Do you ever go somewhere you’ve been numerous times before, nothing physically has changed, but you feel change, like some sort of small aspect has changed your outloud on what you see?

I believe that’s what happened, I started appreciating what I saw in that moment. I saw tiny little aspects, I disected the different colours of the sunset, noticed where the mosquitos and other bugs laid to rest and how settle it made me feel in that moment.

It was as though, my worries, my past didn’t haunt me, but settled me and I felt it. I didn’t feel like dying was the answer, but living was.

Unwatered haunts

Sometimes you haunt me like the wildflowers that shed in the name of myself forgetting to water them

Sometimes your name rings in my ear like the sound of a moving train right above my head

Sometimes your laugh is found among those who are troubled just like you and I

Sometimes your face plants itself on top of every reflection I see as I travel to places you’ve never gone with me

Sometimes your words are the one thing that holds me back from becoming a better version of myself

So here I am, lost but still wandering
Troubled but able to find a way without you

You do not have the right to attempt to destroy who I am because who I was is someone you can’ stand to see breathing

You no longer have any control over who I am just because what I did hurt you

I have tried and tried and tried to be there for you and show you that I was sorry instead of just telling you empty promises

I’m alive and it isn’t because of you

Day 22 – 30 Day Transgender Challenge

Song that I am listening to while writing this post:

Snowblind Featuring Tasha Baxter by Au5

Do you feel being trans holds you back from your career choice?

As of current, I don’t really know what my career choice would be. Growing up, I could see myself working with children, how? I’m not sure. So on that note, I had went to College to become an Early Childhood Educator and I didn’t really know if that was what I saw in my head as to what I wanted to do.

When I worked with children, near the end of my time working at the last childcare centre I had worked at, I was starting to question my gender again. I had already been known to the children my Miss (even though some kids said Mrs because I used to do that as well growing up out of habit – Insert my last name here -. I had already been known as ” she ” and other female pronouns. I didn’t know how to ask if I could start being called Jasper by my bosses and co-workers and Mr. – Insert my last name here -.

As of right now, it is something that I worry about having to bring up in future jobs and employment in general because for one, I haven’t legally changed my name or gender marker and my voice is still feminineish.

It only holds me back a little bit, sometimes I just play off being female still and deal with it.