This is not a poem, but I’ve been staring at the computer screen for thirty minutes now, and I’m just not feeling it. Looking back over what I’ve written for the last twelve days, I know some poems are decent and some are awful. But I’m proud for consistently writing. I’ll probably try to evaluate my experience at the end of the month and look for overarching themes and lessons.
I like writing about fairy tales, and the stars. Those are two themes that have popped up pretty regularly. And expectations versus reality, and how rarely they are similar. I realized a few years ago that I wear my heart on my sleeve, and am very bad at detecting sarcasm. Those two facts combined to make me hopelessly uncool, but that’s not such a bad thing. I’d rather walk through life with a perpetually broken heart than be completely unfeeling or come off as cruel.
In one of her poems, Sarah Kay says; “On a scale from one to over-trusting, I am pretty fucking naïve. But this world is made out of sugar: it can crumble so easily but don’t be afraid to stick your tongue out and taste it.”
So, I’m trying to embrace my too-earnest heart and my knack for awkward silences. There’s worse things to be, and worse lives to live. And feeling anything at all is proof that I’m here.