Dotted Line

partners in crime
partners through time
we just made it real, official
and still
you didn't even flinch
when you asked me
to share your world
we have a new horizon
safe and secure
and yet
I still can't trust
this feeling will last
even though we signed with our hearts
on the dotted line
I want to believe
with all that I am
and all that we have
that this will be truth
solid and sure.

Overweight? *Revision for Wonder Woman Week

Looking in the mirror I can't quite see the girl I used to be.
I'm broken and battered,
bruised and shattered.
I can't see, I can't feel, I can't love.
I need to love. I need to change.
My world is change, change is change and I'm changing too.

My life, my lifestyle is different, I am different.
Embrace me, degrade me.
No need to, I can handle it on my own, I do handle it on my own.
I wear clothes I pick up off the floor.
I wear my heart on my dirty sleeve and can't seem to remember when I
used to be clean.
I can't get clean.

I've never felt that way, the way everyone should fee or maybe I'm deluded
secluded or obtrusive.
Angular folds of me peel off my skin and I just let those layers fall.
Let the layers slip off of who I am, who I was and who I will never be.
This is me, I am not you, I am not a carbon copy of you.

I hate, I dissipate and disappear.
Working, breathing, breaking in front of you,
pleading to find you not fearing what is real, what is right
What could be normal if you just understood
Understand. I want to be seen as this, what's right in front of you.
Your idea of me will never be which should have never been.

But I won't give up.
I won't give up on you.
Not until you can look me in the eye and see me.
See me for this.

D.E. Purvis

And I'm lonely in this lonesome apartment
The sounds of the city wash over me
outside of my window
I am alone upstairs, perched on this dusty sill
away from this world, I'm hiding still.

I am broken over your lost spirit
I am sad we never made it through
I have never reached out,
reached out for you
You never seemed to care
or you didn't let it bother
And now I don't want to miss you
I'm not even sure if I can.

I'm scared of what this means
I'm aging rapidly
This promise of the man
born out of misery
taking you away, to that higher place
taking you from our family
far away from me.

I never heard your stories
I never seemed to stop.
I didn't ever know what to say
or how to even relate
But now looking back I don't think it would matter
that I didn't know what to say.
What would matter most
was that I was there.

If I had to do it over, I wish that I had tried
so that in this moment, I could even cry
but instead I worry for my mother
my sister and my grandmama
but of course thinking of you too.
I'm thinking over why
we didn't even try
and why I didn't think I needed you.

Untitled #3

Is this my path?
Am I leading the way on my own terms?
Will I ever fully stand on my own two feet?
Questions, Questions and more
Will they ever end?

My dad says "You need a nine to five."
My mom says "You need insurance."
But the only assurance I receive
is if you do this "we only have to worry about you that much more"
My father says "Your health is bad."
My mother says "It's just a job."

Yes mom I need the money
Yes dad I shouldn't take less pay
But all I want is to be paid what I'm worth
And daddy, I'm worth more than this.

401K

The sweet, sweet lights dim
over my part of the city
and my thoughts and I
are finally alone again
I wander far off course
out of the room
away from my very existence
I can't find myself in this city
everywhere I look are money hungry
powerful men and women in suits and ties
buttoned up to the very
top of their forgetful minds
forgetting they could ever
sing, write and dance
for fear they would be different
I am standing alone next to my darkened street lamp
I have wavered
in my path to self-sufficiency
I have taken off my suit
taken off my tie
and now stand boldly naked
in front of the rest of the working class stiffs
as they move towards their box
and I move towards my destiny.

A poem for Mercury

I am a soldier
Off to face the unknown
There are demons in my heart
And unrest in my soul.
So I’m shipping out tomorrow
Because I can’t stand this heartache anymore

I’m fighting for my freedom
And I’m fighting for yours too
I need you to know that I loved you
But I knew it wasn’t enough
I know I was never enough
Like he was to you.

So I’m fighting for your freedom
And I’m fighting for mine too
I want you to be happy
I hope he makes you happy
Like I never could
Maybe it wasn’t meant to be
Maybe you couldn’t tell me
I think of all that could be different
For you and for me
I think of how this life could change
I think of what our life could be

Then yesterday I saw you
And couldn’t tell you what I thought
I wanted to tell you I was leaving
But couldn’t look into your eyes
To see all that was there
Those eyes that are the deepest brown
With just a hint of green.

I’m fighting for my life tomorrow
I’m fighting for yours too.
I’m not sure if I’ll be back again.
But I think you always knew.
That I’m fighting for your freedom
Like I couldn’t fight for you.

OUT

What's the time? Well it's gotta be close to midnight...
Rent


I’m going out tonight
With a painted face and a neon wig
I’m going to paint the town tonight
With my rhinestones and my glitter
It’s a good night to go out
It’s a good night for a blow out
I’m getting rid of all my demons
I’m saying goodbye to authority
I’m throwing caution to the wind
With a big “fuck you very much”
And two fingers in the air
I’m going to break out tonight
From these chains that bind me
So I can breathe again
With my friends at my side
There’s no way I’m not turning this town upside down
I’m fierce and I’m fabulous
I’m the lady in blue
And I’m not taking no for an answer
Tonight it’s on and there’s no way this can be good
Because what this city doesn’t need
Is another group of badass
Broken women tearing it up
Yelling and swearing it up
This city won’t know where we came from
Or when we’re leaving
But by the end of the night
And into the next morning
Our town Manhattan
Won’t ever be the same

Untitled #2

And the color of my skin has everything to do with who I am
I can walk anywhere and not be bothered
I am safe because I am white
When did the world become so color oriented?
When did the world decide which color
Get the better jobs, the better pay and the better hours
Who decided that one color can control others?
That the shade of my skin would make me better than, who?
I am no better than the person sitting next to me on the train
On the bus, who I’m walking next to in the street
We can’t choose our shade
But we can choose our hate, our discriminating nature, our controlling dominant power
The people who we are friends with, the people who we help, who we speak to
Only you can change the difference between black and white
Yellow, orange, blue and gold
Purple, green and gray
You can’t ever look at someone and know who they are
You can’t see in color or in mute tones
You see who you are by looking, really looking
At the person you are speaking to, communicating with and loving
You can choose if you get along with this person or not
You can choose if you worry about how things look to the rest of the world
You choose.
Choose life, choose balance and beauty
Over corruption and pride
Stand next to that person and let them know you are no better than they
We are equals, we are real
We are all the same color on the inside.

Goodbye, Midtown

It’s so cold in midtown today
I know the trains are running late
They run so late
When all you need is to be on time
And baby believe me
I am always running late

I’m not sure I’ll make it in today
These covers are so warm
I don’t think I even want to try today
Because honestly, what’s the point?

I can hear that cold November wind
And I don’t ever want to move
Don’t make me leave this place today
I just can’t make it in

It’s a good day for coffee
It’s a good day for a cry
It’s a good day for dreaming about how I’m going to get by
Summer is gone and I’m still here
Winter is coming on strong
And I wonder if I’ll ever move on

But for now I’ll bury my head
My heart and my mind
Because those trains aren’t ever running on time.

Cold Little Boxes

Essay Written 11/7/07


This is not a kind city. Its coldness will swallow you whole and its vastness will overwhelm even the most tireless traveler. There is so much to see, so much to do it’s almost too much. So much so that most days you don’t even want to try.

Most days I just want to curl up in a ball and forget I ever decided to move here. Why did I move here? I didn’t realize that bohemia was already dead when I took the leap. I didn’t understand how hard it is to meet people here, to find time to create here, to live a life here. Most days I’m too exhausted from working a full day to create, learn and grow. I find myself running out of time.

Fall is officially gone. The days are getting shorter, the nights colder. Already I have cabin fever and already I feel claustrophobic. I don’t think I can stand lying idle between four walls everyday and moving from box to box another day for fear of getting attacked by snow, by sleet and by fear.

Sometimes I dream about different choices. I wish instead I had moved to the country where things are slow and easy going. But I am young and I am free and I thought this was where I needed to be. I don’t know what I need but I do have idea of what I want for my life. And looking around at all of this void, I know this is not it. I am stifled, thoughtless and bored. I am tired all the time from the mundane quality of my life.

And I see this same struggle within my friends. We look at each other and see so much of what we want but have no idea of how to get there. We don’t know how to find the people we lost after college. We thought it would be different.

I thought it would all be different.

Untitled #1

I lied today
I don’t feel that way
I might not know where I’m headed
But I know I’ll be okay.
I think I will anyway.
I woke, got up but never let up
I spoke up, smoked up but never stood up
I could never just leave it all alone
I’m over and done, overwhelmed and under too
By myself I am no one
And no one knows.
No one ever knows.

Holding Me Together

I would like you to say you’re sorry
I would like you to say I know
I would like you to say something more than everything’s okay.
I’m sick of hearing the same old things
And being placated at every turn
Please tell me what you think of me
And what you want from this.

Sometimes I think we speak two different languages
One that is emotion and one that is logic
One that is borderline irrational
And one that can be cold as ice.
I want you to say all the things I need to hear
Like I love you and I want to hold you always dear.
And I would
I would let you hold me until the end of time.

This poem is unfinished as I am unfinished
Because at the end of the day there are no words left to say
Not one that will let you know how I feel
And what I need done.
But would you understand if I had only that one?
I could only hope you would
And that you wouldn’t break me the way you could.

Please hold me together
Please don’t let me go
Please don’t say it’s over
Please, please, please
Say it isn’t so.

The Great Divide

You say the future is scary
You say your future is bleak
I say take me as I stand in front of you
Take me forever, take me today
It doesn’t have to be the wrong decision
For you or for me
If it all overwhelms you
We’ll save it for another day

But sometime I would like to know
When it’s time to talk
When it will be okay
When you won’t get scared or turn to run away
Because what I want for our future
Is forever and a day

One day I hope to let you know
How I truly feel
How I want to spend my life letting you know
You’re my world, my life, my love
Let’s talk about a day we won’t have to worry
About money, time or fear
A day when we won’t think about anything but each other
A day when we can stop forgetting, stop fighting
About what we want, what we need
and who we want to be
On that day after forever
That forever after the day
When you will finally tell me how you really feel
And I’ll hear all you have to say.

Denial Global

So pleased to inform you that your applications been accepted
starting from the time you get this letter
your life will be one never-ending hope you're feeling better
-Dresden Dolls





Dear (Employer),

I will not be returning to (insert employer) after the Christmas Holidays. For a number of reasons but mainly I could not handle another year, much less another month, in an environment filled with double standards. For instance, we are paid nothing compared to the responsibility we are given. We are asked to follow up with producers, call stations, handle monitored and RADAR, work on posts as well as handle any problem that will come up during the course of the day. And
why are we balancing much more than one person can handle under imaginary deadlines that only get pushed back if you see fit . Why should we should we do anything when we are only berated for the things we do wrong? We are not appreciated
for the work we do and that is evident in the pay we are given. Obviously you pay us what you think we are worth because I know receptionist who are paid more.

I understand that all employees must pay their dues at the beginning of their careers and work towards getting a raise. However, the raises that are given within this institution are just as degrading as our salary. Not to mention it's a joke that you expect us to live off of 8.50 an hour after taxes!

Also what are the rewards after working here for one year? Free pizza a few months out of the year? One free movie for someone's birthday who isn't even within our department? Monthly Cake? These are rewards you give to children not adults who are handling a bulk of your business. I understand that in any company the salesmen and clients are the most important people because they bring in the money, money your affidavits team never sees. But what of the people who are
following up with the stations making sure that they are airing so we can keep those same clients happy?

I also found my department supervisor to be the most cold, rude and unbearable person I have every worked for. I could not stand being treated like a child much longer. We are watched like hawks and have our days counted by her and yet she turns back around and takes an unlimited amount of days for holidays, vacations, summer half day Fridays and whenever she sees fit. It is unfair to the rest of the staff who must account for every minute we are not in the office.

I have been writing this letter for quite sometime and have wanted to quit for that long as well. But I have held on because I did need the money. Now while I am resting at home I see I could not return to an unhealthy environment where I am overworked and under appreciated.

Thank you for your time,
(insert disgruntled employee name)

An Inconvenient Commute

Each morning we New York Citorians (yes I did make up my own word because I'm from New York City and I can do what I want) come together to make the morning commute. It's slow, uncomfortable and obnoxious. Most morning’s people are cranky and rude, pushing up against one another, yelling profanities and trying to avoid the homeless men that are still sleeping in those much coveted seats. Every work week I watch people forget common decency and resort to their primal instincts. The instincts that were found before large fast moving silver bullets containing mass amounts of people were ever invented.

If you have ever ridden the MTA at 8 o'clock in the morning you know those people to look out for. These people that slow down the already slow commute include:

1. The person who is standing by the door and will not budge. No matter how hard you try to push by them they are making a point of holding fast and meshing their bodies to the side of the railing.
2. The person who thinks they are so quick that once the doors open they can slide in and get a seat before anyone else has had a chance to get off.
3. The group of people who have decided that they have found a place to stand that is comfortable and no matter how many times those doors open and close they will not move. They are much like person number one except they band together and make sure that the people getting off and on will have to move around them and their unfunny friends.
4. The boyfriend and girlfriend who stand together next to the doors groping each other, giggling and other general public display's off abomination. They will most likely hit you with their hands, legs or bags more than a few times before you get off the train or find a better spot to stand far away from them.
5. The smelly person who is mostly found during the summer months. This is the person that stands right above you, when you are lucky enough to get a seat, and obviously hasn't showered or ever heard the word deodorant. This is the person that raises their arms but somehow can't see, feel or smell the massive sweat stains with aroma on their shirts.
6. The parents, I'm pretty sure these are just about the worse commuters out there. They do not teach their children public transportation etiquette instead they let them stand anywhere they want, they hold them and look at you like you should be ashamed you didn't give their grimy little runt your seat. They make loud cooing noises, run over your things with their monstrous strollers and let their children climb all over you. Sometimes it's just unbelievable!
7. The massive group of young teenagers. They are loud, obnoxious and find everything funny. There's not much more than you can say about them except their parents did NOT teach them proper commuting techniques (see above).


So when you find yourself in line waiting to get on and you see all of these people in one car, which believe me has been know to happen before, just remember everyone has experienced this at one time or another and we all roll our eyes, plug in our earphones and crank the music as loud as it will go. Because honestly what else can you do when you need to get to work?

Challenged

I began one of the most interesting years of my life, the year I graduated from college. I had no money, no friends that were graduating and staying in Fredonia was no longer an option. There are just some places you aren't meant to live longer than five years.

So I found myself doing what most twenty something college graduates do, I moved home. Living with your parents after having four, or in my case five, years of freedom is one of the hardest things I have ever done. Stumbling back into the rules and regulations of a Southern Baptist household is not an easy transition. But without this experience I don't think I would have learned self-control, will power, patience and responsibility.

During this transition year as I like to call it, I also learned how to hold down a "real" job. Although this job was slightly different than a regular nine to five and didn't even use my degree. I decided that the only way I would make it through this year was to start saving for my future. I became a one to one paraprofessional for special needs kindergartners. I worked with two beautiful but thoroughly helpless children. My two boys could always find trouble even though they had two completely different disabilities. One was so smart but let his behavioral issues and a hate for school control him. The other would never have any options because he could only find his voice through a digital box. However, he was a quick little thing both in agility and the concepts he could pick up. Everyday was a challenge that I didn't feel ready to face but I know without it I wouldn't have found the strength of character that this year allowed me.

These are not your average children. It takes a different set of skills to build their trust and to love them through the kicks, screams and biting. It’s devastating to realize that an innocent child can be looked at as different just because of what they were born with. They live their lives in a world that doesn't accept them. They will have to find their place or be put away for the safety of themselves and others. For some there is no other option than these and for others this is the only care they will receive in their lifetime that matters. Everyday we live with the reality that we could be the only people who will ever treat them as human beings and not as a disease.

What got me through some of the harder times was the most wonderful group of women. Each day they put aside their own issues to deal with someone else's child. They look these kids in the eye and see not their disability but the person they are and have the potential to become. It goes without saying that these women are not in it for the money. One woman that I still speak to had to work two other jobs on the side just to put her own child through college. Another had to live with her mother because she was divorced and left with two children to raise alone. Another never received a college education and yet another's culture hindered her life decisions. These women found a job that wasn't desired, that most won't even take, and yet stood tall with a grace that I have yet to see in my adult life. These are the women that should be given honors and medals for their daily battles. These are the women who are the backbone of our society. They teach your children, they wash your clothes, and they clean your houses. These women make a living so you can have a better life. They sacrifice themselves on a daily basis and for this they deserve a lot more than they are given.

Through this fight the men and women in our public schools are making sure the politics and daily hardships take a backseat to making sure the children are receiving the best education possible. It all doesn't happen overnight. I got to see some of these children grow by leaps and bounds in one school year. One child went from not being able to speak one word to us not being able to get him to stop. Another little girl blossomed once her parents decided that medication might be more help than harm and another thrived by just being able to be given that personal time he so desperately wanted. These are the moments that make the struggle worthwhile. Watching our kids interact with other children, playing on the playground during normal recess hours and learning in the classroom.

I battled the parents, the disabilities and the system right along with these women. I am proud to be a part of this community. These women will continue to fight long after I am gone and will change more children's lives in the process. I am a different person because of the unconditional love these women brought to our classroom each day. I will take with me their spirit, their unwavering energy and general positive outlook on life.

I truly learned everything I needed to know in special needs kindergarten.

Apartment #3

numb and bleeding
health receding
patched and broken
words not spoken, here
where I used to live
where my memories are all held dear
but they are all wrong
I am all wrong
no choices left to make
I hear my heart break
and I am broken too

picking up after myself
I want no one to see
no one to know
where my body lies
starving and alone

detaching from my detachment
I grow weary from remorse
there's no place for me here
because space can't be made
I am too big or too small
but mainly I'm not here at all
no
I have never been here at all

not knowing what I want
I ask for it all
but no one can give when no one knows
the no one asking for nothing at all
pushed back into my place
no room to be made
I resign myself, design myself
around this desperate feeling of how it all started
and where it all went wrong

Mommy and Me

Quiet, still and timid I step into the sun
“Waste not, want not” my mother cries from behind the shaded glass
The place where she hides herself and I can not see her for what she truly is
I play and dance and dream in the tree that whispers her name
While she watches from that window, that window I can’t see.

My mother used to laugh, my mother used to sigh
But now she just smiles; smiles and smiles and smiles
“Only a face a mother could love” she says to me
My face? My face is the only one you love?
I know she looks in my face and sees my tears and knows that she was me, she is me.
As I look in hers and see everything I’m scared to be, everything I’m scared I’ll turn out to be.
Now I lay me, down to sleep
Don’t let me be my mother when I wake.

Sad, lonely and alone
I am an only child and I spend most of my days sad, lonely and alone.
I want my mother to play with me but still she sits, she sits and stares off into space
I wonder what she’s thinking
“Eat all of your vegetables or you won’t get any dessert”
I don’t want dessert, I want my mommy back
The one who used to spin me around, who used to brush my hair, who used to tell me I was enough.

Now I stand before her in my worn out, washed out body
And she doesn’t see me, she stares right through me
“Of course I love you” she calms me
But I know, "of course" is a phrase used by people who are indifferent
I am indifferent just as my mother is indifferent
I wish we could be indifferent together.

We pull away and break apart
And I am lonelier than I was before
I am still lonely
I want my mommy; I want it to be my mommy and me
And I miss her and her dancing, swirling laughter
I just miss her and I can’t tell her because she wouldn't hear me even if I did.

The Difference Between Wants and Needs

I am young and afraid. I worry constantly about the direction my life should go. About regrets I have not yet made and do not want to have. About a life of not growing of not learning of not changing into the person you were born to become. I worry about taking the wrong path and making the wrong choices. I worry about being stupid and unhealthy and nothing of what my parents expected me to be.

One of the biggest fears of youth is not being liked, being excluded and deluded and forgotten. I am no exception. I want to make my mark on the world; I want to write something beautiful and poignant that it will be hard for anyone to forget in years to come. I want to be remembered but shouldn’t I remember myself first? I sit down to write but find myself blocked; this writer’s block that plagues me is something I can’t push through. I find myself unaware of how to say the words that I think, that I feel, that I know will be different because I am different. I have my own voice with which to speak, I have my own hands with which to write, I have my own life with which to live. And here I am speaking, writing, living or at least trying to do all these things. But does it matter? I worry about being a conformist, an alarmist, a stagnant creature who doesn’t know where she is much less where she’s going. Where am I going?

For so long I have been unhappy. I have shuffled along in my life carrying my baggage. This is the baggage of my past, the baggage of all my transgressions and mistakes. Of the things people I barely know have said to me and of the things I have said to the people I barely know. I carry what my parents have done to me of what I have done to myself and what I haven’t done at all. And I am tired. My bags are heavy and I am so tired. I need to find a mirror I can look in without hating myself. And I must forgive, forgive myself my trespasses and forgive those that have trespassed against me. Forgive, forgive, and forgive. These words reverberate in my head like an echo I started years before. Forgive. What if I can’t? What if I don’t know how? I think of everything I have been through in this short life span and I wonder could it have been different, could I have been different? Could I have loved more? Laughed more? Will I learn from my mistakes and start to love and laugh and laugh and love more now?

I want so much for this life of mine, I know I am meant for so much more than this thoughtless, mindless work that takes away my creativity, which takes away my soul which breaks my heart slowly. My spirit lays next to me on a daily basis asleep and cold on the desk next to my multi-phone line, my desktop computer, my calendars and fax machine numbers. My pens, pencils, scissors and folders. I don’t want that spirit to die and yet I know if I spend one more minute forgetting who I am one day I will wake up and it will have happened. I find myself waking up now in a cold sweat grasping, gasping for air. I am disoriented and can’t breath or feel or love because those good things that I am I can not find. I wake up in a panic because each day a little more detail is lost. A little more of me is gone and it’s just out of my reach. I am losing the things that I want to love about me, they are leaving without notice. I want those things back because I deserve them. I need those things back because they are all I have.

And I cry. I cry in the bathroom for what I have already lost in one year. I cry in my cubical and tear at my corporate personality that has bled through who I truly am. I cry at home for the girl who needs the money to pay her bills, I cry on the phone for the girl who I was before I walked into this place. And I cry for my friends, the women who I have met along the way, who are losing a piece of themselves, the peace in themselves everyday, just as I have lost mine.

And I cry, cry and cry. And I cry for them and I cry for me. I stand right next to who I was, who I am and who I want to be and all I can do is cry.

Home: Where my Heart Must Be.

I know that the night must end
And that the sun will rise
I know that the clouds must clear
And that the sun will shine
-Endless Night from The Lion King



The beauty of home.
The beauty of finding your way back to a place you remember to a place you can’t forget.
I want to find that place, a place I can call my own.
I want to be safe and warm and free to be me.
I want to let go, take down my hair, let loose my tongue and take off that glare.
Where my eyes are silent, still and sure.
I will know where I am because I am there in the very place I need to be.

Standing on un-solid ground I wait, I wait for this to feel right.
No, I have not found it yet; I have not found my peace.
At this moment I belong to no one and everyone, I live in the world and the world lives in me.
I have no place to rest my weary mind and no sanctuary from my everyday dilemmas.
When will it be my hour, my minute, my moment?
Looking into the distance I can’t yet see who I’m meant to be.
I can’t yet understand where I’m supposed to go.
I don’t quite feel steady, ready and whole.

But I will and my time will come.
The time when I will know what I was born for.
What I have saved and salvaged for.
Where I need will finally find my piece, no, my peace of mind.

Overweight? I'm Too Fat For This Family.

Poem written 10/12/07



Looking in the mirror I can't quite see the girl I used to be.
I'm broken and battered,
alone and shattered.
I can't see, I can't feel, I can't love.
I need to love. I need to change.
My world is change, change is changing and I'm changing too.
I wear clothes I pick up off the floor.
I wear my heart on my dirty sleeve and can't seem to remember when I used to be clean.
I can't get clean.
My life, my lifestyle is different, I am different.
Embrace me, degrade me.
Stop.
No need to, I can handle it on my own, I do handle it on my own.
Don't you?
I've never felt that way, the way everyone should fee or maybe I'm deluded
secluded, obtrusive.
Angular folds of me peel off my skin and I just let those layers fall.
Let the layers slip off of who I am, who I was and who I will never be.
This is me, I am not you, I am not a carbon copy of you.
LOVE ME NOW.
I hate, I dissipate, I disappear.
No love for the dismembered, gargantuan people that live among us
giants with golden hearts but no new starts
Working, breathing, breaking in front of you, pleading to find yourself with us and not fear what is real, what is right there
reach out and you can touch me.
What could be normal if you just understood
Understood I want to be seen as this, what's right in front of you.
This is me, that is not
That will never be which should have never been.
And I won't give up.
Not until you can look me in the eye and seem me for what I am, who I am.
See me for this, take a look around
I am everywhere.

I QUIT

I QUIT! I did it, I really did it. And there’s that sinking feeling comes into my gut and I’m frightened. What have I done? I don’t have benefits, I don’t have an income, I don’t have anything. I am desperate for the comfort blanket of money. Of green and gushy money, it gives me that sense of security, that false sense of security.

Never mind that I don’t save. Never mind that I don’t worry about it when I have it, when I’m working at a job I hate for that paycheck. I need it. I can’t live without it. I’m living in one of the most expensive cities in the world and I just quit my job. On purpose. I quit my job without having the safety of another one to fall back on. I can’t stand this office. I can’t stand any office. I can’t stand myself in an office. What have I done? Have I made a mistake? Am I going to regret this when my two weeks are up and I don’t have anything to do but look for another job?

I don’t want to be placed in yet another cube, another box of destruction and isolation. I want contact, real human contact. I want to be valued and appreciated and respected. I need to be respected. I am not respected. I don’t even respect myself. I wake up, I shower; sometimes. I brush my teeth, I eat breakfast, and I can’t look at myself. I don’t recognize myself. I am not myself and I know it’s time for a change. But will this world let me change? Will I let myself change? Do I even know how?

I QUIT! And I’m nervous. I’m nervous no other job will want me. That all I’m cut out is for mind numbing, mundane, boring office work. Don’t push me back in that box teacher! I need to get out, I need to be free. Free from racism, bigotry and pride. I need to be away from salesmen and businessmen and faking moneymakers. I need to be away from the me I become when I’m around this loss. This loss of heart, loss of mind, loss of kindness and loss of time. These people who pretend they are happy because of all the things they own but they can’t look in the mirror either. They can’t see what they’ve become because they wouldn’t know what to do with themselves.

I see the beginning of who I could become. I trust that I am making the wrong decision even though my body and my mind tell me otherwise. I believe that I am going to work through it, that this is the only step I was ever made to take on this Monday, October Twenty-Nine.

I QUIT! And I’m free.

Regretfully, Yours

My regrets.

Having a two night stand with someone I didn't even like. Never saying goodbye. Never keeping in touch or reaching out. Being a cutter. Being a self-hating depricator. Not saying what I mean, saying too much and saying nothing at all.

They say a life lived without regrets is a life well lived. I say a life without regrets is no life lived at all. If you do not act or if you do; you could cause regret within yourself. Any choice you make has the potential to be the wrong one. Would you even know you were alive without having to make decisions and choices? Would you even know you had anything to regret?

I regret hating others. My judgements, my grudges. Cutting the people out of my life with no reasons given. Not being held responsible, not holding myself responsible. Gluttony. Selfishness. Doubting and fear. Not being in the moment. Each and every one of my vices and addictions.

All of these help me to know I'm alive. That I am living in this place right here and now. I don't think of my regrets in the negative sense of the word, I think of these things that I have done. Of all the feelings I have felt and thoughts I have thought. And I am happy for these memories, these conscious and subconscious choices. Although some hold a certain sadness I can not cry. Because all of these things have made me who I am right now, I am who I choose to be.

Free. Peaceful. Quiet. Creative. Contemplative. Brass. My laughter is loud, my whole body cries when I am upset. I am an intelligent, willful, in control revolution.

These words make me who I am, my choices make me who I am, my thoughts make me who I am and finally I can see myself for who I truly am. One woman, standing up for what she believes in.

One woman who is following her journey.