My love affair with Prince runs long, hard and deep. His ability to stretch beyond the limits and create music that is absolutely unique and alive filled the crevices of my broken mind with hope, dreams, and possibility.
Please do not underestimate the fragile girl who has been broken. The grown woman climbs barbed wire fences unapologetic, her jagged and cut limbs battle cries that honor the scars. Bleeding profusely shrugging off the pain, she is awake and determined. The girl is immune to the swirling, incessant noise hovering overhead. Simply choosing to embrace the beautiful and worst kinds of misery. Nah, man she’s better than wasted breath.
As I sat across from my mother and really looked at her face and tiny frame, I saw her age, frailty and worry lines for the first time. Her life has not been easy. It has been fucking brutal. She has endured and cared for too many loved ones suffering from mental illness. Every decade of her life has been spent caring for a loved one, someone other than herself.
When life throws shit at you, and most assuredly it will, remember this. I see you. You are stronger than you think. You are kinder, graceful, brighter, smarter, funnier, richer (and not monetarily), and unique. On the days I forget and think manic depression will most definitely kill me, I dig deep. Who the hell knows where or when life’s reservoirs will dry up. I don’t, neither do you. Then,
If I show you the inside of my heart you might die of frostbite It’s black and frozen There are no cracks or crevices, no sunbeams of light Only the abyss and heaviness of the infinite Suffocated breath In this world, these times, these superficial plastic without purpose days I’d like a rewind I was born sad you see Born with sadness in my marrow Dripping from my old spirit
It is after all, just a life. No bigger, no better. I have breathed more shades, more pain, more joy, more crazy, more fear, more sadness than I thought possible to carry in this one body. Death, song and daydreaming are my respites; temporary escapes from this swirling madness. I inhale deeply, the rich, sweet smells of nature flooding my senses. Music coursing the veins like venom. I wait for
Young girl filled with big dreams it’s fine to carry on, all grown even when you cannot do it alone. There will be others just like you who’ve survived the awkward teenager years, pimples, bruises and broken hearts. They’ll care enough to remind you how perfectly precious you are. It’s okay to fall or fuck up; when you’re doing your best. Life will get harder than you can manage, but
I’m done with the trolls and their hollow, spewing hateful opinions. I am over the ambivalence. I’m done with people who say they don’t care about politics, only the value of their stocks, guns and the art of the deal. I’m done with friends and family who live under the crowded veil of ignorance. I’m done with the bullies, the posturing, the greased palms, the narcissists. We won’t recover from
When they zapped my brain, I did not recognize the nurse who had been there all along. I recalled my mother’s face, worry lines and all. Too familiar. I forget sometimes with all these cells coarsing through veins, tripping up emotions that things came easier once. Life was uncomplicated, and I took it for granted. It was the little moments I shrugged off, the nothing less than important. Vital lessons
I had the craziest dream. Sweet Gardenia blossoms grew immense enveloping firestorms and chaos, masquerading all traces of ash and burn. The intoxicating scent of sweet perfume permeated the clean air, creating nursery rows of safety bubble greenhouses. A young girl’s innocence remained pure and virtuous. Flowering freedom rained dewdrops of kindness. There were no guns, no mass graves, no starvation, no rape, no death. No dead children. No hate.