Tag Archives: new adult

Poems from My Day (9-27-16)

I am competitive.
Pushed way, way down,
Because it turns me nasty.
I remember playing Monopoly with my sister,
She would talk about her win for days.
But when I would win, and try to act like her,
Crow, tease, smile at your tears,
I’d feel guilty.
It became easier to lose,
So I didn’t become the monster,
That is my sister when she’s better than you.

I don’t know what to do here.
She says she’s leaving her husband,
This Thursday.
She’s going to stay with us in our spare room,
She’s bringing up her extra twin bed.
Not her two kids, only the baby.
I called my mom,
Mom, what’s normal here,
What do I do?
What do I expect?
She says 8.
It takes an average of 8 times before a woman will leave an abusive partner.
These problems I thought of as only for adults are happening to my friends now.

My mother has a really great rule,
It’s the –
No matter what,
You can call me and I’ll come rescue you –
I probably avoided a lot of dangerous situations,
Because I knew it would leave me having to call my mom,
Which isn’t nearly as cool
As having to dodge her.

I saw the way his mom is with him,
And I see the young mother his sister has become,
I see the lack of developed potential.
The struggle for income.
But, really,
They seem happy.
So who am I to judge?

Back home,
The farmers go to school,
Education is important. This is recognized.
You bring that to the farm,
New techniques, a view of the world, information.
But these people,
Don’t care.
Fisherman, Pacific Northwest, or small town,
I don’t know.
But it’s damn frustrating.
What? You don’t need to know how to buy a boat?
You don’t need to learn about coastal patterns,
It wouldn’t be helpful if you could read contracts,
Do basic math, speak what you mean?
I guess not,
All you have to know how to do,
In this community,
Is how to drink yourself to death.

I’ll never not be lonely.
I’m learning there’s different types of lonely.
You can see someone every day,
Talk to them once an hour,
Know they’ll care if you died,
And still feel lonely.
I’m scared of committing to something tangible,
Right now I can hope it’ll improve,
Once I find a person to understand me.

No one tells you how to have adult relationships with your siblings.
Do I call once a week,
Can I still offer advice?
Do we keep it shallow, cute pictures of puppies only,
Or talk about,
What you’re doing with your life?
We’re so far apart now, in distance as well as age.
And I don’t know these people with their brains fully formed.

Poems from My Day (10-13)

Before I start writing, I have to tell myself I can go back
And change the first line to make it better,
But first I just have to get it all out.

I re-read something I’d written and I sounded hollow.
This must come from working for my rent.
I sounded trite, and sounded like I was trying to be fancy, and stupid.
I sounded stupid. I always sound stupid.

My panic attacks are coming more often.
I’m always haunted by that phrase I read somewhere,
It said that many mental illnesses establish themselves in people’s early 20s.
I wrapped a bandage too tightly around my finger and felt claustrophobic.
I wanted to call an old boyfriend and tell him I don’t think I can do this anymore,
I’m breaking, I’m cracking, I need someone to talk to. But I didn’t. See? I’m still fine.
This one was minor and lasted less than ten minutes,
But I knew it was coming beforehand.
I felt trapped because I didn’t have enough room to walk and my finger bandage was too tight.
I didn’t have a panic attack on the plane.
I tried very hard.

I asked him what he wanted me to do with this.
Then I flexed both hands and held them over my collarbones.
“This, this, isn’t mine. It’s yours. It belongs to you,
This emotion,
Whatever it is.
What do you want me to do with this. What do I do with this?”

Will I always be covering up for my accent?
Will I ever have a home?
Will I ever fit in?
Will I ever not wish I was in the past?