Liar, Liar, Pants on Fire

I would lie to all of my four readers that I have been busy.

I would go on to lie that I would get better and timely.

I would continue by saying I had school and work and life and pets and everything.

And I wouldn't stop there.

Would, wouldn't

Shouldn't, should

Could

Do

On a more honest note, I haven't been feeling worthy enough to reserve more internet space. I feel bad wasting megabytes talking about things that for a long time, I thought no one cared about.

Readers.. It's hard to keep up a routine when the most feedback the creator receives is IP addresses that lead to pornography and weight loss schemes. Unless those addresses that link to here some convoluted way, I am human.

I haven't been writing as much as I should be, as much as I would be. But I wish to instill calmness, it's only to better myself. I am tired of romanticizing a reality I pretend exists because I am not a fantasy writer. 

I have been attending different poetry readings. One was at Gypsy Cafe where I let myself freestyle. Might I add that Gypsy has by far the most diverse group of people I have seen. The way they bend words has me laughing one second, crying the next, until falling back into my seat as if I have been struck by a hammer of meaning. Others have been at my friend's house while he nostalgically flips through his pages from a Providence Poetry book. I listen to him rap his lines, which are similes coated in pop culture to exemplify a satirical smirk. And he has ruined me, his words, my poetry slam, and the girls from writing council that saw me. I feel like a broke record reiterating that I have depression but when the clouds hang low enough to laugh as my car tickles their belly, I cry because I'm not ticklish. I cry because I could be better, would be.

I haven't given up. If I have, I wouldn't have updated my Facebook personal profile. I wouldn't have sat in an airport lounge to update this. I would have hung my head and hid with my cat.

Instead, I am here to give some notes. Scars of my own to prevent cuts of your own.

• Don't give up.
  No matter how far you have strayed off your path, the trail continues whether that means finding a new direction or simply catching up to the road once lost.
  During my disappearance, I went skiing with said rapper (He might not appreciate that so don't tell) on terrain I had no business being on. Somewhere in two feet of powder and one ski, I looked past the trees and remembered, the run is right next to me. I can always go back to the run. I can always keep going whether in the forgotten realm of snow tops or grooves.
• Extract yourself.
  Sometimes taking a look at something from a different perspective can build your own. Two minds are better than one, so what about a million other eyes?
  Before I came here, far too recently for comfort, I was confronted with the fact that my work doesn't make sense. Cockily, I told them I knew what I was doing. Then can the fact of I am better at describing and my earlier pieces were a prefect shade of dark. Now I have the experience to support the sentiments in a way that will flatter me. Stop looking at yourself in your favorite dress and ask your husband if he would ask for your number at the bar.
• Relax.
  Passion is work but most importantly it's something that fuels your body so why over exert yourself to do something you "love'?
  I figured out I was running from pressure to be someone I wasn't. Someone I couldn't be, Someone I couldn't force feed to others. I was paranoid about the happiness of others that I realized my own discomfort would prevent everyone else's comfort. I ran to regain something I buried with my shallow breathing. I ran to find Anastasia. And that bitch was sitting at home laughing at me.
• Run Away.
  If you are as fed up as I was, stop.
  I began to role play. I bean to create alternate realities where I was no longer stuck. I left myself fall victim to imagination and false realities. I pretended I was a Marketing Intern, I was married with kids and dreadlocks, I was a savage and my counterpart killed tourists, I was Miley Cyrus and he was Michael Phelps, and my reality become clearer. I am Anastasia and wouldn't have it any other way.
• Be Confident.
  God Dammit.
  Good things come to those who believe they will. It's true, if you think a certain way, you will subconsciously act accordingly. Take steps that will leave imprints or else don't walk at all. This is the moments we have to treasure and make last. I'm still young and have no time to waste. Tomorrow is already wasted if today is spent contemplating the horror it might bring. Presumed disaster lures actual disaster. Don't fall into it's tease.

I will be better.