no qualms

sickly feeling in my chest from too many loud voices,
my rage is banked though, my stress is low.

can’t find a place for myself in this social world.
i find it hard to connect, instead i make friends with judgment.

and its not who i want to become, so i am made of avoidance.

 

perhaps i am selfish and intolerant because i no longer have to rely on others to avoid falling apart.
i am whole though still wandering aimlessly.
i try not to worry because it uses up energy i could otherwise use.
 

i want everything, that giant house on the banks of Lake Delton,
because for some reason a grand estate appeals to me.
but it’s just material things…
yet i am paralyzed by becoming discontent.

 

how do we avoid discontent? appreciate fractions of things, and i try to, and i stay afloat.
i am terrified though.
what if i make myself a life that i grow bored with, intolerant of?
because i’m an unfortunate idealist, and youth is its own pair of rose-colored glasses.

 

i love with such gusto, that hasn’t changed.
putting myself in a place where i learn more moderate actions,
compromise, communication.
i am not lost and tangled here, and it is refreshing in the vast sea of all the rest.

his eyes are blue, i rhapsodize about them quite a bit here.
maybe it’s because mine are so dull.
people dress them up pretty with words but they’re still muddy and uncomplicated.
emotions are always banked there, maybe unshed tears.

perhaps i am just whimsical,
but it is better than being uninspired.

 

idealism is dangerous, but so is aloof apathy.

our fingers are interlocked, falling into our roles.
it is no secret that i need a firm hand; he is a navigator and i am much better at carrying ideas along instead of sparking them.

i find pleasure in quiet;
the warm company of laundry, single-minded tasks,
causes an empty brain to become active, maybe mindfulness,
but i am really not that zen.

 

it was on the boat that i discovered his capabilities to enamor me;
a tour meant for young adults, i suppose, but we are soulfully much older,
and we sat on the top in blue, flimsy chairs;
the scenery breath-taking, even more so in the fallen darkness,
and i stared ahead at the trees but his hand grasped my arm;
"look up, at the stars"
and my heart heaved a heavy breath of gratitude.

 

i am too afraid to confront the demons of the now-distant months of winter-spring,
but the present is tranquil and the future, sunny,

 

so i refuse to have any qualms.

 

 

what are these words?
soul purge.

unapologetic.