Thrive

I was eating with family

at an eccentric restaurant.

Twirling my pasta with a spoon because it makes me feel fancy.

And then a song comes on that reminds me of my poppi.

I stop eating because my gut reaction is

I’m not hungry because he is dead.

I start to play with my food

and no one has noticed that I am upset.

But then I think about how he would want me to be happy

and remember him as the poppi he was

I lost three grandparents in seven years,

and I know they would want me to thrive.

So I write this for them.

Anger

Anger is something that is foreign to me.

I rarely get angry

because I was taught by the world

that anger isn’t pretty.

When I get angry,

I can’t speak.

I can’t think.

I physically get uncomfortable

because I am not familiar with the emotion.

I want to run

but I can’t run from myself.

I want to scream

but I can’t speak because my voice is still.

Anger is something that has erupted within me now,

because I only have one living grandparent

because I am single

because some of my family doesn’t approve of what I do.

But I have been told by my therapist

that anger is just the surface

and underneath is sadness.

That is the only way I can rationalize

Anger.

Because sadness

is recognizable.

Pancakes

I woke up after the first night at your place.

It takes me a while to realize where I am.

I splash my face with water to wake up.

It’s funny I can never sleep well in a new place.

Something about the different noises or the lack of safety.

But I never feel unsafe in your arms

which is why I’m wide awake.

I see you struggling to

make pancakes.

Batter flying everywhere and a tornado of ingredients all over the countertop

I smile and know I am home.

Cocoon

Sometimes I call my bed a cocoon.

It’s where I feel safe.

I can pull the comforter over my eyes,

and ignore the world

because sometimes my mind pulls me

into the depth of darkness.

That I can not escape.

Like I’m trapped in a cocoon

but instead of morphing into a better version of myself,

I revert back to the darkness.

200 years

I am fortune enough to know my grandparents.

To know who raised my parents to be who they are

is eye-opening.

I grew up my whole childhood knowing my grandparents

and having all four of them alive until I was 20.

Knowing how my grandparents met

and hearing about my grandfather’s time in war

and hearing about my great grandmother.

I have 200 years of family history on my father’s side

because I am fortune.

Blisters.

It bubbles up like a blister.

Growing bigger and bigger

wanting you attention.

Taunting your mind

with pessimistic voices.

When the blister finally pops,

it hits the walls,

coating it in negativity.

But now you can finally heal

and move on.