where are you?
This girl that
I miss her
I am angry
like a cool metastasis
wax your light spark
wane the sunset fire
love into it
she is there.
The cool depression of the snotty cry. It seeps into your bones; feels like a stain you will never remove.
This is the part often omitted. It is not pretty. It is not the pity party. It is the simple normalcy of life changed. Who would not be angry, sad, and depressed? Pretending and envisioning the forever sunshine mind is a fantasy.
And where fantasy is wonderful and important; when dark-reality is present; shaking its hand and saying, “yes, I know you are there. It is okay. You are not wrong.”
The funny paradox that to simply admit it; somehow makes the it a little lighter.
You know what I am angry about? I am tired. I am tired of the fight. So stop fighting I tell myself.
I am angry I am tired. I am angry at the expectation exploding. I am angry at my obsession to find “function”.
Life is life-ing hard right now.
I look at the above picture of myself and I pray into her. I do what I always have done which is fall hard into art. Art is the foreshadow, the trust, the okay girl hide behind me awhile.
Who says but me that I am not still that girl.
Nobody. I am scared. No, I do not have the same feeling that things are going to be okay. I don’t know.
What does that mean anyway? of course they will be okay. They are what they are.
Life is still the same beautiful life surrounded by incredible people.
Don’t count yourself out girl
We are all superhero(s). Forging life as it happens. Together. Humanity.
I won’t give up, so you don’t either. okay? agreed.
paint much love, always,
Connie Karleta Sales
a.k.a. This Crooked Little Flower
*feature image courtesy of Track 13 Gallery, Nampa, Idaho