the last house

white and red wooden house with fence
Photo by Scott Webb on
Wrote this: smoking my blunt.

this weekend stirred up many emotions for me.
Bittersweet ones.

sad emotions because I felt like I missed out.
safe emotions because I was in his arms
Happy emotions
my best friend and I danced the Saturday night away
confused emotions
angry emotions
determined emotions

my energy… boy did I have to focus that shit.

When you focus on one emotion, that mother fucker can take a turn….

It is important to zoom out. Remember what is worthy in the now and realize that its so hard … its so hard because your heart can talk… shhhit can it talk!!!! And if you listen to it to the point where you know you’re making a mistake —then maybe your heart does not have your best interest. Is this possible?

It just misses them.
Listen to your mind on this one. the rationale is in the right.
what do you even miss? the lies, the territory, the illusion?
the fraudulent nature of your situationship.

But how?

Find creative ways to exert your feelings, confusion, and clutter.

Sit in a room of sadness and release it all, until your body just ask for rest.


Write. Talk. Tell your story.

Find the purpose, the positive in it all.

Be thankful because he is your peace now. He is your home. Without him, you feel a little empty.

Or do I feel empty?

What is it?

I take deep breaths now. I take them all the time.

The adult world is weird. I think about how it comes quicker for others. It rushes and rushes. You must be prepared.

And theres no way you can be … It’s these sharp slashes through your beating heart. that mold it for you.

I will no longer think about the last house i saw you in.
Because everyone went there too.

– bye

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s