Viva la Rebellion
I have few memories of my childhood. As though someone sifted through my mind and selectively erased the parts I didn’t like or couldn’t handle. The memories left behind are a mixture of a youthful vivacity for the wondrous playground that is the outdoors, and an underlining turmoil that both incites and haunts me.
I’ve been holding back on posting anything on social media for the past seven months or so. I was debating whether to post anything at all, but since I’m back on my poetry kick lately I guess it couldn’t hurt to write a quick update about where I’m at in this point of my recovery.
I’ve said it a million times, but this time I am serious; I am leaving Twatter. I suffer from mental health issues that are increasingly perpetrated by stupid people. Every day as I go about my routine activities, I am bombarded by sexual harassment, drug solicitation, depraved behavior, and the incessant political ramblings of laypeople who have no clue what they are talking about. Then I go on Twatter and my mind is traumatized by ignorance.
I can’t tell if it’s me that is broken or if it’s the world that is broken or if my head is stuck in a box. Or maybe the box is all in my head and I can’t escape because the box makes more sense than the world.
Or maybe we’re all just a bunch of broken pieces scattered in a melee of confusion, trying to connect, yearning to transform into an enchanted castle on a hill, fortified with wisdom and built with enduring love.
Where’s the kitchen sink? Aren’t you throwing everything? How far will you go? Ten years back ain’t far enough You gotsta lay down the law
