Dear Reader...

drifter.

2012-01-31T15:09:00.002-05:00

What is this demon inside me
ever clawing it's way out?
It's almost to the surface now,
and I know without a doubt
that's it's going to ruin everything,
everything I love so dear.
It's tormenting my mind,
and filling my soul with fear.
Why can't I control this?
It comes out every fucking time.
I try so hard to fight it,
but it completely takes my mind.
The thing is not a passive czar.
It takes over by force.
It's so violent in nature,
and it never shows remorse.
I, on the other hand,
hate to play along
with the scene that's written out for me,
but it seems to be set in stone.
I'm the puppet on a string
whose master is so cruel,
I'm hating every move I make.
It taunts me, I'm only a tool.
It uses me to break hearts.
It uses me to devastate
the ones I love around me.
Be careful; I'm used as bait.
I wish there was a way to stop
this monster inside of me,
but its' plan is never to finish
until it's destroyed everything.
I'm only at peace when I dream.

@2010 Portia Thompson

blah blah blah... bullshit.

2011-12-03T17:02:00.001-05:00

I had a frightening thought tonight..

I’ve always wanted to run away, to get away.. escape.. from this town, these people, my past, all the memories that haunt me if I’m not on the move. Over the years, I’ve acquired quite a bit of knowledge and consider myself a self-taught expert on how to run away. I can tell you how to leave town without a trace, how to meticulously plan it, what to do, where to go. I can tell you how to change your identity and acquire a new one.. start over fresh. I can tell you how to just completely disappear without a trace. Tonight was depressing because I realized that even with all this knowledge and my studies on the subject… I will never have any use for any of it. No one will miss me. No one would come looking for me. I could just up and walk away from everything and everyone right this minute … and I wouldn’t have to “disappear”. I wouldn’t have to go to great lengths to cover my tracks, to run away. No one would care.

Story of my life.

I guess the question now is how does this thought affect me? I’m not completely sure if I know yet… other than of course, it tearing up my mind with the other plaguing thoughts of how worthless I am, how I mean nothing to no one.

I guess that’s just the way the chips always fall for me, though, so I shouldn’t expect anything more.

I was also researching more about my personality profile today, and instead of making me feel like someone out there understands me or may be like me in some way… it only made me feel more alone.

I’ve always known who I am contradicts itself. My values, my morals, my thoughts, …. The way I do things, the way I perceive things. It’s like I never know who I really am. I never know how I’m going to react to a certain situation and I never know what choices I’m going to make. All I make are bad ones, irregardless. It’s a frightening thing to feel as though you don’t even know yourself.

Apparently though, with my personality type … which happens to only make up 1% of the population (the rarest of all personalities)… this is quite normal. People with this personality (INFP) are completely logical and completely illogical at the same time. They are scatterbrained and yet they are organized. They are predominately left brained and also predominately right brained. They are reserved and shy away from people and relationships yet they have the capacity and DO really love and care about people as a whole and want to save the world. They are negative but they have a positive outlook. They are reserved on the inside and yet can come across to others as normal in a social situation. They like facts and figures and logical minded things, and yet they are fascinated by the mystic, the spiritual, the unknown. Most often known as “wanderers”, “dreamers”, and “self-seekers.” Always restless, never satisfied. Always questions, never answers. They think too much.

The entire thing is just frustrating. It’s such bullshit. But that’s me. And I think they’ve hit the nail on the head. Unfortunately, as I mentioned before, it only makes me feel more alone.

But what can you do?

panic.

2011-11-05T16:23:00.000-04:00

It's forever in my thoughts.

Crouching silently at the back of my mind, it haunts me. As if an animal, it sits on haunches there, seemingly quiet, but it only waits for the perfect opportunity to attack. Monitoring my every move with frightening focus, I feel stalked like prey. I am a prisoner in my own mind; this intruder has become my captor. I have been made a victim. I do all I can to fight this unwelcome inhabitant of my mind, but I have scar after scar to prove any struggling is futile.

The time I once battled to resist, it all too easily gnawed and slashed its way back to freedom. Using its razor-sharp teeth and jagged, dirty claws, the evil quickly tore through each cord of rope with which I had fought valiantly to bind it. I desperately wished to overtake it for good, but I was hopelessly defeated.

I retreated and cowered in fear as the shredded strands of rope left from its escape fell on the cold ground. I knew instantly the frayed remains of rope were a forewarning of the punishment to come from provoking it. Very soon after, I did violently regret angering it, for it sought vengeance on me. It came after me worse than ever before.

These days, the tormentor runs loose, and it taunts me with uncontrollable thoughts of the next attack. I am constantly frightened and must always be on guard. Ever patient and ever watchful, it prepares to pounce upon me when my back is turned. It waits a while and waits still, until the moment I ever so slightly loosen my white-knuckled grip on reality.

Then, WHAM!
It strikes.
And for only a brief few moments I am unaware it has gotten the best of me.

But once my mind is in its deathly clutch, all sense is strangled from me.

There is no more mind,
no more reason,
no more intellect.
There are no more rational thoughts.

I am no longer me.

There is only suffocation.

Only terror.

My head becomes heavy, and my thoughts are suddenly muddled and confused.
What?
I talk aloud to distract myself, but this only increases panic because of the irrational sounds flowing from my lips.

I shut my mouth tightly with my hand.
No more talking.

I cannot think straight anymore, but my last rational thought is of my attacker and how it has me in its clutches again. It is suffocating me, and I choke because I cannot take a breath.

It’s going to kill me.

My lungs are empty and burning. I’m gasping for breath, and hot tears begin to roll down my cheeks. My heart rate rises to that dangerous level I've learned to recognize, and my heart pounds on my chest so intensely I begin to violently ache.

It burns.

I grasp my chest in pain, and my hands clutch as tightly as they can, hoping for some relief. Later, I find fingernail-shaped scabs on my chest where I drew blood from my clasp. I’m gasping more severely now, trying to breathe and trying to fight through the searing pain. My chest is consumed with the stabbing of one thousand blades, the majority of it radiates down through my arms out to my fingertips. My heart is still running, racing, just trying to escape from my body. The only sound I can hear is the rushing of blood pulsing violently between my ears, my frantic heartbeat, and my feet pounding the pavement as I start to run.

The physical pain is intense, but nothing can compare to the absolute terror when I can no longer think, reason, or make a decision. My head is burning trying to formulate a thought, but there are no thoughts but:

I’m on fire.

Gasping and choking. Coughing, unable to catch my breath.
Calm down.

Lightheaded, dizzy.

I cannot think.

What is my name? Where am I?

I think the world does not exist.

I decide I am not real.

I hear the voices.

They are watching.

I become paranoid to the point of hallucination....

I decide I cannot live like this anymore.

Everything fades away,
I dissolve along with it.

remember how it feels.

2011-10-10T21:10:00.000-04:00

September 12, 2011

I haven’t written in a while… I know better than this.

The craziness, the anxieties, the constant tension inside my mind destroys me…

Maybe writing is the only escape I’ll ever have.

My therapy.

Even the long drives aren’t helping anymore…

The road only seems to beckon me further each time,

And I’m running out of paths that loop back towards home.

What is home?

I suppose it’s supposed to be the place I return to each day.

Or maybe the place I rest my head at night…

But even these things don’t give me the at ease feeling of “Home”.

You know, the deep inhale then exhale your insides do after one of those never-ending days…

My days are always never-ending.

Although I can vaguely recall the sighing feeling, it’s still a very distant memory.

Far away.

Everything seems so foreign to me these days.

Everything feels so far away.

Where are you?

“How can I wish to write, to articulate everything within me, when I do not wish to be myself?”

This is gnawing the walls of my mind.

These walls are bleeding and sore.

I can’t even place it on my mental shelf.

It continues to eat at me.

I’ve got to stop fighting.

What doesn’t eat at me?

Deterioration.

My life, my mind, … even my body are all in constant deterioration.

I’m a sickly human being, and even the doctor in town couldn’t say what is wrong.

“It’s probably a virus of some sort”

I didn’t need a PhD to think that.

Then again, she was referring to a physical virus.

I know there’s a virus.

Virus of the mind.

I’ve been vomiting.

I don’t vomit.

Vomiting like hell.

It’s like I’ve been poisoned…

Am I poisoning myself?

It’s been done.

Weight.

My head is heavy, and the stress attacks me with stabbing pains.

The burden falls to my shoulders and there it lies tangling itself into knots.

My arms are weak from holding on then giving up, holding on then giving up.

Round and around and around ....

I always loved the spinning rides at theme parks.

But there’s no exit here.

The remainder of the tension drops violently into the pit of my stomach,

And I vomit just as violently to purge myself of it.

But it’s pointless.

It remains as it always will.

Perhaps after I’m gone what’s left of me will be on pages of paper.

Written in ink, and maybe it will count for something.

Immortality?

Foolishness.

I don’t want to live forever.

But it’s what the rest of the world is aiming for.

Religion, fame, ….

Why am I so different?

Alone.

One in six billion.

Perhaps my short, short life will be on paper like the greatest of writers who dealt with similar, if not the same, demons in this hell of our mind’s creation.

I’m interrupted in my thoughts by a “Child Abduction Emergency” report broadcasting through the television…. Somehow all I can think of is my own child.

My mother was right.

I’m self-absorbed and ignorant.

Young.

So?

There are people with more problems than I.

The world is spinning on without me, leaving me behind.

When the dust settles and all is clear,

Maybe you won’t find me here.

“That one is for free.”

The Truman show.

My thoughts are ridiculous.

Will they ever stop?

I cannot type as fast as I think.

Of course.

Talking to myself.

Is that like hearing voices?

I had a panic attack while driving to work.

Why?

They are more frequent now.

Why?

What is wrong with me?

What is it like to be normal?

These people are staring at me.

Can they hear my thoughts?

No.

Paranoid?

I hate you.

I feel like curling up into my shell.

Can I just disappear?

Why not?

Should I fade away or vanish?

Where are you going?

I don’t know.

Why?

"There’s a fine line between genius and insanity."

That’s only reserved for people like Einstein,

And I’m not that good at physics.

My biggest fear.

No one knows how close…

So close…

I push, poke and prod at myself…

Nearing further to the edge of oblivion.

What’s beyond?

Nothingness.

Craziness.

Silliness.

Really nothing.

No one takes me seriously.

Do I take me seriously?

I’m too serious.

Why can’t I be normal?

Is serious not normal?

Is normal not serious?

Wait, I’m confused…

Fuck.

I’d like to.

Why?

Distracting…

Give me anything that distracts me.

Distract me from myself.

Face yourself.

I can’t.

Or won’t?

I want to run away.

I want to hide.

I want to disappear.

Maybe you can run away from it all,
but remember,
you can’t run away from yourself.

That’s the scariest thing of all.

I hate myself.

I’m too afraid of death to die.

Scared to death?

Not funny.

Just fade away…….

To nothing.

No one.

Emptiness.

Alone.

Silence.

NO!

Panic.
Shit.

Not alone.
Not alone.
Not alone.

Come back to the surface!

I’m fighting.

Why?

What pulls me back?

Stop it.

I want to leave.

Stop helping me.

Helping me...

Stop!

Okay, I won’t jump.

I lied.

I always lie.

Battling with myself.

Round
and around
and around
and around….

Don’t worry.

I’m okay.

meaningless midnight musings

2011-09-29T17:15:00.000-04:00

It’s 2:45am, and you’ve long been asleep now. You’re lying right beside me, and because of the many thoughts racing through my head which have nothing to do with internet piracy, schoolwork, or even what’s on the television, I cannot focus on what needs to be done. Go figure.

I’m really hoping I’ll be able to wake up for school in the morning considering it’s my last day of school this term and I have all my finals. I made it! This is still so surprising to me for some reason. I guess I just needed to prove to myself that I could actually do this… I was scared to death.

It seemed (like it always seems) that my life just works against me whatever chance it gets. Random ailments, jail-time, new medications with different reactions… it all just worked together to keep me from something I really wanted. These are things I seemingly had no control over!
Did I really have no control over these seemingly unfortunate occurrences?

I know we are a lot alike in a lot of ways, but I feel sometimes there are quite a few things you don’t really know about me… maybe you never will.

On the inside where no one ever gets to go, there is a guarded space so deep, dark, and melancholy that it's frightening to even look upon.

We talked about how we go into our shells and the more we are pressed to get out, the deeper we always go. You know this, but I’m not sure if you know the triggers that cause me to hole up inside myself in the first place.

Things that make me go into my shell and bolt the door behind me:

1. Any type of abnormal or unusual stress

2. When I’m hurt

3. When I’m fighting the depression... or the anxiety

4. When I feel someone is getting too close

5. When I’m unsure of myself or confused and haven't yet come to any sort of conclusion on my thoughts

…..

I just went outside for a cigarette and came to the conclusion that all of my thoughts are meaningless. Pointless.

Have you ever just wanted to completely start over? To erase everything you’ve ever done, everything you’ve lived through, everyone you’ve known…. And just begin again?

I’m not foolish enough to think that I’m the only one who has ever felt this way, but I can’t help but feel my life so intensely. I know it’s not possible to start over. I know the “way” to “start over” is by picking yourself up from whatever you are in that moment and creating something new out of yourself in spite of the past.

Can I choose to love me… in spite of me?

You said earlier that the main thing we have in common is: passion.

That’s a very true statement, at least for me. But I just feel like some stories are meant to be tragedies… and they will always be tragedies no matter whom or what you introduce into the plot. I’ve always felt like my life has and will always have a tragic theme or motif forever running through it, and I’m completely helpless to stop it. Helpless.

I honestly just want to run away from everyone and everything… to have my memory completely erased and forget who I was, who I am, and who I will be in this life.

This isn’t even something I should be writing about now… at 3:13am when I need to be finishing my paper for tomorrow morning class. I desperately need to rest and I’m too exhausted to think straight any longer, but I know now at this point that sleep will completely escape me tonight.

…

I want to be someone different, and I can’t help that.

I guess it all just boils down to this for me:
I really and truly only want someone who can know me and love me anyway, someone who will love me for absolutely me… is this possible?

Someone who can break down the walls my life has built inside of me, someone who will fight for me and with me… in spite of me, someone who can be the one to visit the depths of me… the dark, scary, dirty, and dusty chambers and haunted corridors of my mind and emotions. No one is allowed to enter there.

We've spoken about this before, but it’s not that I necessarily want to die; I just don’t want to live. I truly and wholeheartedly understand what you mean when you say things like this to me.

Are we too much alike for our own good?

But as I stated before, these are all just meaningless mid-night thoughts….
only questions that will never have answers.
But that's nothing new for me, is it?

There is so much inside of me…
if only I could let someone in that far.

But I don’t think I can.

Goodnight, love.

i refuse.

2011-09-28T17:58:00.000-04:00

I refuse to regret any longer.

I refuse to regret, for those things I have long hated have brought me where I am today.

I will love where I am today.

I refuse to regret.

I refuse to regret my mistakes, for they are the platform from which I learn important lessons.

I will never make those mistakes again.

I refuse to regret.

I refuse to regret my past, for it made me who I am today.

I will love who I am today.

I refuse to regret.

I refuse to regret any decision, for it has brought me into tomorrow.

I will never fear tomorrow.

I refuse to regret.

I refuse to regret yesterday, for it gives me the motivation to make today better.

I will have courage to face today.

I refuse to regret.

I refuse to despise the pain of missing someone, for that only proves that I have loved.

I will love deeper.

I refuse to ignore pain.

I refuse to hold onto anything that has hurt me, for it taught me how to forgive.

I will always be quick to forgive.

I refuse to hold on to hurt.

I refuse to not forgive myself, for the need for forgiveness proves I am only human.

I will never fear humans.

I refuse to not forgive.

I refuse to hate those who have hurt me, for it proves they are only human as I am.

I will love and respect everyone.

I refuse to hate.

I refuse to be unhappy, for joy fuels the world.

I will always be joyful.

I refuse to be unhappy.

I refuse to take things so seriously, for serious people are boring and stressed.

I will live my life to the fullest.

I refuse to be too serious.

I refuse to let my emotions control me, for those who do are unstable as the wind.

I am stable, dependable, and devoted.

I refuse to be controlled by emotions.

I refuse to be complacent and timid, for those who are let life walk all over them.

I will not be crushed, defeated, or destroyed by life.

I refuse not to be bold.

I refuse to have troubles, for those who do cannot help others with their troubles.

I will always be quick to help others.

I refuse to have troubles.

I refuse to remember the bad, for that is only wasting space for remembering the good.

I will always look for the good in the bad.

I refuse to focus on the bad.

I refuse to let anything hold me back, for those who do never move forward.

I will constantly move forward.

I refuse to be held back.

I refuse to sit still and stay where I am, for those who do never accomplish anything.

I will be an accomplisher.

I refuse to be comfortable.

I refuse to be negative, for those who are never change the world.

I will be a world-changer.

I refuse to be negative.

I refuse to believe my life is over, for if I do I rob myself of the power to change my future.

I will change the future.

I refuse to believe that it’s over.

I refuse doing things half-way or half-heartedly, for those who do are never best at anything.

I will do my best at everything.

I refuse to not go the extra mile.

I will stand up for what I know is right, for if I don’t I deny myself.

I will not deny myself.

I will stand up for what is right.

to whom it may concern.

2011-09-25T17:28:00.000-04:00

I have one question for those of you ...
(my "family", my old circle of "friends", you crazy gossiping "Christians" ...
anyone who won't leave me and my life the hell alone)
... claiming to disagree with my “lifestyle”.

What is it you think I’m doing?

It’s funny, the last three - ish years, I’ve done nothing but work 70+ hours a week. When I did have a day off, I’d spend it with someone I loved, usually playing tennis or walking around town window shopping. I never had extra money to spend. I scraped together every single dime just to pay the bills while holding onto a small hope I would someday be able to go to school. Yes, I hang out at the pool hall. I sit and watch people who are really passionate about what they do. Real people. True people. Wonderful people, no matter how “worldly” you think they may be. What an idiotic thing to say.

In the “world”, I have made truer and richer friendships than I ever had with the hypocrites I once associated with who never could accept me for who I really am. They always wanted me to change. Now here you stand, years later, doing it again. No matter how much I changed to suit you, I was never good enough. I have “fallen off the face of the earth”, as most of you put it, and there are now only a very select few people I associate with because I was bitten by the people who claimed to know me most, the ones who claimed to love me most, my own flesh and blood.

I go to school, go to work, come home and eat with someone I care for greatly. Yes, I sit around a little fire after we grill our dinner at night outside my little one bedroom apartment. My beat to hell and back car, which god-only-knows-how-it’s-still-running, is parked right outside. But I’m lucky. I have a car that runs well, someone who loves me, wonderful friends who have changed me in ways I can only see as better, and a place to rest my head at night. I have found a family who is truer to me than my real family has ever been, and although I don’t have many friends, the ones I do are such a blessing to me and my life.

Yes, I have a few beer every night to relax, but I rarely, if ever, “go out”. I don’t club hop. I don’t do drugs. I don’t party. Yes, I like tattoos. I like to dye my hair, and I like to smoke. I like to cuss too. So what? It’s the way I choose to express myself. I’m a writer. I like words.

I spend my free time in the sun or out on the water relaxing where I can be worlds away from everyone and everything. I take my boyfriend’s most precious and wonderful daughter to play in the park when we have her on weekends. We’ve been teaching her to play tennis, and it’s something she enjoys immensely. She isn’t my child, but seeing her running around laughing and enjoying being with her dad and me makes my days. Her beautiful smile lights up my life, and she keeps my world spinning.

So again, I present you with this question: What the hell is it you think I do?

I’m not prostituting myself on the street corner. I don’t have a child out of wedlock at 20 years old. I’m not hooked on heroine, crack, or meth. Neither have I once considered touching them. I show up for work, show up for school, try to pay my damn bills… and I’ve worked my ass off for everything I have. It’s mine. I did that myself, and I’m proud.

Yes, I fall into depression sometimes. It’s a deep, dark hole, but something I’ve struggled with since I was a mere twelve years old. I’m closed off and I get insecure at times. I have bouts of extreme anxiety for which I take medication, and I have anger problems when I’m pushed too far or stressed too much. These things are a direct result of what I’ve been through my entire life… emotional damage that I never talk about, never let show, never have let show. So what? This makes me a bad person? This makes me a bad influence? You say so, but you’re a fool and a hypocrite just like most people I’ve known. This is why I’ve chosen to distance myself from you and anyone else who I no longer have contact with. I don’t need or want that in my life. Go fuck yourself.

So, I’m sorry to you and the others who I chose long ago to remove from my life. I did so for my own mental health and sanity. I did that for my personal growth, and I love where I’m at and the person I am today. It's a surreal thing to have to write years later to address you on this issue again.

So, please do tell me. What the hell makes you feel the way you do about me… the way everyone from my life before thinks of me… the way my own flesh and blood think of me? I’m sorry you won’t let me be me and never have let me be me. I’m sorry you choose to see my distance as a negative thing, and I’m sorry you are so ignorant and blinded.
But that’s the only goddamn thing I’m sorry for.

“She’s a psychedelic princess on a magic carpet ride, and where her trip will carry you is somewhere you can’t find. She’s on a plane to higher consciousness; meditation is the key. She’s got her shit together ‘cause her soul and mind are free.”

just words that rhyme.

2011-09-21T21:18:00.000-04:00

I’ll love you forever with all my heart,
but now I hate you with my brain.
You left… but kept me in the dark,
and I’m not allowed to complain?!
Then it’s all your fault if I act insane.

Did you do this out of spite for me,
wanting to hurt and leave me confused?
Were you wanting to know just how cruel you could be?
How can I be the one you abuse!
And for everything, it's me you dare accuse?

I should’ve treated you with the same "compassion"
as you’ve kept on treating me.
I wouldn’t get the same sick satisfaction,
but I bet you’d fall onto your knees.
You’d cry for mercy, begging please!

You tore me apart, and I'm still bleeding,
But I guess I’m glad you're not as unwell.
You should know, its only of you I’m still dreaming,
but my dreams are nightmares, and it's hell.
Will I’ll never be able to say farewell?

Memories hit me hardest at the worst of times,
and they beat me to death when I’m down.
I lie wide awake in bed most nights,
but I must cry without a sound
because of the other who’s now around.

Why couldn’t I turn and walk away from you
when you decided you wouldn't stay?
Then, why did I let you have me again
after you pushed me so far away?
You knew “No”, to you, I could never say.

I wish I could be done with you, fickle-minded king.
So then, what is it that stops me every single time?
Forever waiting means you're forever winning,
and my life shouldn’t run by what you decide
because you always change your mind.

Will you ever choose to let us to go back?
Will we only be old, distant friends?
Or will I someday turn to face a gat
that will seal my fucking end?

No, my love, don't worry.
Maybe my heart will mend.

be free

2011-09-20T14:20:00.000-04:00

“I’m not good enough.”

This was the running theme of my life for so long. Not only was I not good enough…. I hated myself for it. I wasn’t this, or I wasn’t that. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t force myself to be the person I wanted myself to be. I was becoming more and more miserable with myself. I hated myself. I hated the person I was...everything about me.

For most of my life, I felt the only thing at which I was consistent was failing. I felt like I failed everyone all the time… no matter what I did. Those around me reinforced these ideas, perhaps unknowingly, perhaps not. I couldn’t make anyone happy. I failed them because I made decisions they wouldn’t have made for themselves… I didn’t think like everyone else. I failed them because of simpler things, like never being on time. I failed because I wasn’t self-disciplined. I wouldn’t commit to anything. I never finished anything I started. I absolutely despised myself, and the more I dwelled on this, the more hatred grew within me. These things haunted me. They hovered above me like a dark cloud and followed me wherever I went. I just knew there had to be something wrong with me.

So, I fought myself.

I was FIGHTING myself. That very sentence seems wrong. Each day was a constant battle as I tried to mold and form (more like, cram-shove-push-pull-prod-poke-prim) myself into being someone I wasn’t. I was forcing myself to be who I thought “they” wanted me to be, who I wanted me to be. I was supposed to “deal with” these “problems” of mine. I was supposed to figure out ways to be more organized, be more stable, be more punctual, and be more put together. I was supposed to want to settle down and have clear goals to achieve in life. I was supposed to be driven, motivated, forward-minded, success-minded…. And if I wasn’t, I was supposed to develop these traits. I was supposed to be focused. I was supposed to want certain things, RIGHT? I was supposed to know what I wanted, RIGHT? I was supposed to have a PLAN, supposed to have goals, visions, and pursuits. This is the way to success, RIGHT?

I tried. I wanted to accomplish everything. I violently desired to be someone else… someone who could follow a structured plan and a guideline. I wanted to be someone who made every deadline and someone who was always on time… organized and together. I wanted to have a plan, and I wanted to be able to follow through with the plan. I tried to hide how much I was failing to become this “person”.

So I edited myself.

To the world, I presented the perfect, beautiful person I was supposed to be turning into. I took to meticulously omitting all the dark, difficult parts, the poetics that, at their core, made me who I was. My writings, my words, my deeds… they were all false. They were all edited. They all came from a woman confused about who she was. They came from someone who didn’t want to be herself.

“How could I wish to be a writer, to articulate everything within me, when I did not wish to be myself?”
This question plagued me.

Have you heard the story of the hippopotamus?
The hippopotamus wasn’t sure who he was. So, he decided to be a zebra. He painted stripes on himself and ran around saying, “I’m a zebra! I’m a zebra!” But that didn’t work because everyone knew he wasn’t a zebra. He was a hippopotamus. So, the hippopotamus decided to be a leopard. He painted spots all over himself and ran around this time saying, “I’m a leopard! I’m a leopard!” But that didn’t work either because everyone knew he wasn’t a leopard. He was a hippopotamus. So finally one day, after exhausting all his efforts, the hippopotamus looked at himself in the mirror and saw a hippopotamus. He said to himself, “I can’t be a zebra. I can’t be a leopard. I can only be a hippopotamus because that is who I am. No matter how I try to change myself… the way I look, the way I act, or what I say, and no matter how hard I try to convince everyone I am something other than a hippopotamus, I am still a hippopotamus. All I can do is the best hippopotamus I can be.” So once he realizes this, he is happy. He is happy as a hippo.”

I am only who I am, and that’s all I can be.

Well, you want to know me?
I’ve lived a lot in my short years on earth. I dropped out of high school before I finished, and I’ve gotten fired from every job I ever had. I wasn’t happy in high school, and I wasn’t happy at my jobs. So, I quit in search of what would make me happy. Some say I ran away, but I left because I was done. I was ready to move on. At another point, I worked my ass off with two jobs, working more than 70 hours a week, just to support myself after I moved out of my parents’ house at a young age. I had to grow up pretty fast, and I threw myself into the world. “Ready or not, here I come” style. That’s how I’ve always done things. I’m reckless, and I make rash decisions. I’m enslaved to my whims, desires, inspirations, and passions. Fleeting as the wind… I’ve been in a lot of relationships. I’ve been in good relationships, and I’ve been in shitty ones. I learned a lot from them, but I continued on… Fleeting as the wind. I’ve seen a lot of the world. I’ve moved a lot, and I’ve been happy, and I’ve been sad, and I’ve been lonely… and that’s what I’ve been doing. I just sort of flutter around, and let the tides and the winds take me where they please. I do just like to move a lot, though. I get suffocated easily and then it’s difficult to breathe. I’m always escaping, whether I go for a long drive or get out of town for a few days. I just always have to be going. I’m really restless. I get kind of stir-crazy if I’m stuck in the same place for too long, you know what I mean? My whole life I’ve struggled with A.D.D. (a very real disorder). I’m completely terrible at staying on task. I’m usually running late. I’m disorganized in most areas of my life... except when I really care about something. I’m the type of person who can have a disaster of a mess in a room and not give a damn, but who will meticulously wipe a speck of dust or dirt off my English papers, a bookshelf or book, or something I’m working on passionately. My mind continuously runs on overdrive, and my thoughts are scattered and incomplete, not to mention, deep. I have a lot of anxiety because of this. I have frequent panic attacks, and they make me feel as though I’m two steps away from the insane asylum. I’m interested in everything, curious by nature… and I’m always searching for something to inspire me. I’ll try anything once, and I frequently switch from one interest, passion, activity, or job to the next in order to stay inspired and feel alive again. I’m not intentionally fickle in my interests or relationships, but I’m always searching for the person, place, or activity that consistently has me feeling alive. I’m not a creature of habit. I hate habits. Because of all this, I go through stages where I throw out everything I own, everything I’ve ever written, or change something drastic in my life just to refresh myself. I can’t make plans… I don’t make plans because I fail to follow through with them. I’ve lost many friends because of this. I tend to be pretty shady and difficult to track down. Ask anyone! I’m the most non-committal person you’ll ever meet.

But you know what? I’m not certain anymore if these are bad things! The things I used to hate about myself, these traits I despised and who many others saw as negatives in my life as well…. They make me who I am.

The way I’ve come to see it, you have two choices. You can either be one of those driven, success-minded, forward-focused people with goals and deadlines in life. You can be one of those people who do everything by a structured plan … and you know what, maybe that’s the way to succeed. Maybe that’s the way to accomplish the things you want out of life. Maybe that’s the best way to live. So take that path, if you can.

But maybe for others, life isn’t about accomplishments and success and the pursuit of happiness … maybe accomplishments and success and happiness come to you …if your schedule is open to allow for it. Maybe it falls in your lap when you least expect it. Maybe if you free yourself, clear your mind… maybe then, you will see life clearly and allow yourself to be happy.

What if it’s okay to be the type of person who hasn’t figured it all out yet? Maybe it’s okay to be as mobile as the wind. Maybe its alright to be free-spirited and wild. Maybe it doesn’t matter if it’s not all figured out, it doesn’t matter if I don’t have a plan, and it doesn’t matter what happens tomorrow or if my plans fall through or what I thought the future would bring, it didn’t… Maybe it’s okay that I can’t commit to anything. Maybe it’s okay that I’m not focused and driven. Maybe it’s okay I can’t make deadlines and I’m terrible at finishing things I start. Maybe it’s alright if I don’t make plans. Maybe it’s alright that I don’t plan my life. Maybe it’s okay if I don’t plan for a husband and a family and a house and a yard and a white picket fence with a golden retriever.… Maybe that’s just the way I am. And maybe, just maybe, that’s the better way to live…. without all my plans to interrupt the joy of living my life. For Christ’s sake, it’s about the RIDE! RIGHT?

“Life is such a fucking rollercoaster… then it drops! But what should I scream for? This is MY theme park!”

There’s no point in going through all this SHIT, if you’re not going to enjoy the ride. It’s about the journey, not the destination, right? And you know what, if you don’t have it all planned out, and you’re not too busy being upset because life interrupts your plans anyway or they fall through on their own….. something great might come along, something better than you would have even planned for yourself! But what if you were too busy making plans and catching deadlines? What if you were too busy for life?!… You might miss out on the best thing to ever happen to you! You might miss out on LIFE! Do you want that?

It’s not about what happened to you in the past, or even about what you think might happen in the future. Just let go, there’s such freedom in that. That’s just my philosophy anyway. Everyone is always so serious. People take life so seriously, but what’s the point? JUST RIDE. You never know what might happen next, so embrace that. Enjoy the liberation of losing control. Just let go. Of everything…. See what happens.

Be Free.

one need not be a chamber to be haunted, one need not be a house; the brain has corridors surpassing all material places.

2011-07-21T21:13:00.000-04:00

The days dragging long,
Longer are the nights,
I've begun detesting every word that I write.
We stole a moment,
We meant no harm.
I return to drunkenness,
But rest never comes.
Rest from my thoughts,
And rest from my fears.
Alone again and broken,
I'm drowning in tears.
Tears I cannot show on the outward face,
But the ones inside from fresh memories that won't erase.
Dying and locked up deep in these despairs,
I'm only left to wonder why you are not there,
Held captive by these horrors in the prison where I am?...
Why I can't move on and forget,
And why the hell you can?

i miss africa, dammit.

2010-08-05T17:44:00.000-04:00

""""You know you're from Africa when...
- it doesn't seem right to pay the asking price on anything in a store. If you can't barter for it, it's not worth having..

- you're appalled that American grocery stores only sell one or two different types of bananas..

- your family yells at you for forgetting to use silverware in public..

- you're going to visit your Grandparents and take you passport ~ just in case you have to evacuate.

- you call everyone older then you uncle or aunt..

- you'd rather be barefoot..

- black outs are nothing new to you..

- no running water is just another ordinary thing.

- 40 degrees is cold.

- You can do your monthly shopping on the pavement..

- four cars are driving parallel to each other on a one-lane road..

- The smell of freshly rained on mud paths/tarmac is comforting.

- being an hour late equals being "on time".

- you get car sick because the roads just don't have enough potholes!.

- Cramming 7 passengers in a 4 passenger taxi is really not a big deal.

- you know never to question what you're eating (even if it does taste good), cuz sometimes you just don't want to know..

- you invite people for a get together at 7 and they all come at 9..

- football is played with some sort of ROUND ball and WITHOUT hands..

- everyone in your country plays football (the type just mentioned)..

- you cram 24 people into a 14 passenger matuatu and have never felt closer to your friends..

- you make friends with the local shepherd and know the goats by name..

- you spent countless hours shining your shoes when u know very well that by the time you get to the taxi stop, they'll be covered in unbeleivable dirt!..

- you keep converting the value of things in your home currency when you see the US dollar value.

- a plane flies by and you just cant help but look up!.

- you have another name in your home language.

- you hate American corn, because it's never hard enough.

- you've drank real chai, not this coffeeshop stuff. .

- you remember being so confused about how you could pay for something with a visa..

- you expect people to tell you they're fine before you ask them.

- you used to shower under the rain..

- someone is riding their bike down the road with corrugated iron strapped width wise across the back of the bike and its taking up more than half of the road.

- you miss rain on a corrugated iron roof; it's so loud you have to shout to be heard.

- you've been proposed to while walking down the street (if you're a girl, that is, lol)..

- you know what true hospitality and generosity is.

- when those who have almost nothing still welcome you in with open arms and are willing to share everything they have with you - even though they barely know you!..

- someone asks you how much your sister costs.

- your brother tries to sell you to his college roommate for 36 cows or goats...

- You unwrap all your gifts carefully, so that you can reuse the wrapper.

- You call a person you've never met before uncle or aunt..

- Nobody in your family informs you that they are coming over for a visit.

- You never have less than 20 people to meet you at the airport or see you off even if it is a local flight..

- someone offers seven cows for your infant sisters future hand in marriage..

- you learn the native words for "white person" everywhere you go, because you hear it shouted everywhere you go.

- something that would normally take half an hour in the Western world takes a few days or weeks..

- and if it didn't it just wouldn't be fun..

- you find it completely natural to have burglar-bars outside your windows..

- you know not to question the contents of your food when it tastes good..

- you bought your cellphone through your car window.

- chicken is a luxury.

- you wonder why there aren't any herds of cows and goats walking down the street in North America

- you can smell the rain before it comes.

- you can look up at the sky and see every star clearly..

- the sunset is something to look forward to

- you miss the the sound of rain on your tin roof at night, the after-rain smell, and the spectacular lightning shows..

- the only thing you throw away is avacado stones, and even then you wonder if you should save them and plant a tree.

- every white thing you own has permently turned a curious shade of orange..

- everywhere you walk children run up to you shouting, 'how are you! how are you, how are you?' mzungu! mzungu!.

- You spend as little time as possible in the toilet, and can hold your breath for amazing lengths of time..

- you always drink your drink straight away in front of the shop, and give them the bottle back..

- you spray 'Doom' in your tent before going to bed..

- you´re NOT in Africa and you miss everything everybody else mentioned so much it hurts...

- you dream about Africa - a lot. ..

- you think of giving up trying to convince people of what it´s really like - even though they really do try, they often just don´t understand...

- you expect to be able to buy roast corn, fried meat or fish, boiled yams or cassava etc whilst you are travelling on public transport..

- having mud-orange feet is normal..

- instead of being greeted with "good morning", you're greeted with "Are you awake?".

- the rain anywhere else feels cold..

- you learn quickly that pedestrians DO NOT have the right-of-way.

- you realize that after leaving africa you can never have another piece of fruit that will ever taste as good as it does there.

- you can buy anything you like at traffic lights, from fruit to hangers to kitchen knifes...

- your 'guard dogs' were the most lovable pets ever

- you prefer music that's slightly out of tune.

- b.o. is a comforting smell...

- you reuse plastic throwaways.

- $2 is too much for a t-shirt..

- the smell of an old, smoky diesel engine makes you smile and long for 'home'.

- pop comes in bottles.

- you aren't surprised when you have to stop the car to let three giraffes finish crossing the highway in front of you.

- you buy your milk in a triangular carboard container from a hut on the side of the road.

- you know that an umbrella is useless during the rainy season and simply accept the fact that you'll be wet for 3 months.

- and really don't mind either.

- you've seen a sky so blue you could cry, with thick, perfect white clouds you can almost taste.

- people bump into the car in front, check out the damage, hand over some money (maybe!) and then drive off!

- you think nothing of driving down a road that has potholes bigger than anything

- you get culture shock in a grocery store, when you see the shelves completely stocked with 15 different kinds of whatever!

- you're an expert at packing bags and people into cars. . . and making everything fit!!!..

- When there's no electricity, you're in bed by dark and up at sunrise.

- When you go to the pictures to see a movie...and the place is like something out of the 1950s...and not only do they put the film on especially for the 4 of you because there's no-one else there but it's a dvd ....and a pirated one at that....

- you buy a movie on the street, get home and watch it, and realize that you can hear the person chomping on their popcorn in the theatre...only the best :).

- you're sure your going to die 9 times in a 5 minute minibus trip.

- You remeber the smell of the first rain signaling the end of the dry season

- you hand in your glass bottle of fizzy soft drink back to the shop keeper for recycling just to get your deposit back.

- you just can't explain the concept of snow..

- your bed back in north america doesn't seem right without a mosquito net

- when you try to convince your friends and family that it actually is a lot more logical and easier to transport things on your head
- everyone is family.

- you wonder where all the elephants, giraffes, buffalo, and other animals are while your driving down the highway

- pop a squat has a whole new meaning.

- when a baboon has taken your food right out of your hand.

- you're dreaming of a red/orange/green Christmas instead of a white one..

- you know what TIA means.

- tears well up in your eyes as you read this list, either wishing that you were back in Africa or glad that you are still there...

""""

the first of february.

2010-02-01T02:36:00.003-05:00

Why is it that I can never seem to write as beautifully as the art comes to me inside my head? Tonight, I feel the compelling urge to write out my soul until it bleeds, but it’s rather inconvenient because I’m required to be awake within approximately four hours. It will be three hours before I’m satisfied.
Writing; it’s my art. I’m not perfected in the beautiful talents of poetry, dance, paint, music, or even sculpture as I long so desperately to be. I’m nowhere near even near perfected in the one I claim for myself. To write is such a glorious thing, and anyone should tell you that it’s simply foolish to disagree. People should do many things that they do not.
I read a quote once that said, “Deliver me from writers who say the way they live doesn’t matter. I don’t think a bad person can write a good book. If art doesn’t make us better, what on earth is it for?”
I pondered this question for a while earlier this evening, and then retired it to my mental sort of shelf where I keep all my unanswered questions and random musings I mean to return to at my next convenience. Life interrupts all the thinking. There are many great things on that shelf. Mostly there is a collection of random thoughts… half-understood questions, almost completed musings, glorious figuring. Questions are my specialty; I’m infamous for them. Some of my wonderings I’m aware will never be answered, unless I’m destined for eternity like I once so boldly claimed. Is it possible to be sure of anything?
I was born for eternity. I can feel it; I insist. But what are feelings, emotions? Science (a group of highly respected realists) so aptly states that what is real is only what can be understood with at least one of the five distinct human senses… touch, taste, smell, sight, and sound. Emotions; are they real? It is true they are oft fleeting like the wind, but they are certainly real. With my emotions, I am more strongly aware of each of my five senses… and more than five, if that is even conceivable.
Have you ever been in love? It’s been called the strongest of emotions with almost anyone can relate. Love can most definitely be felt, tasted, smelled, seen, and always heard even by those not directly involved at the time. No one can deny love is real.
Have you ever been with God? To the select few who claim they have, the presence IS love. Ask those who know they have felt him. To these outcasts, God can undoubtedly be felt, heard, seen, even tasted and smelled. Are they crazy? I’ve been regarded as such when I walked in their shoes. But why … when I can taste love and taste the wind? A kiss can bring even the hardest of hearts to its’ knees and strong wind can take lives. I hear the wind and can smell a coming storm miles away; I have heard unspoken words of love, and its fragrance has danced upon my skin. I can feel love just as strongly as I can feel the wind, but am I crazy to feel God? Emotions.
Love; can you define it?
God; can you define him?
It is all mysteriousness that will never be understood, but does love have the same worth if you can comprehend it? Even for a woman who demands to know all she can, discover all she can, explore all she can, understand all she can, a woman who is driven by questions and an incurable, torturous curiosity… God remains a mystery. But I know I have felt him with all five senses, … and for now, that is enough for me.

fuck this new year.

2009-12-31T13:44:00.006-05:00

I haven't written in a while, and so much has changed since then.
I've lost the desire to write.
I've lost passion for anything and everything.
Nothing really excites me anymore, and if it does, it's a fleeting and short-lived emotion.
Everything is meaningless, and nothing is any good.
Quality... Can you define it?

This year has been a year of loss.
I've lost everything that meant anything to me.
I've gained nothing.

I don't know what to do anymore.
My writing is bad, my thoughts are deep and melancholy.
I'm morose.. a woman of blackness.

Can you help me?
Shut your mouth; you can't.

I'm sick of all your lies and empty promises.
I'm sick of your failed, half-hearted attempts of rescue.
I'm sick of being hurt, and I'm sick of being thrown away.
Why can't anyone hear me?

I don't know how much more clear I can be.
I'm fucking suicidial.
What is wrong with everyone?
Nothing has any meaning.
I'm in a deeper depression than I ever knew existed.

I should be kissing the ground.
The police say I'm lucky to be alive.
Lucky?
I should have died in that car wreck.
My car shouldn't have steered itself around every obstacle
that would have meant certain death.
Steered itself?
In a direction I didn't want to go?
No control.
LUCKY?

They say you must have been watching me.
They say you must have been steering my car.
Where the hell are you?

I was so scared.
and completely alone.
That's how I was going to die.
Completely and utterly alone,
separated from God and man.

There wasn't a soul.
It was a ghost town.
I was screaming.. but no one heard me.
I was running.. but no one saw me.
I was throwing up, blacking out, falling to the ground.. but there was no one to care.
Two miles of emptiness.

Alone.
Panic.

Why couldn't anyone hear my screaming?
Why couldn't they feel my fear?
Why did they stay sound asleep in their beds while I nearly escaped death?
Was anyone listening?

Metaphor.

No one was around to know if I had died.
If I was dying, no one would have known until it was too late.

My "last" thoughts weren't complicated.
They weren't full of regret, sorrow, or even fear.
They were of nothing.
I thought of nothing except..
"I'm going to die."
Nothing.

There wasn't time to be afraid.
There wasn't time for my life to flash before my eyes.
It was all nothing.

This all just figures.
Fucking metaphor.
What do you want from me?

That was somehow the thought that came to me
once I was able to escape from my mangled car.
What the hell do you want from me?

my favorite poem.

2008-06-19T17:42:00.000-04:00

What happens to a dream deferred?
Does it dry up

like a raisin in the sun?

Or fester like a sore--

And then run?

Does it stink like rotten meat?

Or crust and sugar over--

like a syrupy sweet?

Maybe it just sags

like a heavy load.
Or does it explode?

-Langston Hughes

.

a writer's struggle

2007-12-20T18:40:00.000-05:00

A Writer’s Struggle
Portia Briana @2007

Years of pain and heartache have shaped me to write.
A talent I was born with, but has been perfected by life.
Years of stories and thoughts are pent up inside me
wanting to come out,
waiting,
but I don’t know where to begin.

“Language has not the power to speak what love indicts. The soul lies buried in the ink that writes.”
“The greatest agony is bearing an unwritten story inside of you.”

I could choose expression from quotes
… others’ words…
to begin,
but am I not confident in my own ability to captivate?
Or am I afraid of how I’ll be received?

Tears.

I can do this; I know.
I can open my soul,
allow others to feel what I feel,
to feel what I’ve felt.

But what would they do with my emotions?
Would they treat my heartaches as gently as I have?
Or would they cast my joys aside in disgust or carelessness?

Don’t hurt me.

I can show you what I’m made of.
I can show you what’s inside.
My words will command your respect.
I will captivate you.

I’m not afraid.
I’m a writer.