So I'm Drunk. Your Point?

your skin was different

not in a bad way, just a different way

it was a mystery i wanted to solve

a complex puzzle of riddles

and i wanted to solve them

good God i wanted to figure out what

made you tick

made you love

what made you hate

what made you breathe

i know what made you fuck

but what made you, you

what about you was so damn hard to let go

what did you do that made me fall so goddamn hard

what about you made me stand by so fucking gracefully

that i was waiting for you to finish with her so youd

finally come home

what about me so impressed you

what made you leave

your skin was so different in every way

your scars were stories yet to be told

and shit, you dont have to even tell me

either way it cant change us

your eyes were just massive

not like in size but intensity

they gaze in my direction and i falter

i fall like a wounded animal

but goddamn it felt good

and youd lay me on the bed and youd lay there too

and wed fuck or wed talk

or both, whichever was fine

and id always wish id chosen this sooner

your hands were massive

and your arms were strong

and you made me feel so bare anyway

so i wanted to give my pain to you and take yours

maybe we can make the load lighter for the both of us

but i woulda taken it all if you asked

I would have taken it if you'd only asked.

i don't even like naked bodies

got too many insecurities

too many sensitivities

i think asses are weird

and thighs are too easily mistaken for what they lead to

and cocks are sent in too many pictures and used in too many rapes

and chests are representative of how much damage a man can do when he's pissed

but fuck, I love yours.

i look at your chest and see a heart

a bleeding one, sure

literal one, sure

but the figurative one is my favorite

because i wanted it so badly

and i could hear the literal one beating

and feel the pulsating as i whispered against your skin

but i wanted the broken one

the one that i knew

the one i could relate to

the one i knew i could fix

if not, then shit

i'll love you enough to fill the holes

given by the bullets shot by your shitty life

because i've got some too and if i can do it for me then i can do it for you

everything with you was drug induced

and i dont even get high

but you, boy

goddamn

shit dude

i dont even wanna feel differently than when im with you

theres no way anyone actually survives that kind of overdose and walks away the same

and this doesnt even make sense, it doesnt really have to

because im drunk, youre sober

and im still angry that you left

and that we was stupid

and that you were a dick

and i was a bitch

and you were the only spot of shade

and then you turned and i had to find a new shadow to hide in

and i hate that i cant hate you for that

and that you wont even make me hate you for that

because itd be so much easier

Fire

youre back with your excuses

we're all victims of our environment but youre not a tree and im not a bird

im supposed to be a human being and so are you

and yet you speak with the whisper of a rain on a hot summer day

and it grows and it grows and you become a torrent of water raining down and flooding me

with your indignation and your self righteousness

and im so busy minding the storm that i dont realize that im changing

i spend so much time closing the windows and preparing for the wreckage that i forget

the monster inside, the monster created by birth and tragic happenings

and i forget what im capable of

and your storms wind whips me up into a fire and feeds me with its oxygen and i burn

you see im normally a smolder

a campfire abandoned by those who are my origin

and i give light and heat to those who tend me

you give water and life to those who surround you

but water and fire never mix do they?

you feed me and feed me

and blame me

theres no need for fire with electricity around but water cannot be replaced

it it werent for you id have burned the worlds to the ground

there you go again, fixing my mistakes

and we argue and argue

stupid conversations that are never solved but then the campfire is left unattended with plenty of wind

from your stupid storm and it spreads and grows and spreads and grows

and fire has to remind you that i created this world for her

and i gave her warmth and i shielded her from the world

and you gave her water necessary for survival but it makes us cold

but the problem with fire and water is that water always wins

water extinguishes fire

and even though you made me what i am

i can never beat you

but water sinks ships and water drowns

and water suffocates fire in such a tragic way

you suffocate me in such a tragic way

with your excuses and indignation

and you put out the fire you created and flood the area

so i cannot burn, i cant keep her warm

i cant protect her from you when you're stupid, stupid water

*SIGH*

Normally, I wouldn't write this. But I tend to heal better when I write things down, so here goes.

I move confidently through everything in life. I get stressed about bills, school, etc., but I know that I'll make it work. I'm a problem-solver, and I do what I need to do. But I do have a sore spot. You guessed it! Parenthood.

"But Brie, everyone has insecurities about being a mom! There's no handbook!"

Yeah, I know. Doesn't help. Let me explain.

My daughter is three years old. She's naughty. Like 'every other three year old' naughty. She screams, she throws things, she hits, and she definitely doesn't do what she's told. She acts up in restaurants, daycare, playgrounds, everywhere. 

I put her in time-out, I scold; I spank her, I yell at her. Every parenting technique I can think of, I try. And none of it works. Why? Don't know. Why is she naughty? Don't know. But I'll tell you what I do know.

Every time I'm upset at my daughter, I'm really upset at myself. I have a very, and I mean VERY loud voice in my head constantly telling me that I'm a bad parent. I don't know what I'm doing. I don't know how to help her or even help me. I don't know how to calm down, how to muster the energy to get off the couch and play with her. I don't know how to keep my house clean. I don't know how to bond with these beautiful children that I co-created!

When I yell 'SKYLAR MAXINE YOU STOP THAT RIGHT NOW!' I'm actually yelling (internally) 'BRIE YOU SUCK AT BEING A MOTHER' or 'YOU KNOW THEY DESERVE BETTER THAN YOU' and it hurts, dude. I fought hard to get custody of my daughter, and spent almost a year fulfilling every obligation set by the state to get her back, and then I spent another six months trying to protect her from outside relatives. So why do I feel like such a failure? 

My husband is a great man. I could not have found a better husband, or a better father. Everyone who meets him genuinely likes him. He's been around since my daughter was a baby, and from the second he moved in with us a few short months later, he's never, NEVER been anything less than the father she never had. He takes care of us, he loves us, and he puts up with my crazy with such a grace, it's a wonder he wasn't already married by the time I got my head on right. And he tries with me, God help him, he tries. He builds me up, he carries me when the depression gets too bad. He loves me in a way that I don't deserve, but I try my best to be worthy of it. So he's not a factor in this feeling at all, and he tries his best to help fix this, but it's not something anyone can fix but me. I just don't know how to do it.

I excel in school. I'm what my friends call 'book smart'. But I'd give it all up to have the relationship with my kids that my friends seem to. They seem to have it all together. They take their kids to the park, and they're so much better behaved than mine. They don't practically go hoarse yelling. They don't go to work solely to get away from their kids because they're so terrified of being home. On a daily schedule, I'm away from my kids from 10:30 AM til about 8:30 PM. At night, I pick them up from the babysitter, take my carpool girl home, and get them home and in bed. I stay up til one or two doing my homework, then the house wakes up around 9:00 AM. First thing we all do is eat breakfast before I get ready for work. But I feel like I don't know my loves, and they're starting to not know me either.

My son is one. When he was born, he had lip-tie, so he could not breastfeed. He had colic til he was five months old or so. He would scream and cry, and I would hold him and rock him and just try to quiet him down so he could sleep. I pumped breastmilk for 30 minutes every three hours to try and give him the best I could, and he would just keep screaming until my husband got home and did everything I had just tried. Then, my son would sleep. Now he's at it again, crying all day and only calming when he's finally asleep.

I'm just lost, is all. I need help. Just don't know how to do this, guys. I want to be a great mother, and I want my children to grow up to be wonderful, beautiful creatures. But I'm terrified, and I've been terrified since day one, that my kids will grow up and think my internal thoughts that they definitely deserved better.

its like i have a necklace

trying to strangle me, but im reckless

always have been

and i tend to forget the place im in

because i can shut down and stare at a wall

and you wont notice til i refuse to talk

but its not even that i refuse

its that i dont hear you

i shut down to protect myself

i dont want the pain
i dont wanna remember the pain
i dont wanna think about the pain
if i just dont think about it, it never happened

sometimes im hit with an image of your face
its contorted, so twisted, so scary with rage
you're standing in front of me and its getting hard to breathe
the chains are around my feet again, saying
'you cant leave me, try as you might
and sweetheart we can keep fighting this fight
and ill bury you so far youll see constant night
but its really just dirt and youll be blind'
and my hair turns to knots along with my stomach
my hands start to sweat though im freezing
and i itch for you to just fight me
just raise your hand to hit me, please
set me off

let me turn into what you think i am
what i think i am
what you all think i am
let my eyes glaze over as i fight for my life
for my rights
let me lose control
invade me
punch me
hitmeslapmesomethin
anything
give me a reason to just
explode

Just my daily rant

the blood is dry
holding the blade up high
as ive finished my masterpiece
just like every single piece
of me is broken off
every day by some jackoff
comment
about something completely idiotic
and you dont realize
that i dont even need to get this kind of high
by myself
when i have someone else
telling me im a slut
even jokingly, dont you know anything
about me?
im just as insecure as the next girl
i know my bodys imperfect
i know im a horrible parent
i know im a whore
you act like the labels dont apply anymore
you forget ive been told this for years
so much so that its tattooed between my ears
seared on my brain, forever in my mind
so when you tell me
what you perceive to be true
i already know it is
i dont need you telling me again.