I Read Somewhere The Other Day How Would You Describe Your Current Season In Life? Heres My Answer:

I read somewhere the other day “how would you describe your current season in life?” here’s my answer:

I think I would say winter. But not the cold peak winter. It’s like, you’ve been through the harsh, painful winter storms, but you aren’t completely out of it. Spring is coming soon, but you still aren’t sure when. I’ve walked through the ice and rain; I endured it. I lost my warm coat on the way. I could’ve made it out in a better condition, but I made it out. It’s the last stretch of winter. A few light drizzles and heavy rains come at me, but I know spring is near. I've almost made it, and that’s all that matters.

i've gotten so used to it,

living with that buzz in my brain.

the background noise

telling me to move,

do something

it whispers of incomplete tasks and

people lost along the way

i've gotten so used to it though,

that it merely adds

a touch of weight to my shoulders,

disappearing when my mother pulls them back, correcting my posture.

the sound is all but gone

when i'm with my friends,

shouting out the lyrics

of the songs that shaped our childhood,

looking out of the car window

as the glowing lights flash past.

red, white, warm yellow.

the sound is gone

until i'm alone again.

but, still, it's nothing more than a buzz

one i ignore,

telling myself i'm fine.

the new year's given me that:

the ability to believe I'm fine, truly.

i've been walking at the edge of the waves

positivity, optimism, gratitude.

i repeat these, louder than the buzz,

but the waves gently lick at my feet,

threatening to wreck all I've built

the sandcastle standing precariously

on foundations of a new year and hopeful words.

i'm scared of my poetry now.

words i pulled out of my chest

by piercing my heart with thorns and needles

until they spilled out,

red and raw.

but i've decided to do it anyway.

pick up the pen

and momentarily

invite the buzz into the foreground.

dig holes that welcome the sea in streams

into the moat around my sandcastle.

it's a new year

so i've decided to trust myself.

trust that i can control the stream.

trust that my words won't drown me

and if they do—

trust that i can get back up to the surface.

:')

Things I should be doing

• so many

Things I am doing

• None of the so many things

“We accept the love we think we deserve.”

— Stephen Chbosky, The Perks of Being a Wallflower.

hobbies: being asleep, getting ready to go to sleep, going to sleep, getting into my bed, waking up and realizing i can go back to sleep, sleeping, being in my bed (asleep), falling asleep,

Time

I’ve never trusted time.

It creeps past me

Like shadows on a summer’s

Afternoon, it laughs at me

From clock faces, teases me

From calendars, lies to me

In memories. It always seems so

Plentiful but it hides when needed,

Laughing behind its hand.

And then with a casual flickering cruelty

It changes everything I love into

Sepia memories, faded photographs

In crackling albums, lonely moments

In crowded places. I don’t trust time.

It seems like we all have plenty of it

But it’s never enough.

Doug