chickplea

Latest Posts by chickplea

Societal Norm

I've spent most of my life trying to fit into the 'societal norm'. Gods is it awful. Say this, do this, dress to impress..

Don't curse, please watch what you eat, black is the devil's color..

Get down on your knees and pray to Jesus when all is going wrong, you need to find a man to marry before you spread your legs, sundresses and bright colors..

I'll get down on my knees to pleasure who I wish, it will be sinful. I sleep with who I wish and it will not only be men. If my graphic black shirts offend, well good for me.

I do not believe in your 'God'. I am one of those gays you despise.

Guess what??

I do not exist to please anyone but myself.

I'm doing a damn good job of it too.

Kindly avert your attention elsewhere, while I do whatever I want.

I rightly don't give a single fuck about your comfort.

I don't feel like ME anymore. If there ever was such a thing to begin with..

Dreaming of being a better human.

Can I tell you a secret?

I dream about a different life. One without children and without a husband. I dream of living alone. Having a small studio apartment. A decent job. Ultimately relying on me myself and I for everything. A few good friends I could meet on the weekends. Just living my life for me and me alone.

Let me be a moth with soft papery wings.

The moon my muse, in the witching hours.

Only the strange can see my beauty.

When I have no ideas for putting together the thoughts that need to read aloud by others, I like to pretend that it is not my time yet for my words, thoughts, feelings to be put out in the world. Please, give me a sign when it is my time to emerge from my subconscious once again. These thoughts are slowly drowning me and must be set free.

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I don't want to die today.

I'm usually contemplating my life, or lack of, through these hours.

Living is difficult most days.

Then you happened along, and reminded me there are still things to live for.

Your positivity is contagious.

I have a new disorder within me now, that illuminates the darkest parts of my mind.

The sunrise is beautiful again every morning.

Uneasiness that sends moths down my throat, have turned to butterflies.

I adore you.

I need to see the universe through your eyes, just once.

So I will have something to hold onto when the moon is high at night, and the darkness attempts to seduce me.

platonic signs of devotion

I am hopelessly in love with you, but platonically. I want to hear from you every time something small happens throughout the day. I want to know when you think of me. I want to hold your hand and walk through a field of lavender. I want to hug you so tight, you will feel it for years. I want to cry on your shoulder and you wipe my tears away laughing that I could have drown you. I want to draw you so I can remember the curve of your cheek and how your eyes try to hide when you smile. i want to let you know that I have fallen in love with myself, because you have shown me that it is perfectly acceptable to be broken and still amazing. We are only humans in this impossibly large universe together and I will be thankful every hour of having met you.

You don't know this yet. You are my sunshine.

The smile I can feel from a whole country away, well it takes the breath out of me. You are beauty in the rawest form. Your eyes hold the earth, the soil and grass. I could get lost in them and not worry if I need to be found. I feel warmth getting to bask in your light. Your voice melts all the sorrows.

I am not one for words and ideas of affection, but when I feel the sun radiating everyday, you must be made aware.

I read this quote once that said something along the lines of, "If we want the rewards of being loved we have to submit to the mortifying ideal of being known".

Of the thousands of quotes I have saved across varying platforms of social medias, this quote has lived in my subconscious more than the rest.

We as humans have to have social interaction and through our interactions we search for love. Our greatest fear as a species is being alone and within that being lonely.

To not end up alone though, we have to put ourselves out there and open up and let people get the chance to know us. Opening up to let people see our true selves is possibly the most terrifying thing for a person to do. Here let me show you my demons and the things I struggle with on the daily and please, dear god love me for it?

How are we supposed to open up and let people see our inner desires and not have them run screaming because what they have seen doesn't line up with their struggles or beliefs?

Here are my demons, love me anyway.

Do you realize how difficult it is for me to put myself first? I have lived in the shadow of everyone I have ever been with. I have made myself smaller trying to fit in and be everything that they need, always. 

Now, is the time for me. It took me thirty years to finally acknowledge this. I will lose people in doing so. I will have to put my own feelings ahead of everyone else. 

Honestly, I don’t even know where to begin. How do I learn to not care about how I make everyone else feel? How do I do what I need to do to heal and become this better version of me? How do I even be me?

Who am I, really?  

I mourn for all the women that were misunderstood in the past. The women who wanted to live their lives without the restraint of man telling them how they should live. Women who were burned alive for no reason other than they were born the wrong gender. Women who spoke their minds and were persecuted because their beliefs were different.

I will mourn for all the women who live after me. Women in the future will face the same things we have been experiencing for thousands of years. I have never considered myself a ‘feminist’. After years and years though, you’d think that something would change. If it hasn’t changed yet…why would anything ever be any different?

I despise myself. The way I live, or rather a state of surviving until the next sunrise. I despise the way I let others speak to me. The way I choose to live. I have no will to change it though. I will disassociate my days away.

I want to be one of those normal people.

I know what you’re thinking, ‘there’s no such thing as normal.’

There are people out there though, that don’t hesitate to walk out the door to go to a store. There are people that don’t fantasize about death. There are people who don’t have trauma or flashbacks and nightmares about what others have done to them.

I want to be one of those people that wasn’t diagnosed with a major depressive disorder at 17.

I want to be one of those people that didn’t have to try several medications just for them all to fail.

I want to be one of those people that doesn’t have an anxiety disorder, and has a hard time just leaving the house.

I want to be one of those people that didn’t have to go to a therapist, just to add PTSD to the list of mental disorders.

I want to feel like a person again, instead of a number of things wrong with me, that affect my day to day life.

Please. Just let me be..

Love. A tiny little word, with an infinite amount of meanings. Good morning: I love you. How are you: I love you. I hope you have a great day: I love you. I see you are hurting: I love you. I thought this was funny, I need to show you: I love you. This reminded me of you: I love you. Love is in everything I say to you, when I can’t write: I love you.

One day One…day… That day will come. What ever that one day means to you. Whether it be the day you choose to stay, Or the day you choose to leave. The day you choose them, Or the day you choose yourself. The day that scares you the most, Or the day you choose to be brave. There’s always that one day. I hope it finds you when you need it most.

I will love you quietly. In my way. You are in my thoughts, and songs, and poetry. You are in my dreams night and day.

I was not looking for love when you came along. I learned to live with mediocrity. I knew how my life would turn out. I had made peace with this. Everything was not quite how I had imagined, but it was good. Not great; who gets greatness these hard days anyway? You came along and reminded me of the great in this world. You made me want to live again. We found something between us that we didn’t know we needed.

What are you most afraid of?

There’s always those phobias of snakes, spiders and bodies of water . Those are pretty rational. I know way too many people that are scared of those. Spiders are creepy with all their legs. Snakes are venomous. People drown everyday in lakes and oceans.

My fears are the feelings. Being helpless. Not being able to express my emotions the right way, or worse, expressing them and not having someone feel the same way. The fear of being lonely for the rest of my life.

I am helpless in a lot of ways. I make myself small in my own life and don’t express the emotions I need to, every day. I am alone and very lonely.

I’m afraid that I will live my entire life, not being true to myself. Having to live and not be who I really am. I’ve been doing it for almost thirty one years now. As a child, I lived to please my parents. As a young adult, I lived to please my friends. Now, an actual adult, I live to please my husband.

I am afraid that if I truly show everyone who I am, they will run away. Or, maybe I am the one who needs to run away. But the fear of leaving is too powerful.

Everyone has fears, that’s just human nature. Maybe what I am afraid of is just being human.

I am afraid of myself.

I think you knew what you were doing this whole time. I hope I don’t get hurt in the end.

The wanting is killing you, darling. The longing is keeping you from sleep. The way your chest aches is like a stone at the bottom of a lake.

I’m in love with the stars. With the moon. They make appearances in my writing more often than they should. There’s something so romantic about looking into the night sky. I suppose I am a romantic at heart, who knew?

I speak with the moon, most nights.

I tell him my secrets and dreams.

He listens intently at all I have to say.

People may say I’m crazy, but I have the stars that witness my madness.

I believe in the moon more than any person. He doesn’t judge me for what I have to say.

If I listen closely, he speaks back to me.

He tells me of his darkness, and how no one truly sees him without the sun.

He holds a special place in my heart.

For I am also unseen in my darkness.

I believe in magic.

Not like the magic in fairytales, full of dragons and spells.

I believe in the magic of those small moments.

I believe in the magic of a dandelion growing in the crack of asphalt.

The moment between your inhale and my exhale.

Finding a constellation in the sea of millions of stars.

The way your eyes light up like a stormy sky.

The dew on the early morning grass.

Magic is what makes this world go ‘round.

I’m so thankful to be a part of these small magical moments.

I remember the day I bought two yellow roses.

I went to your grave and placed the roses atop your gravestone. I sat beside you and talked about a few memories we had shared. I cried tears of joy because I knew you weren’t in pain anymore. The tears turned to sadness though. I asked to you please take care of the child I never got to meet. I think I may have said something about heaven. That’s where everyone believed you had went. You said you saw angels a few days before you passed on. I would never speak ill about you, but I think that’s delusional. I truly hope you are somewhere better though, holding hands and teaching my baby to fish. I see you in every cardinal that flies by me.

I’m far too cynical to believe in heaven; I would like to see again someday though.

I don’t think about it often. Usually just on two dates in the year. But sometimes out of nowhere it punches me in the chest.

It has been nine years since I’ve lost you. I won’t ever get to know who you may have been. I don’t talk about you, I’m not sure how to.

This grief will never end.

I will always apologize for my existence.

To be alive is in this world, in this humanness, is quite exhausting.

I am convinced I am wrong to be here as this; this living being, this whole person who has thoughts that can be spoken aloud.

I was meant to be something living, but quiet.

Something that has a voice, but no words that can be spoken.

I suppose, like a breeze that just whispers past.

A breath of wind that is craved on a warm day, but dreary in the winter.

I am meant to be a part of this world but not like this.

When I die,

Bury me in the forest.

There will be no need for visiting me.

I have found home with the foliage.

The shame of living will disappear as my body becomes the earth.

I whisper my secrets out into the universe.

The stars twinkle with laughter.

They share my joy and watch while this new adventure begins.

I want to know, but I will not ask.