Personal Experiences

Irreplaceable.

You know those old Christmas lights? When one bulb in the string of lights burns out, the rest of them stop lighting up as well. One would have to search through the entire string of lights just to find the dead one. When that one is replaced, the rest would shine once again…. But oftentimes, it isn’t quite the same. If the lights were colored, the old, red one might be replaced by a blue one, disrupting the entire pattern. And even if it’s not that drastically different, more often than not, the new light sticks out, even if it’s subtle; the color may be a slightly different shade than the others, or the bulb may shine brighter or duller than its friends.

You see, life is similar in that way. Most things are not entirely replaceable. And oftentimes it is way more heartbreaking than a broken Christmas light.

A fifteen year old girl can die suddenly. The world keeps spinning and the vast, vast majority of people on Earth continue with their lives, oblivious to the devastation happening in the relatively small string of people whose lives were touched by the young girl. But to them, especially the ones closest to her, it can feel like an earthquake. A hurricane. A tsunami. To them, it is Earth-shattering and life-changing. To them? Well, their lives may never be the exact same again, because when that little girl left this world, she took a piece of the heart of everyone who cared about her… Some pieces bigger than others. And in her place is a dark spot, one that makes everyone in her orbit feel like they can no longer light up, either.

Friendship, Insecurities, Poems

The Best Are Harder To Find

A box in the rain, on a field outside
Sat wet and gloomy in the bitter cold.
I saw this box, sitting there like it died
Years ago. So I opened it– Behold!
An oyster, so old and… a chunk of gold!
Tossed the shell aside and took the jewel
Everywhere I went. And the stone controlled
What I did, how I lived; I was its mule.
But I threw that pyrite straight at the wall,
And took out the old clam shell I had found.
In it was a beautiful pearl, so small;
It comforted meβ€” healed, saved from that mound.
Toxicity’s out in packages bright,
While the best may be hidden out of sight.

with tm friends
Some of my best friends and I at TM camp
Chronic Illness, Disability, Insecurities, Poems, Transverse Myelitis

Pieces

01/28/2017– I always hated the last stanza of this poem. Kinda awkward. I finally changed it. Still not perfect, but a lot better, in my opinion. πŸ™‚

I’m dedicating this poem to one of my best friends, Sarah Todd πŸ™‚ She’s been through a lot the last (almost) 6 years of her life, but has found new passions to replace the holes left by the old things she can no longer do. ST has found a way to pick up the pieces and put herself back together; I admire that a lot!! ❀

 

Pieces, broken cov’ring the floor;
A trail of me lead to the door.
I couldn’t keep together, me;
When a wave hitβ€” disparity.

Nobody knew, because my face
Was happy, smiling, full of grace.
But inside of me was a sea
Of anger, of sadness, not glee.

Was drowning in that water that
Consumed me; chased me like a cat
After a mouse. No one could see
The storm, the war inside of me.

So pieces, on the floor they lie;
Could leave them there to petrify.
Or I could pick them up, maybe,
And show the world I can be free.