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Dying is stupid


The doctor puts you on a clock. The people in your life start the countdown.
The plans begin.

Feeling a somber responsibility to keep your chin up so as to not bring theirs down.
Go out and do normal healthy things 
You were able to do just last year.
Celebrate life.
Energy to fake it slowly runs out.
Plans get cancelled again and again.
Bad Health Days.
I'm not going out of the house looking like this Weeks.
Wishing for visitors.
Puzzle building partners.
Couch surfers.
You start looking for the time machine.
Dial it back to the day you first thought smoking was alright.
That one puff wouldn't hurt.
Nor a carton. Or two decades worth.
Throw out the pack.
Take up jogging.
Except it's today and tomorrow is one day closer.
To that last wheezey breathe.
And you kick yourself.
While waiting in bed alone.

For the people have long finished their mourning.
As they let you go fifty million heartbeats too soon.
Sep 16, 2016 @ 08:56 am

14 Replies



Wow, what an incredibly moving piece....
Sep 16, 2016 @ 10:12 am


I had to read this over and over again. Such incredible, raw emotion in the poetry you've created. I hope it's not a reflection of what you're personally going through but if it is, I hope my virtual hugs and prayers that I am sending your way can give you some comfort in your time of need. This really brought me to tears. No one should have to feel this lonely when facing such a struggle. I really hope you know you're very valued here in our community and I would be very saddened to know you would be hurting this way.

Sep 16, 2016 @ 10:35 am

thank you

Thank you ladies. It's been a rough health week... Today especially. Yes, this is all me - and I really appreciate the hugs and nice words. Being here on CA is what gives me energy and the excitement needed to be able to keep up the high spirits throughout my social media world.. Today though, I'm just tired... Being alone through this is usually easier to manage. I pushed away most with all the cancellations, so that's all on me. Sorry it hurt you.. I guess it was wrong of me to post it.. Just needed to vent and it's been said a few times throughout the Community there are a lot of us on here that are sick in one way or many others.. I'm one of the lucky ones that is able to click the 'many others' column. Anyway.. didn't even really know what was coming out til I was ready to hit the submit button.. sorry
Sep 16, 2016 @ 11:35 am


You don't need to apologize one bit! What you wrote was honest and beautiful. It came from the heart and you don't need to feel like you did something wrong by posting it. I was just very moved by your words. It puts life into perspective and makes you appreciate the time we have on this earth.

I also wanted to tell you that you are a great writer. I used to study poetry in college and university and it's been a while since I've written any or even read some in this style. You should consider writing more, especially in those times you feel alone or need to reflect. Don't forget to also focus on the good things you have going for you. Writing can help you do that! I would really be interested in reading more of your work if you'd like to post it. <3

Sep 16, 2016 @ 11:46 am


super emotional
Sep 16, 2016 @ 12:20 pm


Thank you so much.. <3 Now I'm lost for words
Sep 16, 2016 @ 12:27 pm


Thank you for sharing this! I'm sorry you're having a tough time. Do you write poetry often? You're very good!

Sending you hugs <3
Sep 16, 2016 @ 02:24 pm

long story..

One night, around the age of seven, a small Penguin paperback was found in an old musty box. It was filled with words that made me feel not so alone in the world. The book taught me a safe way to write my aching story so that only I could decipher. It was like a secret language was found that night - the best part: my story could be written without punctuation, without rules, without punishment.
I fell in love.
Not that I knew it was poetry, at the time, mind you. Needless to say, I was blessed with a poetic start to the world...and my only release was to write stories about the beauty of life - nature and death, mostly.
Thanks to PTSD (which, obviously nobody knew I had at that point) my attention span was never long enough to make it past one page though haha. So, the words written were generally short and sweet.

By time I finally quit school in the first semester of grade eight, I had written well over 200 poems. Back story: That was my ninth school, all in one 60-kilometer radius, all in the same province. Always the new kid. Always the "teacher's pet". Always the hairiest girl. Always the victim.
Then, I started bouncing around the country on my own. Constantly getting myself tangled up in some new hurt. It goes without saying that I simply wasn't properly socialized. Gypsy, they called me - they, being blood relations. Like it was a joke.
My poems traveled the country with me. They were written under the stars, above the clouds, once in a fresh grave, on sidewalks, in the Arctic Circle, somewhere in the middle of the Prairies, in hospital beds...everywhere.
A couple hundred more were added to the mix. All written on paper, post-its, napkins, cardboard... Hard copies, they were.
In 2010, my binders full of poems and short stories were lovingly packed into a suitcase and put on a bus headed home. I had to hitchhike because I could only afford a ticket for my bag or a ticket for me. My life "work" was more important than me - so it got the special treatment. Fast forward 6,000kms - it took me too long to hitch all the way home. By time I went to pick them up, the company had sent them back to their depot.
By time I got a human at their depot - my bag was already sent to their Texas warehouse.
Finally, nearly an entire year later, I tracked down the actual warehouse phone number and was able to call. You must remember, I had no fixed address this entire time. The lady on the phone was so friendly and she searched all over her work, but just couldn't find it. Even though she did find it was logged into the system.
So she had hope.
A few days later, she called me, in tears.
The contents of the storage container that she happily tracked down, where my bag had been, was auctioned off just the day before.
We shared tears. I went into a deep mourning period and never wrote again.
Til I started writing these product reviews... The piece that fell out of me earlier is the first since 2010...
Your words or encouragement and compliments mean the world to me. I'm not sure if more will come, but if it happens - you ladies will be the first to know.
With all my soul: Thank you.
Much Love
Sep 17, 2016 @ 01:49 am

on Sep 17 2016 @6:37 A.M.

You're a great writer HappyEastCoaster so sorry you're not feeling well thanks for sharing your great beautiful poetry sending lots of Hugs Your Way
Sep 17, 2016 @ 06:39 am


thank you for sharing...im so sorry you are going through this ....never say sorry ...big big hugs...
Sep 17, 2016 @ 09:08 pm

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