Random, Relationships

Musings, Part Whatever

This is going to turn back into a more than poetry blog. I forgot that it was therapeutic to release my thoughts here.

I deleted my Twitter app today. Not my account. Just the app. I was suddenly hit with and disgusted by the facade.

Don’t get me wrong. I enjoy Twitter. I’m off and on it and this during this last round (which was longer than most), I connected with many other poets. It was fun to bounce of the minds of others and be critiqued on my work.

But, much like most else, it’s not real.

I’ve realized that I go there in my low points. When I’m depressed and I want to distract myself. The thing that most love about Twitter is its anonymity. You can be whatever, say whatever, call yourself whatever. There’s so much PORN! It got to a point, where just about everyday, I ended up on the page of a new follower and immediately was like, woops!

There are great people there. There are a few folks I even consider friends. To what extent, though? I was talking with one of these friends. He had tweeted awhile back about having a Twitter party so we could all meet each other. I remember telling him that we should really do it. I brought it back up to him today. Really, I just wanted him to know that it would be cool to meet him. We’d become friends. He’d gotten me to open up. He said something very noncommittal and I was suddenly over it all. Not over him… He’s a good person, which just makes me more sad.

I’ve become friend, therapist, and inspiration to people. Even an instigator. At the end of the day, it doesn’t mean anything does it? So, why do we spend so much time on an app that ultimately gives us nothing? It’s a forum to let out the things we wouldn’t share on Facebook or in suitable, adult conversation. It’s where we can be more us. It’s where we can let our degenerate out. It’s the place where we know we’re all a little fucked up and it’s ok.

I can’t live there anymore.

I’ve been hurting. Deeply. Was it another asshat I went out with? Of course! You guys know that I love and I love hard. It hurts to lose a love interest, a friend, anyone really… Told myself I wouldn’t fall apart, but I did. At least, though, I told this one about himself. Why shouldn’t he know, even though he went back to his ex? Why shouldn’t he know that I saw what he would do before he did because I understood his feelings when he didn’t? Why shouldn’t he know that, for once, I thought someone chose me first, and it turned out, in the end… that he was never fully present, that he was always going to go back, whether it was me or some other girl? I just wish it was some other girl… Why should I carry the burden alone. He should know what he did. People need to understand the impact they have, the damage they do, whether they stick around for awhile or breeze in and out of your life like a gust of wind.

So, it’s probably time to stop wallowing. Get back to me. To reality. To life. To stop taking solace in an imaginary world full of real people I can’t ever know.


Joker/Life Updates

Last we see each other
Was the last I saw your face

That night…
I both cherish and hate it
I had you again
I lost you again
Just as quickly
Because you were never meant to be mine

I am your friend
Your silent lover
Your forever secret
I am the background
Watching and caring for you
While you live in the foreground
With someone else

She does not know
She never will know
You will not tell her

Finally, you have admitted love
It was all I needed
To realize I do not want it

You are comfortable
Now I see, also cowardly

I was distraught
Now I see, decadent

Last we saw each other
Was the last I saw your face
You paint your face for the world
You pretend it is your real face
But, I know who you are
I’ve always seen you

Will she?
Will you?

I thank everyone who has continued to follow me through this last year where I’ve been nearly out of my mind. Not just my close friends, but the ones in my WP family who have become dear (I love you, Ruth!). This poem represents a couple days of epiphanies. I have always struggled to know my own self-worth, my own goodness. To know that I am deserving of proper treatment and respect. This weekend a man that I loved (and admittedly still love) finally told me, after 2.5 years that he loved me back. His girlfriend of now almost two years was standing about 5 feet away… It was the one thing I had wanted to hear from him. Over the course of the next couple days, though, I realized… that it was not the kind of love I wanted. He keeps me a secret from her because he’s afraid of losing her. He’s afraid of losing me, so he strings me along. He keeps me a secret from everyone. Even if he does truly love me, is that really the kind of love that I want? No. And I realize that I’ve subjected myself to this over and over again. I’ve loved men who have loved me back, but have been too scared of being with me, or too comfortable in relationships that they (obviously) didn’t want to be in to be with me. And I’ve been consistently left alone, while being told how awesome and amazing I am. While being friend zoned. While constantly being told I’m needed, but never feeling wanted. I’m finally done. I’m a few days shy of my 33rd birthday and I realize that I deserve to have people in my life that aren’t afraid to love me – not just men, but friends and family. I deserve people who love me unconditionally, accept me for who I am.

I have two engineering degrees – a rarity for a black woman. I was the first black and the youngest President of the Board of Directors of the Craven Arts Council and Gallery in New Bern, NC (look it up!). I made friends with the mayor there. I am the Commanding Officer of a Star Trek Club and a Starfleet International Captain. I’m in Star Trek fan films and have my own IMDb page (look it up!). There are people that love and care about me and I live a pretty cool life, even if some changes are needed. I’m pretty fucking awesome. I just needed an asshat to tell me he loved me to realize it… Now, I want nothing more to do with him, or any of them.

Love to you all!! I will work on being more frequent again. Challenge me, please, with prompts, etc.

Mental Health, Random

Thoughts, Part 4

Apparently, yesterday’s post concerned more than one person. My bad, ya’ll. I just needed to vent.

In the past, I was never one to share my feelings. I would keep them bottled and let them fester deep until I lost my mind. I believe a lot of people are that way. I’m in my early 30s and I still struggle with sharing out of fear of what people will think or what they will say. Sometimes, I fear hearing the advice that I know I need. Sometimes, it’s lack of trust. Sometimes, it’s because I just don’t feel like talking.

I’m trying to curb that behavior.

I wrote yesterday about some deep feelings. The results of that were 1) I felt better for getting it all of my chest and 2) It helped someone else feeling the same way feel better. Unfortunately, I think it terrified some people. No need for that. We all have bad days, don’t we? Yes, I have people to talk to. Yes, I have a therapist. Yes, I’m on my meds (though I’m carefully weaning myself off of those). But, I won’t even attribute that post to mental health issues. I will attribute it to a couple of shitty things happening at the same time. You know what? That’s ok.

I’m learning to share. I’m loving this community of people that I’m getting to know through poetry, short stories, and even moreso, through their non-fictional stories. Do we question it when someone writes a very dark, concerning poem or story? Usually not. Well, I didn’t feel like putting all of that into the form a poem last night. Just wanted to get it out. I’ll have more bad days. I will share more with you. I’m baring my soul to all of you. It’s therapeutic for me and I’m actually happy to do it. We’re all going through a perpetual healing process because life constantly throws lemons and other bullshit at us.

So, yeah… yesterday was a bad day – the culmination of things on my mind. They aren’t on my mind anymore and I thank you for reading, listening, and caring. Lauren is good.


Thoughts, Part 3

Perhaps if I get it all out in writing, I’ll feel better. It won’t all be in my head. So, here goes my rambling. If you read it, you’re a trooper and I love you.

I feel ugly. I cut off all my hair. Decided to go natural. Everyone loves it. I love it because I don’t have to mess with my hair in the morning. But, I’m still getting used to it and don’t always feel like myself. I’m fat. In high school, I hovered around 185 pounds. I was made fun of for my weight thoughtout all my school days. In college, I got down to 155 pounds. Then, I began to work. Take antidepressants. Take birth control. Blew up. At my largest, I was 285 pounds. I stopped taking birth control and antidepressants. Got braces. Determined I was going to lose all the weight and managed to lose 93 pounds. I wasn’t quite at my goal, but I felt great. But, my depression and anxiety started to flare up again. Back on antidepressants I went. I’ve gained almost 40 pounds back. I feel gross. I feel disgusting. I feel unattractive.

I feel worthless. I wish the majority of people I know didn’t end up hurting me. I really liked a guy. He really likes me. He has a girlfriend. So, why tell me he’s into me? I told him we shouldn’t have anymore inappropriate conversation because I genuinely liked him. He hasn’t spoken to me since. We’ve been friends for years. But, now that I think about it… have we? I’ve always been the one to care, to check on him, to make sure he was ok, to love him as a friend for who he was. Now, we’re not friends because I’ve realized he’s a piece of shit. Another son of a bitch that wanted a side piece. Not me. I’m tired of that life. I’m tired of being used. I deserve more than that. But, I can’t help but feel like I’m not worth any man’s time.

I feel tired. I’ve been lethargic in a way that I’ve never been before. I can’t even get out of bed in the morning. I started weaning myself off of antidepressants and surprisingly, I feel better. Why do we take meds to feel better when ultimately we just become accustomed to them? The doctors just say increase your dosage, try something different. Well, I’m sick of doing that. I’d rather just not take them.

I feel a myriad of other things that I cannot put into words. I’m not sure where I’m going or what I’m doing. I feel like a shadow of myself. I used to smile more. I used to enjoy life more. I had more energy. Today, I feel like I’m just bouncing on the wind, going wherever it takes me, but not caring where I end up.

Random, Relationships


I’ve discussed before the inherent nature in some of us to want to fix people. Do I let broken people into my life because I myself am broken? Do I believe that if I fix everyone else that I will somehow, vicariously, fix myself? Inevitably, though, what happens is we help, people leave, and we get hurt. People are toxic when they’re broken and they don’t know themselves. This includes us when we don’t know ourselves. So, they will walk all over you and hurt you and run.

I’m watching myself let this happen to me again…


I suppose it’s progress that I’m recognizing it and nipping it at the beginning. But, you know… It still hurts.

I feel cheap and alone.



Did your heart ever tell you that something was not quite over, that it would eventually be infinitely better, no matter how bleak and dim it seems?

Or is it that nieve, wishful thinking? Another case of not letting go?


Summer/At The Bar, Part 2

Bartender: Summer?

Me: *instinctively looks up*

Patron: Yes

…and I realize he’s talking about a summer ale, asking the guy if that’s what he fancies to drink…

…and I’m missing my old nickname, gifted me before birth, permanently tattooed on my back, but rarely heard by my ears.

For the first time, I will let you all see me.

Random, Uncategorized


I find myself missing group therapy. There’s some irony in this because even though i voluntarily went, I was agitated for the first few sessions, not wanting to listen to how everyone’s weekend was. As time went on, I began to enjoy it, even though sometimes three hours seemed interminable. It added structure to my day, especially when I stopped going to work. It filled some void I did not know I had. By the end of therapy, it felt like I was leaving a little family. It’s amazing how much you can grow to care about strangers after you’ve shared your entire lives with each other, with the prospect that you’ll never see each other again. Yet, somehow, you’re forever bonded by that experience.

Lately, I feel that void creeping back in and I’m trying to fill it with bad decisions. I’ve swapped shopping for drinking. I’m not sure which will help me live longer. I’m back to work, but somehow do not feel that is adding that structure back into my day. It’s not occupying my mind. I bought a new car! Did I need one? No. Did it make me happy? Momentarily. A fleeting happiness. (Actually, I love the car.)

I fear slipping back into bad habits – spending too much money, spending too much time alone, spending too much time trying not to be alone, spending too much time trying to think through everything to make it ideal and then spending too much time overthinking and then spending too much time chastising myself because I can’t just relax and spend time enjoying each and every day. Life is full of moments that I’m letting go by because I’m always thinking and analyzing.

That all being said, I started this blog has a means of self-medication, if you will. As I read through everyone’s stories, again, getting to know strangers and caring about them, I feel like I’m building that little family again. I find that I am excited to read new stories. I’ve swapped playing games on my phone for browsing through the Reader to discover new posts from those I follow and those I don’t. I love getting to know everyone’s authentic self through their articles, poetry, advice, or just plain rants. I can’t wait to get new notifications. I never thought I would become so attached to this. I’m enjoying getting to know each and every one of you. I actually feel bad when too much time has gone in between my posts and I’m not sharing more of me.

words poster
Photo by Kaboompics .com on Pexels.com

I know for some of us, this is a fearful endeavor and you wonder if it’s doing you or anyone any good. I will tell you that it most certainly helps me and it fills some empty spaces, knowing that there are so many out there that think and feel the same way I do on everything from my selection of music to the internal darkness of mental illness. I’m HAPPY that you share yourselves with me and others and I encourage you to continue doing so. I encourage your authenticity and audacity. In being such, you encourage mine. Thanks to all of you.


Side note: It’s amazing how you can go to write a post with a word or thought or two in mind, not really knowing what to say and then five or so paragraphs later… it’s like the words were on my heart and mind all along.

Random, Uncategorized

At the Bar

Wednesday evening at the bar. I had to check to make sure it was Wednesday. The days blur lately.

I’m having boneless wings in the restaurant’s special sauce. I’ve had them before. I didn’t feel like being brave today.

Tullamore and ginger beer. I have to ask for lime. Whiskey is my drink of choice, in general, but also for contemplation. The bartender has finally remembered not to fill my glass with ice.

To my right are two women exploring a jewelry catalog. One is speaking about how the jewelry can tell a story as though it is a spiritual journey. Their intense small talk about nothing makes me twitch. I wonder what, if anything, is really important to them.

The man who was sitting to my left has just left. I did not see him depart. His empty beer bottle, the condensation from it, and the signature on a soon lost piece of paper are the evidence that he was here. He was complaining about the rain. I think to myself, “It’s Florida…. Maybe get over it.”

The women have received their food. It grows cold as they are engrossed in their shopping venture. They are complaining about an acquaintance that’s super loud. I want to tell them they are annoying and they’ve killed the ambience with their unsubstantial bullshit.

“Is anyone sitting here, ma’am?” There is now a new couple to my left. He takes beer. She takes wine. Typical. They couldn’t hang with me. I look at their faces and I wouldn’t expect them to be together. They’re discussing the price of lobster rolls and whether or not they are hungry. It would seem they’ve come to the wrong place.

I’ve just realised I’m the only black person at the bar. That’s not a bad thing. In fact, I’m used to it in the South. Only an observation that only people like me tend to observe.

I am wishing someone I cared about was sitting next to me. I am wishing I would not walk back home in the rain alone. I long for the warmth of more than whiskey. I am longing for the warmth of your hand.


Awake, Part 7

I am thinking of you, in my sleepless solitude tonight.

Awake again. I’m beginning to associate lack of sleep with normalcy. But, at least, I’m being productive.

I drank too much wine and the brain fog is settling in. But, at least I enjoyed it.

My Fitbit says my heart rate is 102. I don’t know if it’s the wine, the position I’m in, or anxiety about yet another day back to work. But, it’s Fat Burn zone, so maybe I’ll shed some pounds in my state of confusion.

I’ve discovered new pastimes for sleepless nights. One is writing my thoughts for others to read. The other is reading the thoughts others write. In some strange way, I feel bonded to everyone else who is awake right now, either because sleep is evasive or because it’s daytime in their time zone. But, strange though it is, it is also somewhat gratifying to feel like part of an unknown something.

I am thinking of you. I have been all day. You showed up in my dreams during the little sleep I did get. Now, I do not know if being awake is a blessing. But, it was good to see your face.