Organizing My Poetry – Update on The Fog

I didn’t think this was going to be so difficult. I thought I knew exactly where I wanted every poem to be. But after reading and rereading my poetry I’m not sure anymore. I’m over thinking it, no surprise there. But this is my first collection and I want it to be perfect. I don’t know what story I want to tell or how to start or finish it. I just have a theme. Depression, how it feels, how I deal, and how I try to explain it.

I was thinking about starting from childhood. Poetry about the strong little girl I use to be and how I miss her. But I haven’t written poetry about that nor do I know how. It might come to me after some deep thinking and research. I might have to ask my parents about who I use to be. I was thinking of following that with my rape and how that may have been the beginning of my depression. I feel like I was forced to grow up pretty fast and my childhood hasn’t been the same since it happened. I felt like I couldn’t tell anyone and it just kept happening and I kept thinking about it. Then I stopped thinking about it. Trying to ignore it. Trying to erase it from my memories forever. It worked for a while. Until it happened again when I got older. And again with someone I thought could trust.

I feel like I was forced to grow up pretty fast and my childhood hasn’t been the same since it happened. I felt like I couldn’t tell anyone and it just kept happening and I kept thinking about it. Then I stopped thinking about it. Trying to ignore it. Trying to erase it from my memories forever. It worked for a while. Until it happened again when I got older. And again with someone I thought could trust.

Then maybe I’ll follow that with the little girl I use to be, imprisoned in the fog. And how I didn’t try to set her free. Because sometimes I feel like I didn’t try hard enough to free myself before it got bad. I feel like I did this to myself. If I had just talked to my parents instead of letting it brew in my head and heard for so long. I would be more successful. Right? I’ll never really know of course.

I think I like this direction. And all I needed was to type it out. I guess now I should write another 15-30 small noticings and try to build poems from those.

Stay tuned for more updates on The Fog!


The Fog Sleeps

I appreciate the days without the fog distorting the beauty of the world. I’m always worrying when it’ll come back though. I try not to. But it hangs in the back of my thoughts. I keep it in a small locked box. Sometimes the fog opens it but on these days I’m strong enough to keep locking it and return to my day. I enjoy this strength. This happiness. This beauty. I wish I can keep it going forever. But the fog is only sleeping. It needs its breaks too. This is a constant battle after all.

The trees are a bit greener. The birds sing more beautifully. The sun seeps into my skin and I glow. I smile for real this time. My laugh robust. I share this happiness with others. I walk with purpose. Head high with confidence.

It feels good. I feel good. I will cherish this moment all day.

Lost in Darkness

sometimes i feel like

a little girl who

lost her parents and

is now alone in

the dark with no

one to hold her

i put the blame on myself

i always kept my feelings to myself

i should have told you how i really felt

i put the blame on myself

i lost myself in the dark

i put the blame on myself

now i have to feel

around for your hand to

hold and yell at you

to tell you how this

darkness feels in my head

but please don’t

ask questions


ask why

just try to


this darkness


Distant Fragments

I know very well

that you meant well

but still your words

hurt like hell

tears fell

in my distant realm

I know very well

you meant well

but still your actions

caused a reaction

that echoed

in my distant realm

I’m stunned

I don’t know what to think about you now I don’t know how to explain to you how did I believe in you all these years and not see that you are not who I thought you were

I’m stunned

the idea of you fragmented in my

distant realm I frantically try to

piece it back together they

are too small there

are too many

I am


now i

feel were

worlds apart


via Daily Prompt: Distant


I’m at a loss

I feel lost

I feel embossed

In my own mind

I feel tossed

Aside left to frost

Inside out
How can I

get across

Run across

Jump across

This abyss?
left alone

with my own


I’m prone

To wonder…
Will I even be missed?
In this abyss

All I can do

Is dismiss 

the myths

This isn’t bliss 

You think I enjoy this?

The Fog – A Poetry Collection

I took a class on Skillshare on how to write poetry and it was very inspiring. So much so that every time I rewatch it, a poem flows from my fingers like water. They come so naturally now I really don’t have to think that hard. I was originally going to write a collection of poetry about finding purpose in my life for my project. But what flowed out of me was poetry about my depression. How it feels and how I try to explain it.

I bought small journal specifically to plan out my book of poems with the notes I took from that Skillshare class. I think this the first time I bought a journal and started using it with a purpose from day one. That’s an achievement. I’m addicted to buying journals. I see a beautiful journal and I have to have it. Anyway, the class told me to write down 15 “small noticings” about my topic and what came out kind of surprised me:

  • Some days are easier than others.
  • It feels like I have weights on my limbs.
  • A fog that refuses to let me appreciate the beauty of life.
  • My bed is like a magnet.
  • Very rarely I feel like crying but when I do it’s overwhelming and I try too hard “stay strong.”
  • I’ve gotten so used to pretending I don’t know how to express my real feelings anymore.
  • I may look okay when you see me but most of the time I feel empty inside.
  • My smiles are often fake, my laughter is usually hollow
  • I hear the same advice and I try to follow it but half the time I’m too tired and the fog wins.
  • It’s a mental battle that leaves me physically exhausted.
  • Motivation is hard to hold on to. It’s like a butterfly, beautiful but flutters on leaving you behind.
  • Sometimes I feel like my depression isn’t valid.
  • It steals my energy, my confidence, my motivation. But I will not let it take my creativity or life.
  • It took a long time for me to accept myself and believe that I am beautiful and talented. I still have doubts about my talents.
  • Sometimes my thoughts scare me.

I have never thought very seriously about suicide but the very thought of suicide scares me. I know I would never do it. I’m too scared but sometimes I feel like one day my thoughts will win and I won’t care anymore. That’s actually my biggest fear. My mind running away taking my sanity with it. I’ve even had quite a few nightmares about that. I can’t imagine putting my loved ones through so much stress.

And sometimes I really do feel like my depression isn’t valid. I have a roof over my head, a bed, friends, family and an amazing boyfriend. And there are starving, dying children, veterans sleeping on the streets, families breaking up. I feel so selfish at times. And I want to help everyone but I never know how. I’m so empathetic it might get me in trouble one day.

I’m just shocked at how honest I was in just 5-10 minutes. I don’t want this post to get too long. So I’m going back to learning how to self-publish.


Day in and day out

I feel more and more

inclined to shout

Let me out let me out

I can’t take this anymore
Like a caged bird 

I desire flight

I try and try 

with all my might 

But still my wings 

Don’t sprout
I’m planted here

On this blue sphere

When will I be set free

The moon is where

I desire to be

Writing Workshop Prompts

Another Thursday with The Awesome Women Writing Club! I seriously love hanging out with these women. I got real lucky. I actually found a group of women that don’t bicker about dumb irrelevant things. I found a group of women who are compassionate, intelligent and talented.

Anyway, I had fun with these prompts.

Fence, candle on a cake, a secret agent, alone

Sitting beside the fence confining my backyard, I sit alone. I guess no one got my email invite. Or maybe no one cares. It sucks being a secret agent. I barely get time to spend with my friends and family. On the rare occasion I do, no one is available. I hate being alone on my birthday. It’s hard to plan for things. I get notified the day before and people can’t make plans that fast. I understand though. I had one of those jobs before. I kind of wish I still had one. But this one pays a hell of a lot more and I want my kids to go to college. Oh well, I can’t waste this cake.

I light the candles and place them on the cake. Closed my eyes to make a wish. As soon as I was about to blow I hear a shout. “Cheese!” My eyes snap open and I’m stunned by a flash. As my eyes adjust and my wife staring back at me. And my daughters. And my best friend?

“When did you guys get here?!?”

“Sorry were late, Didn’t you get our email?”

In another galaxy

in another galaxy


what kind of abnormalities

would creatures possess

what kind of nationalities

or even sexualities

do they have any brutalities

against their own kind

what if in actuality

they embrace their spirituality

as commonality

unlike all of humanity

what if their mentality

embraced the formality

of homosexuality

or even bisexuality

unlike all of humanity