From me, to you. <3
For the ones that think way too much about growth, love, and grief.
All written by me, Izzy.
For the ones that think way too much about growth, love, and grief.
All written by me, Izzy.
CJB/CFM
I somehow always find a way to bring you up every day,
every conversation,
every moment.
I’d imagine how my life would look if you were still here.
My hair would still be long,
my poems and words would be left unwritten and non-existent,
my room would barely see me, but your passenger seat would see me even more.
I wouldn’t have made the friends I have now,
would’ve never taken those photos,
told those lies,
or thought about another tattoo and piercing.
My life would look totally different.
Less sad.
Do you miss me too?
Do you read my words?
Do you stop yourself from reaching out?
Do you see there being an again?
Because I do,
all the time.
I’ll write again someday.
-Love, Izzy
The James River.
You didn't stop and wait for me,
neither did time,
nor the water.
I hold it in my hands as I watch it slip away too fast.
The water is chilling,
just like the look on your face when you didn't tell me bye.
Forwards, not backwards, is the way it goes.
Sometimes it's fast and rough;
sometimes it's gentle and slow.
Either way, I wish I could swim against the current to what once was,
when the world did feel like it stopped for a little while,
just for us.
untitled. unedited.
no one told me that the guilt and intense sadness would hit me on a random night after an okay day. that it would feel like i couldn't breathe and that id be calling out to God a thousand times over to take it away. no one told me that being with you would make me see myself so clearly. not the good parts that i always strive to be. but the bad parts that i never imagined myself carrying. no one told me that they stain everything i touch. even you. especially you. an ugly stain, i'd say. u saw it all too well. well before i was able to. lately ive started to hate myself. for giving you a reason to leave in the first place. for showing too much of myself bc u made it so easy to. for letting my great fears come true. for letting all of the bad versions of me come between us. i never meant for them to come this far. for you to see them so clearly in the light. it was an accident. you never deserved someone who's constantly trying to survive herself and the devil. the lies that ran me dry. the insecurities that i tried my hardest to bury away until you ripped them up with every step you took. the truth that made me feel less than. and the efforts i tried to take to be perfect for you. only to fail time and time again. im angry. not for you leaving me and moving on. but at me, for realizing too late. i think understanding is the worst part. understanding that you've left me here for reasons i can't argue with. understanding that the only way for you was out. understanding that there was nothing i could do for us to prevent you from walking so far away. understanding that you could only bear so much from me. things you were never responsible for in the first place. how frustrating must that have been for you? understanding that, though, doesn't stop me from hoping with no end. that maybe you'll want to give me another shot. another shot at a conversation, a friendship, a relationship, a future. i hate that we're strangers now. how we went from knowing every detail about each other’s lives to knowing almost nothing at all. i'm afraid of forgetting. forgetting everything i've ever known about you. the way your laugh sounds, the way you move your hands and body when you ramble about your passions, the way you get excited about certain things. i don't think i'll ever delete what we were from my camera roll. if it's the last real proof i have of us, why would i erase it all? i still tell the world about you. about how amazing you were to me. all of our small moments that i'll forever savour and replay like my favorite song. everything you did that meant the world to me but maybe nothing to someone else. it feels selfish and silly to still blurt out "i miss my bf," randomly. not silly enough to stop though. i'll find another stranger willing to talk to me one day, just so i can relive the memory of our entire relationship. i'll cry and laugh and smile, but one thing remains the same. the strong ache and anxiety i feel inside when i think of your face and talk about everything you were as a whole. everything you were to me. some will say my time for grief is long overdue, or that i'm not trying hard enough to let it go. but truth is that i'd rather be here than without the constant reminder that u were once someone i called my best friend and my lover. that's the scary thing about time, though. that eventually it will soften the lines of my memories of you until you're just someone that i used to know. but for now ill continue to be selfish. i'll continue to talk about you to everyone i'll meet. to make every conversation about you. to bring you up randomly at 2pm. to dedicate every song i'll hear to you. to write every poem about you. to never delete those photos. to check your page until it doesn't hurt anymore. to hold on as long as i can until i can't anymore. if this is the closest i can get, i don't want to be anywhere else. even then, im afraid of putting my life on hold for you. part of me knows that you're never coming back and that i'm wasting my time hoping for something. and the other part of me wants to preserve every part of my life and body like a mummy until you come searching for me. i'd be exactly how you left me, but with a heart of someone you deserve. i'd still be yours for now at a distance. and maybe you're still mine. maybe you'll find someone else, someone completely opposite of me. but i'll be here if you change your mind.
Two sides to the same coin.
Thinking back on the last 9 months of my life, I’ve come to realize that I’ve been cowardly hiding behind a disguise of a version of myself to come off as perfect to the people I wanted to impress.
Someone who is always pouring truthfulness, love, kindness, selflessness, and peace from her heart.
Unfortunately, it was a mask for the brokenness.
"Lately, I've been thinking that perhaps I am a coward
Hiding in a disguise of an ever-giving flower
Incompetent steward of all of that sweet, sweet power" (Who Knows by Daniel Caesar)
I convinced myself that I truly was a bad person. Mistake after mistake, my disguise was stripped away.
I am human. I’m not perfect.
I soon realized that through the faith I have in Christ, I am not called by my sin, but rather by who Christ calls me to be.
I am an "ever-giving flower."
I am transformed through the work and love of the Lord.
I have the power and potential to fully embody and be true to those traits because of Christ.
"You're just like a flower
You're ever-giving, that's a given
All God's children are special
But not like you, no, not like you" (Superpowers by Daniel Caesar)
It isn’t pretty.
Something’s rotting inside of me.
The last “I love you,”
the last “Goodbye,”
the last kiss we’ll ever share,
the last feeling of our fingertips touching.
Everything left unsaid,
and everything said with no reply.
Everything we were,
but not anymore.
Everything we could’ve been.
My grief slowly eats away at it like maggots and ants.
It’s ugly and slow.
Not at all like the beautiful beginning.
The early sprout,
the flower,
then the fruit.
I wish there were a way to keep my flowers and fruits from rotting,
as I realize that there’s no way to turn back time to savour it more than I did.
It will continue to rot away until it’s nothing more than a pile of dust that I’ll leave behind one day.
Just open your eyes. Or don't.
Waiting for someone you know isn't coming back is kind of like walking through a maze with your eyes closed.
You can free yourself by opening your eyes, or you're scared enough that you keep your eyes closed, running around in the same circles, staying lost in the endless maze.
The ending is the same. But do you really want to face it?
By chance, you will one day.
After being lost for so long.
Which way do you see it?
Grief. It's kind of like an illness.
Or maybe aggressive waves.
It weighs heavy on your heart in the beginning. Unbearably crashing onto you.
It's rough.
It burns.
It keeps you down and below the surface.
You're infected, and you can't do anything about it. No matter the medication, the home remedies, the appointments.
They'll help, but they won't cure.
You'll eventually find yourself asking when you'll get better. But the worst part is that there's no telling.
There's no timeline.
The waves calm now, and you're almost numb to the roughness of being pushed against sand and rocks.
You're numb to the water that inevitably gets into your nose from time to time.
The medication, remedies, and doctors still don't help, but you've learned to live with the sore throat and irritating cough.
You're used to how it feels. It's expected.
The seven-foot waves still come too.
Especially when you're looking onto the shore.
It crashes down onto you when you're not looking.
Suddenly, you're beneath the surface again.
And maybe in the end you'll learn to swim to shore. Or your illness will disappear one day when you wake up.
But for now you learn to live beneath the surface.
Let it be.
Sadness will always linger.
Even if you don’t want it to.
It lingers like your cologne stuck to my skin and clothes after a long day together.
Or like the sweet and savory smells of your favorite meal in your home after the stoves shut off.
It lingers like the steam after a boiling hot shower.
And like the smile that stays on my face after we pull away from a hug.
The feeling invites itself a little longer than expected.
But it’s not the good linger.
Not like the smell of you, the smell of your favorite food, warm steam, or a smile.
It lingers and traps you.
It doesn’t care if you’re having a good or bad day. Or if you’re with the people you love. Or if you’re sleeping or wide awake.
It’ll stop you in your tracks, and remind you all over again of how you even got there in the first place.
How does it reflect and change you?
How does that one saying go?
"The eyes are the window to the soul.”
I like to think that music is too,
or maybe even a tool that reflects and changes the soul.
Music is powerful.
It shifts moods, spirits, mindsets, and beliefs.
Now, think back on what you listened to today. How did it make you feel?
How did the lyrics reflect you as a person?
Again, music is powerful.
Tempos reflecting and changing your emotions.
Lyrics reflecting or changing what you believe in this life. Your morals.
Reflecting and changing. I like those words together.
The next time you press play on your favorite playlist, think about how it's reflecting and changing you.
I can’t stop.
I think about yin and yang a lot,
and music,
and my future husband,
and the Bible,
and my mind,
and everything I want to experience in this life,
and time,
and love and hate,
and the way I look,
and my regrets,
and trauma,
and people,
and what-ifs,
and purpose,
and occasionally I’ll think about you too.
I mean, you don’t have to fill it.
And don’t allow things to become too quiet.
The silence becomes oddly uncomfortable, like noticing every sniffle and shuffle in the library.
Or the sound of your own breathing just before you fall asleep.
The great urge to fill the silence between every sentence spoken.
You happen to be the very uncomfortable noise in my head when things get too quiet.
Seems to be the only noise I notice when my mouth is closed.
The noise the house makes when it settles.
Or the natural sounds of the woods that make you feel unsettled.
You seem to always sneak your way into my silence.
Almost like the loud floorboard when you sneak past your parents' room in the middle of the night.
Or maybe even like the cough that slips past your lips during a quiet time in class.
So don’t let it get too quiet,
or do.
And you’ll be faced with the uncomfortable silence.
Can I remember again?
I’m afraid of forgetting.
Terrified, in fact.
Maybe even more afraid of the fact that I’ll forget and never remember again.
The feeling of euphoria I got with every moment with you.
The sound of your voice that covered me like a blanket.
The soft smell of your cologne after a long day.
The taste of your lips against mine.
The tiniest details on your face and skin that no one else has ever noticed.
The warmth and weight of your body next to mine.
The future we’ll never get to experience together.
The words you spoke that I valued more than anyone else’s.
The look in your eyes while you admired me.
And even the feeling of your prickly facial hair on my skin.
Please tell me that I won’t have to forget forever,
and that I can remember once again.