I used to ferment things and I was vegan I had deep thoughts and was quiet

I remember St. Louis 

And starting my family.

I remember ray and Chris and the small cafe.

I remember being alone in the basement and dreaming, having the space to dream. 

I will start a family and care for my body and spirit.

I dreamed about friends and trips and being loved and family and there were so many things open to me if …I could stay straight and behave in the eggshells.

As a quiet shy person…. As someone who should be quiet and shy…

And what if I grew confidence? What if there was more?

What if I was afraid to sleep in his bed as more than his best friend but what if I said it?

So I said it I stared at the ceiling in tears and I was heard again and again.

But oh well another day at work. He went to distract himself with alcohol or the climbing gym.

I stayed in the basement watching tv and crying. I want to go home please god let me go home.

But where is home? And it’s so so cold. Where are the beautiful women?

These thoughts rushed through as I made our house cute. I remember being so far from home and homesick.

Homesick could have been anywhere where I was loved so I dreamed and dreamed.

I imagined gardens and a ceramics studio and sunflowers and a woman holding me.

Lesbians are not real. 

I went to the health food store praying for a vitamin that could make me healthy.

I went raw vegan, I lost 100 pounds. I ate blue green algae in a paste form mixed with sunflower sprouts.

His family knew.

They started to distance themselves and act isolating. I wasn’t invited to join them on a trip to a family activity etc. everyone’s name called accept for mine.

“ if you’d like me to go with you to the bead store.”

I baked cookies and cleaned cleaned cleaned it wasn’t enough. If I lose weight they will love me if I….

They were proving to me they didn’t want me as family as I desperately needed a family…

And I wondered here in the strange land of the Midwest. Fudge and honey and bluegrass and 

Coffee shop friends and the sweetness life gives you when you surrender to sweetness.

The magic that is wild honey and barefoot running through the forest picking berries wild and free.

Yet I was so tethered and a guilt pit in my stomach came from wondering why.

Why they hated me or treated me so badly, what I could do to change that. 

But I am a loser, once again and I should really just wear all black and shut up.

I had nothing, humble beyond measure. 

Then mom dies and I all of a sudden own all of her belongings, sorting, still all attached to her voice and why and her mental illness pill rattled brain, her skin cells on these objects in my DNA. My whole being was altered by what she thought I should be even after she died…mom would think this was cool. Mom would want me to wear this etc.

Grandfathers colonial hell African art. Oh this is “really so very cool like you don’t even know Sarah.” Oh okay. I guess…. 

There were dumpsters full. UHauls full. And her little plastic pill cases full of morphine chalk and cocaine and “ headache medicine” and peyote casually processed into her lipstick tubes.

From hell it was all from hell and it made me guilty, guilty to try to explain it. Guilty for why it all meant something to me. Why was I holding on?

It was just all there with no one’s help. It was just all there and it was me and it in silence.

Do I talk it through?

No one talks to me about it and it’s just there in boxes family shit to sort…

Is there the solace of my silver dreams floating over a manastery in my past life where I owned nothing but a hairpin.

Off to Shanghai la over the sink under the oak trees. Cashews and agave syrup, coffee and honey and spirit and poems and the ethereal poems in my soul.

Blue cobalt blue. Sing me to sleep the gravity is too much to bear and my solace is gentle my solace is comfort of time. Well aged relatable to a storm. To turbulence in air. It’s all normal.

Limerance for the forest and women soft with love. Presence is hot, love is hot with presence. My eyeball drifts in pain, I try to make it not go lazy…. I feel shame for what Christine said, insults about my eyes. My eyes I can’t control. Oh.

Love. Sunflowers in a blue vase just for me. Kisses just for me. Crying in the closet. Another breakup. Another family member gone.

But why?

Love finds everyone else or women just want men. Why can’t I want men? They make me vomit.

I was in the hospital so much.

Why can’t lesbianism be like a choice like being vegan. I was so good at being vegan.

I lost weight but people still… why was I fucking born? Why was I born this way?

Chris and ray are of the same, they know how to ignore me the same so I sit there and love them while they ignore and walk away. That is the truth of the dreams I created. The family fantasy as lesbianism was also…not real? It is the truth of my years of effort and now what?

Now what? She proved to be another disrespectful love.

A love not based on truth or full presence. A selfish loving self loving but mostly self hating. She sits around and mourns a dick she doesn’t have. She gestures it and rage pours out everywhere in all kinds of messy hateful directions. I left her because she said she thought loving me was a deep philosophical concept not an answer to my question…” do you love me?”

So a beautiful woman tall and strong fucked me and didn’t know the worth. My worth or her own.

And I felt so good and happy up inside me….

Happiness must be material stuff and trips she might of thought that was a fact as if a cure was out there to help her stop the death wish train. Why did she want to die. I tried to make her love and joy and I couldn’t hold. My brain could not hold.

Based on material goods she wanted, she used me up and I let her so she would hold me in bed and say she loves me and bring me sweetness and soft kisses I moved and held and loved I thought we were genuine in the middle of the night. Our faces touching, noses pressed, holding. Her neck so soft for me to smell.

Then her anger, at me so intensely that I cried on toilets with diarrhea daily. Soaking handkerchiefs, sitting in the bathtub unable to expand my brain. She wants to live here only if there’s a bigger tub and wallpaper and an animal sanctuary and her kids will be in the front room and what are our wedding colors.

Then she makes fun of me designates my self esteem into a speck of sand and the white glow of her hug is still there.

I want hugs and love. So I cry and cry and cry and pay money because I have money…

Trips, food and money. Everything will be so great when…she says “when”

I won’t want to kill myself when…..

When you go on this trip, pay for my dinner, get a better hotel and I said yes because I can.

I pray to angels because up to this point I am a rich woman who wants what’s free.

I wanted arms around me in bed loving me.

But life is what you make of it so 

Hot is 

Presence, being there. 

If she said fuck me deep and I’m going to be there all night because you are my love and I’m going to marry you and tell the world and we’ll love and fuck all day….and kiss…

Today I go back to my sweetness for what I can monetarily buy that will make Me happy.

I guess there’s that. The victory or reclaiming my sane self. I have 

Garden beds, and compost, seeds. Bells, Arizona spring water.

Here I am on another boring day alone. Processing. Healing. Seeing. Doing. Living.

Light the beeswax candle. Here we go again. Tears.

I pray to saraswatti for knowledge.

My higher self is on point she’s a priestess. 

I still don’t know what I’m doing here