No Face Photographs.

This is my faceless self portrait. Lately, my mind and heart has been all jumbled up, and my insides are twisted in all the wrong directions. I'm trying to remember who I am, and what I am doing with my life. Until then, this photograph will remain faceless.

"Welcome Home" by Radical Face has been my muse today. Please listen and enjoy. It's amazing. I hope that I too can be welcomed home soon.

Dear sixteen year old me,

Remember that time you kissed that boy on the bridge?

That older boy that you thought would make all your dreams come true?

Well, he won’t.

Remember when you felt so lost you stole your sister’s car?

You got grounded and you cried

And you snuck friends into the house to visit.

Remember when you had the best friends in the world?

Remember how you promised to be friends forever?

Well sixteen year old me, the world doesn’t change much.

There is still those boys that you hope will make all your dreams come true.

Some do and others don’t.

You will still get yourself in trouble and need your friends to pull you through.

You will still have some of the best friends in the world,

And you will be a little lost.

But remember,

It’s ok to be lost.

You will have no idea where you are going and that will piss the hell out of you.

You will find solace in other things.

You will find lots of broken hearts, heads, and spirits,

But you will rejoice in the happy beautiful moments

Dear sixteen year old me,

You might not know where you are going,

But it’s ok.

Be happy and live in the moment.

“You’ll shine like gold in the air of summer.” (Kings of Convenience)

Love,

Twenty two year old me.

Beautiful

If you were writing a love poem to one part of yourself you haven't learned to love yet, what would it be?

My skin. It doesn't always feel like it fits right

The part of me that doesn't believe that I deserve it all.

My scarred feet

I would write to my insides and send lots of new positive thoughts to them (ovaries, uterus, cervix, etc) and apologize to my body for not taking care of it from the beginning.

My mind.

The little voice that tells me I can't write poetry.

My vagina.

I would write to my hands, they write me, they wipe my tears, they calm me down to count to ten.

My heart.

My overly passionate personality

My scarred tummy. I think I'll do that.

My gender, Or my head.

I'd write to my body in general, the imperfections externally, and the maturing pieces internally.

The part that always needs to fight something.

Anything that makes me cringe when I think about it.

My arms.

My wants

My capacity to obsess.

The part of my that was taught that harming others is essential for self preservation.

My boobs. Definetly.

My Shyness.

My awkwardness.

My heart's obsessiveness.

That part that is to clingy, or the body, including my toe hairs.

My intensity.

My negative qualities or character flaws.

That part of me I forget to remember.

My cat-loving allergies.

My chatterbox.

Inability to beat my addiction.

The part that makes mistakes and needs help sometimes.

Andrea Gibson posted this question on her facebook, and I can't get over how beautiful some of the responses are. As human beings we are completely imperfect. Let us take our character flaws, scars, and our broken hearts and love them. Envelop them with all the love you can muster then throw them out to the world to hold onto.

Andrea Gibson

Happy Existence

I have been so unbelievably blessed lately. Not only do I have the sweet sounds, smells, and feelings of fall turning into winter wrapped up in my world, but I am surrounded by good constantly.

I am so grateful that the people that are currently in my life are taking their place and settling in on my happy existence. I don’t think I could ask for anything more right now.