The first Frank Ocean song I ever heard was Try. In a park, in denial, lost hope yet a beautiful being told me to listen and maybe planted some seeds in my heart. It felt good to be understood, to be nudged gently out of my cocoon. I can always look back and remember the bubbles in my timeline that burst when my spirit elevated. God has come to me in many forms and often I am in denial, crying out to the skies when really God was sitting right next to me offering me a shoulder to lean on.
On most days I can see the beauty of it all. On weekends it’s praise in the form of slurred words and lazy eyes. Some days I fall asleep as the sun rises and only wake to watch it set while I inhale smoke that leaves me feeling guilty, another failed attempt at a new, clean start. You know; same shit, different day.
Last night was weird. I couldn’t sleep at all, I think a version of me from the future paid me a visit, I had to many questions. I think she was trying to tell me to wake up and clean my temple. That God wasn’t happy with what I had become and self love should never taste so bitter. It feels so strange in here, like everything has been packed away and I recognize the colors on the wall but the furniture is weird and misplaced. It smells like lonely and anger in here. Some of the rooms have flowerpots of hope but they too are dying of thirst.
They want me to write a letter, piece together words explaining why I deserve it. The closer I get to the deadline the less I know. I have no reason apart from just wanting it, I wanted to believe that I could be worthy but the more I look for words, They run and i don’t have the energy to chase after them. I’m still in bed waiting for the sun to go to bed so I can frolic with the monsters and skeletons.
I miss my mothers hugs, I wish I could drink her laughter, maybe water some of these flowers.
I wish He missed me enough to call sometimes.
This web I feel trapped in is my own. I can save myself. I just need to try