Nestled

Redux

There you are, hidden in the magic. 

The mystery of personhood waiting to evolve. 

Wishing to be found, but stuck deep within. 

Fear shutters the essence of being so much of the time. 

It takes courage to push off the debilitating, oppressive hand of inadequacy. 

Defeat gives us rage to rise up and out. 

Or not. 

Show our true selves or remain comfortably nestled within?

Originally published July 18, 2018 on I Write Her.

Unoriginal

Redux

Originally posted on I Write Her 7/8/2018. Published here with revisions.

pixabay.com

my thoughts are unique
or are they
am i an original
or just a borrower from the inspirers of my past
i fear the quality words
will all have been spoken
i wonder when it’ll all have been said
will my voice be muted before i die
before i leave my mark…

My Self Evolving

Inspired by Reena’s Exploration Challenge #197 & Eugenia’s Weekly Prompt – Journey

my life, this winding and criss cross journey
enduring the setbacks nature often offers
forces an accounting of my true self’s mission

while i critiquely reflect within my soul
the revelation – the person i see in the mirror is not me
it hurts that i’ve lived with this stranger for so long

i vow

no more continuing to plod along how others want me
i’ll take the reins now to forge paths more to my liking
my destiny means claiming my glory and being wholly present

Matt Snyder

Untitled
pxhere.com

Male Persona

By definition
Way above neanderthal
Refined, caring, sweet

Work Persona 

His face a facade
A work ethic to behold
Inside a failure

 Artist Persona 

A Prolific Man
He can be misunderstood
Never giving up

~~~

Matt Snyder is a Northeastern Pennsylvanian multidisciplined artist/writer that has been in the game since 1988. He can be found blogging art at  A Prolific Potpourri, photography at 365 SCBW and as arts editor at The Finest Example of…

Untitled

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#TheShortofIt

And She Decided

photo of woman looking while holding a wooden baton
Photo by JJ Jordan on Pexels.com
defying the norms
experiencing life on my terms
speaking out
in the face
of criticism
     IS
             challenging myself
keeping the promises
made to myself
defining boundaries
setting them in place
standing up
for what's right
      IS
               loving myself
deserving what i need
wanting what i deserve
challenging the status quo
standing against
the patriarchy
defending my honor
       IS
               respecting myself

it’s been a long time coming, baby

Illusion

Untitled

 

we show people
who they want
to respect

we yell
at ourselves
for who we aren’t

it’s out of habit
so they say
damn humans, so complicated

Inspired by VJ’s Weekly Challenge #80 – Habit  &  by Eugi’s Weekly Prompt 1/20/2020 – Complicated

 

 

Image credit – pxhere

Reblog – Faceless by Natalie Swift

photo-1508557446787-73acf2380f97
John Noonan – Unsplash

Unfortunately, the blog no longer exists. I didn’t get to know Natalie well, but she was one of my favorite reads. I realize that nothing stays the same and for whatever reason, she doesn’t write anymore. It just makes me sad when blogs sometimes just fade away. I hope Natalie sees this post and knows her words touched me. This piece reminded me so much of my thoughts and feelings during the terrible teens and tumultuous 20s. They sure did leave some scars. This was originally published on August 4, 2018.

Faceless

It all started as a game.

For as long as I can remember, I’ve always been a people-watcher.

As a child, I would watch people for hours before even attempting to talk to them.

I’d scrutinize how you spoke. What you wore. When you laughed. What you liked. Whom you talked to.

I would watch and watch, try to figure out who you were. What you wanted.

And once I put together the pieces of your identity, I would form my own, making sure they clicked.

It was like a puzzle that only I could finish and it amused me to have that sort of power over you: to control exactly what you see.

But under all of that, I’d ensured that I was that girl:

The girl you want to speak to.

The girl you share all your secrets with.

The girl you like.


I flit from one person to the next, as graceful as a butterfly.

Always smiling. Always pleasing.

You come to me when you don’t have anyone else, and it’s my shoulder you cry on, it’s into my ears you whisper your darkest secrets.

I soothe. I comfort. I encourage. I motivate. I charm.

And when I’m finally alone, I laugh.

I laugh at the world, at how gullible you are, to think you know me, to trust me the way you do.

I laugh till I cry and then I cry till I can’t breathe.

The tears never end, it seems, they flow and flow relentlessly, leeching me of everything.

The real joke was on me, all along.

And I’d never realized.


I look in the mirror and don’t recognize the shadow that looks back into my eyes.

I don’t ‘like’ her.

I despise her.

I see myself wrapping my hands around her throat and squeezing until the light slowly fades from her eyes.

And then, I realize the girl is me.

The irony: I’d gained the affection of everyone else, only to realize that I couldn’t win me over too.

Alone, I’m a coward. I’m despicable. Spineless. A doormat. A hypocrite.

I morph myself to suit the people around me. My very identity is built on everyone else’s desires.

I’m no one without someone to please. Nothing without a task to complete.

And there is nothing left of ‘me’ now, of the person I could have been.

Before. Before all the masks.


When I look back, all I see is crushed dreams, and when I look forward, I see an eternity of nothingness.

But it’s what I see when I look within that truly scares me.

Underneath all my masks, I am faceless.