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4,948 Life Lessons I’m still learning.

There is a stone in my chest.
It is cold and
lodged in place.
Swallowed as spoonfuls of sugar turned solid halfway down-
-Something a quarter of a century has taught me is
family is fickle. There is no blood or bond thick enough to get around it.
Love is conditional. There is always such a thing as being too much for someone.
Hope is beautifully dangerous. It guides the frontal cortex and leaves the lobe, flawed.
In rose-colored glasses, all those red flags will just look like flags-

Screaming into your pillow only makes you feel better for half an hour-tops.
Punching the wall works in the long run-but not for hands already plagued with nerve pain.
I have yet to find something that actually works in the long run- but I suppose that’s why I’m still learning.
If you keep calling yourself stupid, soon people will believe it. It won’t matter how much you teach them.
Doing will always mean more than saying. This is a difficult concept to grasp as a writer,
only made easier by my father’s consistent repetition.
Lies will eat you from the inside out, create a ménagère of mirror mazes where soon you won’t recognize who is looking back at you.
There is poison in pretending to be someone else. The poison does not kill the host, only their bravery.

I spent too damn long living as someone else-anyone else-because truth seemed scarier than fiction.
Truth will never be scarier than fiction. At least it’s real.
The line between reality and delusion is hair thin, constantly blurring-
Though I know it’s all in my head, I wish it weren’t.
Always carry headphones with you, they’ll help when everything gets too loud.
Keep a fidget toy in your bag, there is no shame in needing to release the kinetic energy you’re constantly absorbing.
Overstimulated and broken are not synonyms with one another. There is such a thing as loving a child too much.

I cannot pinpoint with any certainty when this terror came.
Perhaps it was when my mother began weighing my worth with numbers.
Maybe it was earlier- at the precipice of personhood- when I can vividly recall dissociating from reality to the sight of my own hands.
Afraid to tell a soul of the chasm slowly opening in my sternum.
Yes, I would say it was earlier, long before symptoms had cause or diagnosis outside of
“Oh my, such an active imagination on that one-”
Active like the amygdala consistently firing off with no rhyme or reason.
Active like the mania spirling me toward self-destruction.
Or-
Is it active like the way the wind feels rushing past my face as I hang out the car window?

Reckless and I were well acquainted for many years, I found her every time I was looking for her sister, Death.
It took hitting a quarter of a century to lose her number.
Is there anything I have learned then? Of course-
Every soul has value, every soul can be forgiven.
Everything is magic, it’s all about your intentions.
Your words have power, they are your spells.
You don’t need to ask for guidance, your world will bring it when you need it not when you want it.
Religion can be anything you need it to be- a man with stars for eyes and a heart of warm steel told me this when explaining that concerts are his churches.
Love fearlessly, anxiety will only bring doubt, which snowballs into something much uglier.
Every mistake is a lesson, it’s okay to need more than one in the same subject.
Never become apathetic to the world around you, the past has taught us the destruction this causes.
Always be kind. Always be open.
But never, and I mean never, lose your spark to someone else’s inferno.

Style / type: 
Free verse
Review Request (Intensity): 
I appreciate moderate constructive criticism
Review Request (Direction): 
How was my language use?
How was the beginning/ending of the poem?
Last few words: 
This poem centers on growth and the lessons learned throughout that process.
Editing stage: 
Content level: 
Not Explicit Content

Comments

I think we are going to find you and your work very interesting. I hope that you will find time to read the people that interest
you and they, likewise.
Your language use is good, the beginning, leads us to a sort of middle and then as a conclusion; an invitation to interact.
Nice! ~ Geezer.
.

There is value to commenting and critique, tell us how you feel about our work.
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Greetings, and welcome!
I came in after seeing your title. There is much here to take in - wisdom and observations about life. A favorite part of the poem for me is the "active imagination" reference: "...active like the way the wind feels rushing past my face as I hang out the car window." I'd love to hear more and understand more about that amazing thought. You have so much here in one read, I'd be curious to find out if there are many, many more poems hidden within these thoughts. I look forward to reading more.
Thank you!
Lavender

I feel a kinship to you through this poem. I think you have underestimated yourself and capabilities. or you are not yet ready to reveal some truths and you could be holding back for safety sake. I agree with much of what you are saying. I'd write more here, but my hands are too painful. I have psoriatic arthritis and fibromyalgia. and recently I had an accident falling in the shower. my left hand maybe permanently damaged .

*warm greetings, Cat

*
When someone reads your work
And responds, please be courteous
And reply in kind, thanks.

Sorry I’m late. Normally I’m a chatterbox but I’ve been busy. I love this whole thing. I’m glad you found your voice. I’m thrilled you came to share it here. I’m looking forward to reading more.

Keep it up
Tim

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