Posted in poetry

Root Bound

Root Bound

The bittersweet truth of struggle is that it serves as unending inspiration for creativity. The beauty of poetry is that it serves as an outlet for struggle. The sadness of poetry is that it is eternal, which means the struggle becomes entombed in history.  I’ve been writing a lot lately, thankful for the inspiration but fighting the sadness of it.

Thank you for reading 🙂

–Leanne

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Posted in honesty, journal entry, poetry

Recycled

Recycled

I often tell people that my blog followers know more about me than anyone. I’ve never felt afraid to spill my secrets on here, mostly because I’ve only ever received support, never judgment. I like that I can write about my insecurities and struggles like I would in a journal entry, a freedom I’ve come to rely on, one that has helped me immensely in gaining confidence. I’ve started to appreciate my vulnerability as a strength and have realized that if I don’t have any fear to write about having an eating disorder or obsessions over boys on my blog, then there is no reason to hide that honesty from the people in my daily life.

I used to bottle my emotions. I never wanted to burden anyone around me with what I was feeling and my silence drove me over the edge. Few knew that I was spending my free time sobbing in my car, driving through a veil of water, alone and lost. I kept it all in until I didn’t know how to handle it anymore and I came to the conclusion that the only way to make the pain stop was to kill myself. This was 3 years ago, a time I never want to relive. I use music, writing, and an always jam-packed social life to make sure I never have to.

Since then, I’ve made it my mission to be honest with myself about my emotional health and also honest with the people around me. I don’t hide my struggles. In fact, I embrace them. I’m not afraid anymore to text a good friend and say, “hey, I’m struggling. Are you free?” What I’ve learned is astonishing. The more that I open up, the more the people around me feel comfortable to open up. It turns out that we are all fighting battles and most of us are holding them in. Now that I know the importance of talking through my insecurities, aches, and irrationalities, it’s become my mission to help the people around me open up too.

One of my best friends said recently that he wasn’t sure why, but whenever he hung out with just me, he felt comfortable talking about what was bothering him. I think it’s because we trust each other, a trust that was built upon a mutual understanding that we could be straight with one another. I will always have your back if you have mine, an unspoken agreement that started with honesty about what was below the surface.

My point with all this is that if I didn’t have poetry or this amazing community on here to help me work through all this, I’d still be that girl that hides how I’m feeling, invisible because I was too scared to let anyone see me. I thought, if I just hide my flaws, then I’ll be safe. I couldn’t have been more wrong. I’m the safest when I expose my quirks, even the embarrassing ones, like having no self control in how often I text boys I have crushes on or that I like “16 year old girl” music. I want people to see ME, to know ME, to appreciate ME, because there is no other version of ME that should ever exist.

Thank you for sticking with me. You have my back and I promise, I have yours.

–Leanne Rebecca

Posted in introspection, poetry, struggle

Ghost

Ghost  There I was, the girl sitting alone at a table in Whole Foods, licking chocolate off my fingers, heart in my head, guitar in my ears, stars lost in cynical fear, convinced no one could see my existence under the florescent hue. So I licked away, sucking on every knuckle until I’d captured all the chocolate, hands cleansed of the transgression, no trace that it ever happened, no evidence that I’d been there at all.   Tomorrow is my dead sister’s birthday, but you’d never know that.

Tonight is one of those nights that I could rant forever about what’s on my mind. Often though, I feel like I’ve already exhausted writing about my struggles. There are only so many times you can fill page after page with emotional drama, self-doubt, existential questioning, etc. There comes a point where you have to acknowledge it but figure out a way to channel everything you’d scribble in terribly written prose into something productive. I don’t want to dwell on struggle. I want to live today and love today. Everything is fleeting.

Happy birthday dear Becky.

–Leanne Rebecca

Posted in death, life, poetry

Never Again

Never Again  I do what I can to avoid that place, that head space when I needed an end to escape friendlessness, the torment not being able to feel my own breathing, a carcass driving aimless going nowhere, those days alone listening to song after song, wishing home felt like home, wishing my voice could rise, that invisible me could be seen.   Those days may have died as I learned to dispose of emotion, crying out the suicide, leaving the drops of intention to dry in a trail behind. But the scar still haunts, still taunts at this heart, whispers no one else can hear or know to understand, to allow my hand to hold a little tighter, to feel their pulse against mine, to help me feel alive.   I do what I can to avoid that place, incessant texts, aggressive pursuit of connection, random sex and make out sessions, singing as loud as scabbed lungs will allow, forcing your fingers in mine and pulling you close, begging you to stay so that I’m not alone, afraid, betrayed by the yesterdays when the threat of death was the only time I felt relevant.   —Leanne Rebecca

Tonight I’m obsessed with the song “Scene Four – Don’t You Ever Forget About Me” by Sleeping with Sirens. I’m pretty sure my roommate hates me because I just played it about 7 times in a row:

Don’t you ever forget about me
When you toss and turn in your sleep
I hope it’s because you can’t stop thinking about
The reasons why you close your eyes
I haunt your dreams at night
So you can’t stop thinking about me
Don’t stop thinking about me

Do you really think you could see this through
Put on a smile and wear it for someone new
Don’t you do it
‘Cause I know I’m not the easiest one to love
But every ounce I have
I invest in you
But no one said love’s not for taking chances

Hitting home.

–Leanne Rebecca

Posted in poetry, writing

Terrible Idea

Terrible Idea  There wasn’t an objective at the start, just desire— just pieces misaligned and confused by too many rhymes.  I didn’t know whether or not it was a terrible idea, whether or not the pieces would come together, but I had to try.   I took a leap of faith, jumped into the air before I knew  what type of landing I’d fall to.  Turns out the pieces cracked further  when I hit the ground, a conflict of concrete and bone, and a lot of words that hurt.

This was not the poem that I set out to write tonight. In fact I’m feeling a little blocked.

This might be a no no to admit, but I’m not even sure what it’s about, not really. It’s a mashup of several story lines, as if all my demons of the past 3 years are fighting for attention but none of them are winning. This isn’t supposed to be a sad poem, just a reflection.

Our lives are composed of the intertwining of faith and falling. No matter where you are in that process, I hope you are at peace.

Love,

Leanne Rebecca

Posted in honesty, poetry

Glory One Day

Glory One Day  The oppression formed a mushroom cloud around my entire body, trapping years of everything I couldn’t say in smog laden prison. I suffocated from the inside out, suppressed by the need to control every breath, every swallow, obsessing like a hypochondriac, everything was wrong and nothing.   I needed your permission to open my soul to the world outside of me, to not feel consumed  by the ashes of regrets  and stop fighting  just stop  and find the glory of staring mistakes in the eye, owning their weight with faith that one day I’ll learn to let them fade, lifted by release.

This weekend I saw Paramore, one of my favorite bands, play at the Beale Street Music Festival in Memphis. I was moved to literal tears by the set and turned to my friend and said, “it’s crazy how much I relate to their music.” My friend looked me in the eye and said, “Leanne, it’s not crazy because we all feel that way.”

We all go through struggles, many of them more similar to the stranger sitting next to you than you might realize. We all go through cycles of making mistakes, growing, learning, and discovering glory on the other side of the darkness we never thought we’d find our way out of. Stay strong my friends and don’t be so hard on yourselves.

–Leanne Rebecca

Posted in poetry

Overload

She told him the truth to stop the conversations in her head, expelling the catalyst before it sparked and exploded, leaving bits of brain stuck to her bedroom wall.   She coughed into her hand, choking up the seed that had implanted in her grace, violating her sophistication like a hijacker, a virus.   He accepted the gift, the honesty wrapped up in a ticking package, listening with the guise of patience, imperceptibly backpedaling away to dispose of the bomb dropped in his lap.   Their eyes locked, both pulsating with intensity, sapphires reflecting the depth of the burden she’d bestowed on his conscience, truths too intense for his heart to bear, her fight, not his.   She recognized his reticence, reaching her hand back out as though comforting a child, a gentle expression of assurance. She thought for a second he wouldn’t let her take it back.

Have you ever had someone tell you a secret you wish you didn’t have to carry? When it comes to my friends, I would rather they unload their heaviest burdens on me and let me support them rather than have them hold those secrets alone. On the flip side though, that often means I’m very honest with opening up about my struggles and I wonder if sometimes I share too much. I never want to be a burden.

I’m of the mindset that we should always support those that we care about, no matter what. The best of friends should never give up on one another, no matter how heavy our honesty weighs. I encourage you to tell your friends you love them and make sure they truly know it, not because you told them, but because you were there to carry them on your shoulders when they couldn’t walk.

–Leanne Rebecca

Posted in art, poetry, writing

Flutter

Flutter  She’d grown addicted to disintegrating, disappearing in bits like a withering sand castle, eroding away until someone would come along and pack her back together, subsisting in transience, never at peace with integrity, a master at sabotaging her own strength, artful almost, fluttering into pieces  with the grace of fluidity, falling again and again in perfect rhythm.

It feels like it’s been awhile since I’ve been on here. Every time I’ve tried to write a poem in the last several days I end up cranking out about 2 lines and then “finishing” the poem with several words of profanity before closing my notebook and filling up a glass of wine. There isn’t more to the story. Writing is rarely glamorous.

–Leanne Rebecca

Posted in art, poetry, writing

Irrational

Irrational  I sat inverted into introspection, ankles wrapped in tension, and focused on my insides, trying to perceive the sensations of the organs, convinced like a hypochondriac that I could feel something there.   Fear imploded into my chest as if my heart had turned to lead, heavy with emotions that didn’t need to exist yet, or at all.   I couldn’t feel the ground when I stood.

None of us can keep it together 100% of the time, especially when we’re afraid. We eventually learn that it’s ok to fall apart. We become pros at putting the pieces back together, so good in fact that most people around us wouldn’t know we were struggling unless we wrote a poem about it and put it on the internet.

–Leanne Rebecca

Posted in art, poetry, writing

The Circle

The Circle  I look out for you  with more composure than myself, bleeding your wounds between my own.  You fall. I fall.   I cradle you in my circle, heart fused to yours, sensing the falters of your beats in the contract of loyalty.   It’s written in trust and sealed in faith, a promise more binding than love:   Once you’re in the circle, I won’t let you leave.

This one is dedicated to my friends. I read an article yesterday talking about the differences between introverted and extroverted people. I fall right in the middle of both, equally outgoing as an extrovert and equally introspective as an introvert. What that basically boils down to is that relationships mean the world to me. I care for the people in my world with an almost unhealthy level of intensity. Annoying as it may be, they always know I have their back.

Have a great Sunday!

–Leanne Rebecca

Posted in art, love, poetry, writing

Pursuit

Pursuit  I would have killed myself long ago if I hadn’t found this purpose to feel, admitting the air coming in, even though it burned like salt on a cracked lip.  The sting on my flesh faded, but the memory of sensation remained. I never want to forget what it feels like to feel because numbness freezes the lungs useless.  The pursuit of you inundated my airway with water, rendering breathing that much harder, but at least my chest was moving, at least I felt like part of the living.

It’s strange what can inspire a poem. For me it could be a song or an emotion or a chair sitting in the corner of a room. Today it was the word pursuit. I saw it in a poem I was reading and something sparked inside me. I knew that word had a poem of its own that I needed to get out. So I typed it at the top of my Word doc and without knowing what would flow, I began to type.

I don’t say it enough, but I really do love you guys. Thanks always for reading my unfiltered verse.

–Leanne Rebecca

Posted in art, poetry, writing

Expectations

Expectations  I wrote them in the silence of intolerance, unfair assumptions  of a girl too concerned and  consumed by the future that she couldn’t live up to her own expectations dictated in passive aggression to the people that care now.

Be kind to yourself.

It’s been a week since I posted a poem on here and I’ve been worried about it. I’m in a state of transition right now, trying to figure out what my future has in store. I’ve been asking a lot of questions lately, mostly boiling down to “what do I want in this life.” And though I can’t answer it in this moment, and though I’ve struggled with writing as a result, I know I need to take my own advice and be kind to myself. If all I have is today, I’m damn well going to grant myself a break and a hug and a smile (and peanut butter).

Be kind to yourself.

–Leanne Rebecca