10:30 pm on a Friday

Dear World,

I think I'm mad. I think I'm mad and sad and happy and hopeful and I'm feeling a little let down.

I think my soul is smoke. Not the Las Vegas smoke, more like the Wyoming fog. To be honest, I don't know if Wyoming gets foggy, but when I think of my soul, I think of the Wyoming fog. I think of how some times, it's so thick that you think you can hold it, and how other times, you'd hardly ever know it was there.

When I think of my soul, I want to imagine it open. It's so open, that everything comes flooding in. You'd see words like music and pictures like books and everything would blend. I mean everything would blend.

But yet, here I am. I'm mad. I'm mad at him. This is a poem so old, that it doesn't even deserve to be written. I'm in the same position I was six months ago. A year ago. Three years ago. I've been here a lifetime. And yet, everything has changed. A year ago my soul was chained. Nothing blended. The pictures were nothing more than pictures and the words didn't sound anything like music.

But yet, here I am.

If change happens in inches like time happens in months, this will pass. If I need a yard stick to separate my heart from his, I have to accept that a foot comes before a yard. This will pass.

Much love (I'm trying to put that out in the universe these days),

Baylee

The steps I took to learn to breathe

1. Say what you want to say when you need to say it. This will only produce positive results. (And if something drastically terrible comes from it...well, sorry.)

2. Be more like a snail. No, don't be slow, just appreciate the little things. (Unless being slow works for you, then be slow.)

3. Don't be afraid to let people in.

4. Don't be afraid to let people go.

5. Remind yourself: I'm always exactly where I'm supposed to be.

6. Repeat the previous step multiple times.

7. Be confident. Be bold. I'd rather have you do that than tear yourself down everyday because you don't want to be cocky.

8. *cliche* Just allow you to be you.

9. Remember, I'm always exactly where I'm supposed to be.

10. *another cliche warning* (hey, cliches are cliches for a reason, amiright?!) Don't listen to the haters, or the bullies, or the down-putters, Their opinion only matters if they love you as much or more than you love yourself.

11. Love yourself. Hey, look at me. It's okay. It's okay to love yourself. If no one has ever given you permission, I'm doing it now. Love yourself.

12. It's okay to make mistakes. Be mature. Learn from them. Apologize. Have patience with yourself.

13. Lastly, suck in the air around you and let it fill up your lungs. Let it out. Repeat.

The feels and the tears came back

If my heart were a mat,
Would you use it to lay over a puddle?
Like gentlemen of older days,
Would you hurt my heart
For the benefit of others?
There is a certain beauty to that,
And you know I'd let you do it.

If my heart were a mat,
Would you use it to wipe your feet?
Your wood floors need never suffer
From the storms of God.
That, I would gladly let you do.

If my heart were a mat,
Would you frame it for all to see?
Give it blood for its thirst?
Put it by the fire,
That it might continue pumping?
Treasure it so much that,
Should you be evacuated,
It's the only thing in your hand
As you watch your home curl in the flames?

What hurts the most is not the footprints on my heart,
But the truth that lays in my bones.
The truth of this poem.