Recognizing Privilege

I think of how lucky I am just to being me

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I didn’t ask to be born but

I won the genetic lottery

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I don’t have to do much

just a little mascara, maybe some blush and now

it looks like I’m made of pixie dust

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I truly am blessed to be born in the skin I am in

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Language Barriers

Why is this how you interact with me?

Do you see me?

Do you even know me?

.

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The kind words that go unspoken

leave my heart longing

for recognition.

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It pains me to not hear

what I know you feel.

.

.

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When you give me things

it’s not the same

as when you spend

time with me.

.

.

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I see you talking your own language-

keeping the house clean,

cooking dinner for me,

and keeping the cats alive.

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I see these things but

they are not deeply felt in my heart.

It’s because my own predisposition to love.

.

.

The way you speak to me,

of love and comfort,

of companionship and loyalty,

of trust and faith…

with actions of love,

does not resonate as well

as when spoken in my own language.

.

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But slowly I am learning yours

so I can feel love

and speak to you how you understand.

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❤ Glitterfly Jessa

Thanks for reading!

Depression’s Trophy Wife

Depression doesn’t always look like depression.

~you know, those standardized images of people sad and crying unable to leave bed all day…

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.

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but the anxious thoughts of worthlessness,

the irritable grumbles that come too quick,

the desire to binge and the desire to purge,

the inability to concentrate on interesting things,

the loss of appetite,

.

the decline of emotions

typically shown as

a loss of interest in friends,

family,

food,

anything that once brought happy.

.

.

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Those are still the face of depression,

just hiding a little better.

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Thanks for reading!

If you liked this please feel free to share and come follow me: here on the sidebar (or below if you’re mobile) and on medium: https://medium.com/@JessicaLDeJesus and facebook.com/hempmyheart

❤ Jessa

Guilt-Free 

When I spend too long waiting, 

I lose inspiration. 

Too many thoughts flow all at once. 

.

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Poetry is like sex to me

.

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First thing in the morning,

before I have time to fire up my brain,

I like to fire up my heart. 

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I use my heart to control my body. 

.

I can feel my fingers tingling 

with sweet sensation

of foreplay…

.

Waiting,

to be used. 

.

The less I think about what to do

.

the easier, better and more natural it is. 

.

I find comfort in being alone in my head,

first thing in the morning especially;

It allows me time to do what I love-

Guilt Free

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Thanks for reading! If you like what you read- like, comment and follow my blog for more poetry like this 💕 Jessa

Foreign Thoughts

I just experienced the strangest thought…

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not strange, I suppose not.

but it was a foreign thought.

.

.

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I thought to myself as I wrote down some prose

~maybe I should edit or censor myself

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But No. 

.

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then who would I be?

.

.

Except an ungenuine poet 

unraveling at the seams. 

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❤ Glitterfly Jessa

The Tortured Mind… And the cycle it plays

Wondering how long ill continue to feel

Its taken so long, but ive finally started to heal

Healing from the scars of my past

The emotional cuts that hurt deep down and seemed to last

…to bring a child into your tortured mind

Is so incredibly wrong, but wheres the line? 

Of who hurt you so you hurt me and i hurt in turn you see

Its a chain reaction almost impossible to break

It takes a lot of courage, time, and self-aware ability

To stop the cycle that hurts so great 

Adulthood

Always wondering if my decisions are right
Between my heart and my mind, there is a lot of strife
Tossing and turning the choices around
Sooner or later, i would like to feel safe and sound
Nothing to make up my mind for me
When every choice takes a while for the seed to bud into tree
Constantly in the unknown
This is no way to grow

Life is so different when you hit adulthood
Nothing feels the way i thought it would…