ninety-seven.

i took my anxiety out on
my dirty balcony floor.
i scrubbed and i wiped.
i sprayed and i dried.
when i was done,
my knees were covered in filth,
my back was dripping in sweat.
all this work for a quick reminder,
that taking a break
shouldn’t be a set-back.
yet here i am,
thinking of all the items on my list,
all that’s left for me to do.

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ninety-six.

there’s a vast difference between:
being told you’re on a steep learning curve
and accepting a challenge, despite the gap.
one is the result of abuse of power
and the other is the result of craving growth.

ninety-five.

“how can she be tired?
she only has one child!”
these words never stopped her
from persevering
from getting through,
so don’t let theses insensitivities
startle or halt you.

ninety-four.

a woman without child
will still be tired
of proving to you
all she can do
as you still figure
she should deliver.
assuming she wants kids,
heaven forbid,
she could want something different
and live life, soar
without your standards
of life and gender.

ninety-two.

i set high expectations for myself
because i want
consistency,
positivity,
productivity.
there will always be trolls
under my sturdy, arched bridge
trying to chip away at my footing,
attempting to stress me out
so my truss crumbles,
splashing loudly
into the murky water below.
i was not built by faulty engineers
and have been made to endure intense pressures.
i cannot control the actions of those who creep
but can work to prevent my structure from slipping deep.
though cracks might form and foundations could dwindle,
no bolt will come loose, no wood turned to kindle.

ninety-one.

there is no bandaid method for pulling away from something you love,
especially when it has been poisoned
and toxified with external forces that plan for you to fail.
take what you love and run while it’s warm,
not away from the challenge, but towards something more.

ninety.

it works best to be genuine.
no games, no lies, no manipulation.
no pretending; don’t play dumb.
if you want a war, i won’t give you one.

eighty-eight.

anxiety is all encompassing, making what was once clear dark.
and then my email dings, alerting me of hydro bills and phone dues.
a reminder that life goes on, whether or not i’m in the mood for it to.