hello all.
i’m coming back.
get pumped. get excited. get HYPE.
you . haven’t . seen . anything . yet .

it’s 12:23 am on m a y f i r s t .
month of may. is my new beginning.
im searching. he keeps telling me to stay here. and i keep running away
so im wrestling.

it’s going to be song sharing. poem writing. bible reading. prayers written.
it’s going to be random.
but above all
it will be raw
it will be honest
it will be true

i’m not going to be afraid to post multiple times in one day (i’ve always been afraid of that…)
im not going to be afraid of when i finally publicly associate this blog on my real life facebook / social media and people finally read through all my words. not going to be afraid of the backlash.

this is an outlet i have not used to it’s full potential.

which is why
i’m coming back

~end trailer


im freaking out. my spirit is dying. i hate looking around my room and seeing all the things i have. all the things im not using to their fullest potential. it all reminds me of the meaninglessness in front of me. in my life.

i have no idea what im here for. i have no idea what he wants from me. and i am so alone.

im shutting out all the things that are trying to tell me positive things. because none of them make any sense. it’s all a distraction from the truth. or maybe this is the lie. see i’m all fucked up.

all i know is. right now. i don’t see why. i don’t see how. i don’t care. except i do. because if i didn’t care i wouldn’t be weeping my eyes out. i wouldn’t be screaming my head off. i wouldn’t be sobbing for meaning.

what am i doing here. can someone please tell me.

the little things used to satisfy. “oh im just being faithful. one step at a time. all the little interactions with people matter. that’s how i am making my impact” but maybe they don’t. maybe everyone’s too busy with everyone’s own selfish face taking up all the view. so that you can’t see anything but yourself. myself included.

im having a hard time transitioning. and i know it. i was terrified of this moment. these moments. because at the end of the day. it’s me here. by myself. it’s me here. unable to see past the end of my day. it starts becoming harder and harder to see the answer to why. so then the reason to move stops becoming clear too.

all of this
is a storm passing by
the kind you wait out until
only the drizzling rain dribbles on your shirt
as you scamper to your car
the only problem is
this storm comes every night
after a whole day of work
sitting in a cubicle
powering through assignments
powered solely by approval of the man
that 6:25 pm headache hits
and that mindless roommate chatter
the weekends with coworkers getting drunk and high
it’s the worst being in a room full of people and not wanting to be there
after all that
in my room alone
my demons come to taunt me
my bad habits rise to play
everything within me is fading
im losing any reason to stay
im grasping for that glowing memory
of what i thought was truth
but im being tortured here
and in this delirious state i can’t remember which way i came in
so i have no idea which way is home
and i feel pitiful
because i feel like if i were stronger
i would have a gut feeling
i would know how to get back home
but maybe it’s not even worth it at this point
because home would just be disappointed
fuck, im disappointed in myself.
who am i anymore
im losing that too
is this as serious as it feels
all my measurements are off
someone come help me
find me
and save me.
this isn’t like before
i don’t know what to say
maybe this storm isn’t passing
maybe all that’s left is for me to pass and decay

this blog is for me. it’s not for you. i’m not producing content for people’s approval. i’m posting raw thoughts of my own. that’s why i tell so few people about this.

it’s funny because before i graduated college i was going to tell almost everyone about this. i was going to send out this email with the link to this blog. and i was going to be like “oh, follow me in my life since we won’t see each other any more and read my stuff” because inside i was like yeah my content is good and i want people to see that i do it and blah blah. but recently i’ve just been so thankful that there is no pressure here. it’s the perfect place. because i want people to read my words (thank you followers) but i want to feel like i can say whatever and in my life i always feel like i have to make things perfect so that people can see how perfect i really am. which is ridiculous. anyways. this is a long way of saying. if you know me personally and you are following this and you are actually reading this rn (because i’ve noticed even when you send the link to people they actually never read anything) thank you for being one of the most important people in my life. and if you are reading this and you don’t know me personally, thank you for providing a space for me to be myself. thank you for your encouraging words and for your attentive eyes.

on to the real stuff …

today. i just got really overwhelmed with the apartment search. and i’ve been really annoyed whenever people ask me to do things. my mom asking me to do the laundry. my brother asking me to read his essay. my dad asking me what i’m doing with my time. it’s not that i don’t want to do it. it’s that my body feels like a ball of masking tape rolling around in the dirt picking up everybody’s waste. i feel like a bowl under a leaky roof trying to catch all the water seeping through. i feel like no one’s priority but everyone’s call for help. it’s hard to tell people you need help when they’re busy asking you for help.

i’m sick of feeling guilty for waking up at 11 am. guilt that i feel from myself and from my parents. because it’s apparently a sin to wake up at 11 am. but then, yes, it is indeed a privilege to wake up at 11 am.

i sometimes hit this place. when i have no idea what i’m doing. it’s this place where time becomes a bubble around me. everything slows down dramatically. and nothing feels exciting anymore. i’ll be in the middle of cleaning my room. and then boom. i’m surrounded by this mess i created and i just don’t have an ounce of desire to finish cleaning. i don’t know why i started cleaning in the first place. i start thinking about how i wish i were doing something i loved. but how i don’t even know what i love.

i’ve been trying to meet with God every day. At first it was going really well. and now it’s just hard. because you can’t have a revelation every single day.

ug ug ug. i’ve just been really sad. something inside of me is really sad. you know how peaches have pits and mangoes have those huge seeds and sometimes grapes have all those tiny seeds that you have to spit out? my sadness feels like that. it’s like when you bite into the fruit it’s juicy and sweet and the happiness dribbles down your arm it’s just so ripe and lovely. and you’re enjoying it and it’s sticky and it’s amazing. it has promise. it’s the result of hard labor. of growth. of cooperation from the soil to the sun to the water to the tree. so much went into this fruit. and so much comes out from it’s flavor. and yet. in the middle of every single one. is this hard. useless. wooden circle thing. this component of the every fruit. that you just wish wasn’t there at all. my sadness sometimes feels like the core of my being and when my energy levels are low it’s like i’m hitting the bare bones of my fruit. and i’m full of sadness again.

idk it’s hard to explain. i’m doing fine. i’m just trying to understand if this is who i am. or if this is something i’m going through as i continue to discover, shape, and become who i am. or maybe who i am supposed to be.

there’s a lot to say. there’s a lot to share. i don’t know where to start.

my emotion right now.
is blocked somehow
it’s a murky stew of many desires
spewing unknown attempts of expression
with a layer of rest and joy on top
like the way fat cakes into white lard chunks
when hotness cools
but the bubbling of flavor is more
restless than restful
like how this morning when i was sleeping past 11 am
it started to hurt to keep on forcing my eyes to close
and keep on sleeping, with spurts of five minute dreaming
so intense i was afraid to wake and face reality

i want to contact you
i want to see you
i want you to hug me
and remind me
why we called each other
even more than friend
but i’m sitting here
now i’m waiting here
my heart spilling here
the cuts and bruises refuses
to accept that i need you here
or that i want you now

it’s scary how fast the days pass.
i’m not sure what i’m supposed to keep track of
but without measuring something
hours are leaking
and they feel so silky smoothly slipping through
without knowing i’m moving
on into a place i didn’t ask to be

i’m writing here right now because i feel something i can’t put words to
maybe it’s that i’m afraid to be tied down
i’m afraid of looking at all these apartments because i don’t want to move into a place i’m going to hate being for the foreseeable future
there’s a brewing anxiety of not liking what i’m heading towards
maybe it’s that i want to be left alone
i don’t want to deal with people and drama
i want everything to start new again
when i walk through this door i don’t want any of the old stuff to be attached to me
i don’t want to find old baggage wandered in
i want to incinerate it all and pretend i can live
maybe it’s that i just see so much that was about to tip over
and now i’m stuck in between

airways pass beneath
disappointment stuffed cheeks
close eye spinning brews
miss represented loves cupid
bites bullets in lieu
forgoes responsible piles
work retaliates without style
looming death awaits
not rushing anything
cause time knows the end
arrives late
might not make it
try again

©Kira Shymn


for the last 6 months you thought you knew me
but last night i said too much
and now you realize you only knew my painting
i can’t be organized on your shelf
labeled, categorized, typed
did i scare you enough?
because that girl you knew, she’s still here too
it’s just that the person i am is designed to confuse
the flawless execution of this better life
back to broken
messed up defense
i won’t be offended when you run
because you bought into my facade
dismantled and destroyed
this is me
this life is mine
why are you still here
don’t like me
i’m not worth your time