“One Art”
Elizabeth Bishop

The art of losing isn’t hard to master;
so many things seem filled with the intent
to be lost that their loss is no disaster.

Lose something every day. Accept the fluster
of lost door keys, the hour badly spent.
The art of losing isn’t hard to master.

Then practice losing farther, losing faster:
places, and names, and where it was you meant
to travel. None of these will bring disaster.

I lost my mother’s watch. And look! my last, or
next-to-last, of three loved houses went.
The art of losing isn’t hard to master.

I lost two cities, lovely ones. And, vaster,
some realms I owned, two rivers, a continent.
I miss them, but it wasn’t a disaster.

—-Even losing you (the joking voice, a gesture
I love) I shan’t have lied. It’s evident
the art of losing’s not too hard to master
though it may look like (Write it!) like disaster.

i know if i was somebody else looking at me 

i would punch me in the face so hard 

spit on me and say things like 'grow the fuck up' 

or 'stop being such a fucking pussy' 

things like that 

but unfortunately i cannot punch myself in the face 

is there someone else willing to do it 

today i went out and done did this to my hair

it's what the devil would look like if he rebonded his horns
the hairdresser called it 'havoc but subtle'
i liked her a lot she had red contact lenses and i felt like satan lived in her eyes
but it was ok like she controlled him and stuff

i don't feel at home anywhere, with anyone
with you, i come closest, but still it's like a house where the walls have been splashed with paint
and there's a constant odour of something rotten like a decaying organ
but at least it's a shelter, a roof

anywhere else i'm just standing in the raging pathway of the elements

no home, no belonging, no comfort
i'm doing all the right things
and seeing no results

i have to do the inevitable and straggle homeless through the streets
but how i would love to have that shelter
even if it was a piece of shit

read posts on my blog from before all this happened and cried 

can't we go back there 

why can't sincere apologies annihilate the pain? 

why won't you stop hurting me 

please stop

slowly getting my shit together i suppose 

eventful & not altogether pleasant first few days back in singapore 

but i'm happy to be with my family, 

and honestly, thank you to everyone who has shown me concern 

i feel like God has sent you to me to help me cope and 

for that i am ever grateful 

but otherwise, i'm trying to pick myself up 

i am also aware that i'm building my walls 

and i really do mean strong brick walls 

and i want to reinforce them with cement and beams 

because i will never let myself go through that again 

i will never make that same mistake again 

and it's good to make super strong walls 

because then i'll know 

the next person who can break them down 

who can be bothered to break them down 

will be worth it 

i hope 

i had a pretty good first day of school 

my first level 4 seminar 

everyone was really smart & i was really intimidated but 

i like our prof, he's a very old british man who wears velcro sandals 

it was 3 hours but i didn't fall asleep, always good 

saw old acquaintances & made new ones 

feel like God is looking out for me 

giving Him a bro fist pump for being the best bro ever 

je veux être heureuse

ça c'est tous

est-ce qu'il est si difficile?

avec toi, je souhaite que la réponse était 'non'

mais, je pense, franchement, la réponse correcte est 'oui'

.
.