I struggle to put my thoughts into words.
My mind wanders off the pages.
I always have something I want to say
But I lose it every time I try to focus
And whenever I run into uncertainty
I find myself face to face with my darkest thoughts.
So, I lay my pen down in shame
And wilt away into despair.
I’m tired of this repetition every day.

I wonder if there’s a part of me that’s broken
Maybe that’s why the words won’t come.
Or maybe that’s just an excuse I tell myself
But I want to write about the chapel of memories inside me
It’s a cathedral of everything I wish I could share.

I think about how I can put all the pieces together
Maybe I can place them in a small journal
One I can fill with every part of me.
I don’t even know where to start.
There’s so much I want to express.
I want to write about all of the things inside my heart
Which shimmer in my stained-glass core.

I want to write about my fragile self
Who always wants to be there
For the people I cherish so dearly
And always repeats the words
Like a prayer:
“I wish I could do more”.

I want to write about my uncertain relationship with my father
And of the shouting matches we had over the years
Or when I saw his eyes meet his mother’s ghost
Not knowing it was the last day he’d be alive.
But more than anything, I want to write about his funeral 
Where I watched his bones turn into shriveling lilies.

I could discuss the books I love,
Or the video games, tv shows, and movies too.
I always love talking about the themes of their narratives,
And the characters who drive them forward.
Stories are like a window–
A place where I can step into the chapels of others
And learn about how to be more empathetic
So I shape myself into the person I desire to be.

Or I could write about all of the online games I’ve played
And my closest friends that I met through them.
They feel nearby even though we’re miles apart.
I’ve known them for over a decade
Although it still feels like I met them yesterday.
I wish I could tell them how much they mean to me.

There’s also the music I listen to
I think that could make up its own journal.
There are so many tracks that make me feel a certain sweetness
Which is laced with a bitter melancholy.
I always feel like I’m being enveloped by the melody.
I wonder if someday I can continue playing the piano
And watch others feel the same.

I could also talk about the student journal I joined this year
It’s full of voices young and old.
They share so many of their experiences
And try so hard to write or draw
All so they can express themselves to the world.
I wish the same courage was inside me.

Maybe instead of the contents of the journal
I can speak about my time as a team lead.
But I wouldn’t write about myself
I would end up writing about the five classmates in my team.
The ones who made me become a better leader
And feel like we can tackle the world.
The five people I cherish so much
Who are spreading their wings into new skies
While I remain stuck on the ground.
I’m so happy they’re growing
But I’m scared to lose them.
I wish I could tell them how much they mean to me.

I wonder if can talk about my streams
And all the games that I played on them.
I wanted to meet people who would listen
To me share my interests with them daily.
But also, I wanted a home
Where we could talk about each other’s lives
The pains that echo inside our chapels
And all the hopes that refract through stained-glass.

I could talk about those people,
Who I cherish more dearly than myself
The ones who have stuck by me
And watched my stream’s quality grow,
All while we bantered with one another daily.
The ones who I’m so scared to lose
Because I feel like I can’t be beside them
So I end up running away from them instead.
Even though I know it’s my own punishment
I wish I was able to tell them how much they mean to me.

I can only think of one other thing to write about
The spoken word poetry class I’ve sat inside for three months.
It’s a room filled with twenty-four of us
Who are lost inside our own broken chapels.
Each of the people there has found a way
To express their shattered pieces to one another.

Each week I watch them stand near a microphone
Become enveloped by the rhythm of their voices
And for a brief moment
That small room turns into a cathedral–
A place for us all to be vulnerable together
And chant a prayer for things to come.

But even though I am in awe at everyone’s beauty,
I cannot help but leave myself separated.
Because I’m afraid that if I get close to them,
They’ll realize I’m broken inside.
So I maintain my distance
And gaze at them from my closed chapel walls.

I want to write about everything
I have so many things I want to say
I want to write about all of my pain
And all the things that keep me happy.
I want to write about everyone who I cherish so dearly,
And how they all shape me
Into the person I am
Past, present, and future.

But I can’t.
I could never do them justice.
I try so hard to describe them
But my words fall short–
As if they’re slipping through the cracks
Inside my chapel’s broken walls.

The people I cherish mean so much to me
But I feel undeserving of them.
I’m not someone who deserves to write about them.
I could never shape it into words.
My chapel’s already broken inside anyways.
So instead, I lay my pen down in shame
And wilt away into despair.
I wish I could tell you all how much…

A coda to all the things I had been writing about during the last few months, created spur of the moment in an hour of weariness.

To those who read until the end, I extend only my deepest gratitude, and I hope this piece was an enjoyable read.

To those who listened to me speak poetry aloud within the last three months, or read my works as they were being written, thank you very much for being willing to let me share part of myself with you.

And to all those who allowed a small part of me to be in their lives, thank you so much for everything throughout the years. I wish I truly had the words to express everything to you all.
————————————————————–
Thank you all so much for everything. Til we meet again, on the starlit sea…