Alexia Guzman // Monmouth County NJ // 19yrs old//
she was born hungry and the world instilled on her it was wrong.
she took first class with a teddy bear
held tightly in her hands
on a plane far away from the strangers
she called mom and dad.
she wasn't born with a silver spoon in hand,
but a monster in her head
created from the cheap shots of whiskey
a stoned brunette used to slap back on a sunday night.
there isn't a rhyme or a reason
but sometimes the bottle has no ending,
from the twenty six year old at the bar
to the little girl in the classroom asking for
teachers would bow their heads and
put the limit at one--
but while that little girl is
rolling down hills and picking flowers
her mother doesn't know the meaning of
"just one more".
it's funny how we're connected with people--
from genetics to this false feeling
of needing to get better.
but for some people,
getting better means getting higher
and that only brings them down further.
so this little girl always wanted to go
up, up, up.
while she's pumping herself higher on the swings
her mother's in the bathroom
doing the same goddamn thing.
until one day someone realized
the sky isn't the limit
and it's better to be grounded;
but sometimes life decides to turn itself around
and suddenly you aren't grounded
but being pummeled
down down down
with this idea of perfection.
she wasn't a cookie cutter person,
more of a roller coaster ride
you can blame it on the rehabs
or the system
or the stories
but in the end
i think it comes down to gravity.
i was walking on the borderline last night
and the thought kept plaguing my mind:
there are two sides to every story.
i’m caught up in a cycle between day and night,
tossed between megalomania
and thinking maybe i’m a mistake
because i can’t feel a fucking thing.
but there’s beauty in the uncertainty
of feeling like a natural disaster.
i can appreciate the sting
of hitting rock bottom because i know
what it’s like to be among the clouds
without ever considering coming down.
waking up in the morning
makes me feel like sisyphus,
doomed to an eternity of repeating the futile.
i pry my eyelids open the same way
he pushes the boulder uphill.
i pray for stability,
to accept the things i cannot change
and the strength
to change the things i cannot accept.
i’ve spent my life searching for serenity.
but when things are great
they’re too good to be true
and when the rock reaches the top
its right back to the start.