stoner queen pt.2

I am never sure about posting what I like to call my raps, because they might not translate as well into poems. But actually they all tell a story and today I will share my most recent rap, and probably the one I am most proud of, about my problems with marijuana

Here we go again, I'm stoned again, feeling at home again,

did you know you're my most loyal friend?
With possibilities that never end, all the rules I can bend, can't wait to tend to my addiction;

it's not fiction, I need to feel the friction in my life, didn't realize the strife it caused,

the fact that I had formed a clause.

Here's to you and me, colour kelly green, have you seen what it brings to me?

The possibility to eat, keep going that sweet beat in my head, get my shit read.

All problems are dead in these moments, trying to own it, condone it, 

the fact that maybe I still can't control it.

it's the opponent, but I thought of us as teammates, we can always relate, when I am in this state,

 I feel fucking great.

Here I see what's going on, when I'm with you I feel calm and strong, time to hit another bong;

this is where I belong writing songs, well, rhymes. No matter how many times I fall, stall,

or hit a wall. I'll turn to you, so true, maybe today I'll make a breakthrough,

move to uncharted territory, as I continue to tell my story.

I have a theory, a query, about why it makes me think so clearly, have more desire,

feel the fire and passion and emotional attachment; give me the will to action,

and without it feel a fraction of the thrill, the pleasure in each day, but am I wasting away?

Giving up on shit before it starts instead of following my heart, there for me from the start

while I'm denying that you're tearing me apart.

And I'd be lying if I said I'd figured this out before now, I'm kind of realizing as I'm writing this down.

Better take off my crown, to being stoner queen,

I'm not trying to be mean but from what I've seen I could smoke most people clean.

Now that's in the past gotta learn fast how to make a vast improvement, in my self development movement. It better not get arrested, but I guess I tend to test it, cuz I'm getting bested,

eyes red, I'll get this yet...

Something I am always working on is trying to set boundries with smoking pot. I find it easier that others sometimes, and I also think pot helps me in terms of being an HSP. I feel it helps ease some of my anxiety throughout the day and can also help me let out my emotions if I have been trying to move past them which for me doesn't seem to work. It can be really challenging for me because I tend to indulge myself with what feels good to me and for me so finding a balance so I can ease my mind but still accomplish what I need to in a day can be tricky. I am doing much better than I used to know that I at least know this can be a problem. There is always room for growth and I definitely keep in mind not to be run by marijuana, but to let it be a sort of therapy in my life.

it's in my head again

One of the worst parts about recovering from an eating disorder, is relapse. For so many reasons. I found that each relapse was worse and more damaging than the last. The thing that bothers me the most about relapse, is how slowly and silently it can creep in, and suddenly snatch you away before you even knew it was coming. I was free from eating disordered behavior for approximately 2 years until I moved to a new country. Away from friends and family, it was easy to slip down the slope from eating healthy to not wanting or caring about food. I want to share a rap that I wrote near the end of 2012 when I agonized for over a week whether or not to fully welcome my eating disorder back into my life

It’s getting in my head again, what has changed? 

Well, almost everything.

I can’t believe it could happen again, not saying it would but i’m rappin’ again

I’m worried because I promised myself not one more time

 But these feelings just aren’t healing and I’m not sure what kind of dealing

I feel like handling right now. 

I’m hoping admitting this won’t make it worse but these words keep invading my mind,

 I’m not blind, I want to listen to them

I know it’s so damn wrong and I’m not calm but there seems to be a palm reading going on

I’m strong but a part of me just wants to give in, like a sin, under my skin I just want to feel thin,

but I don’t want to pay the price, I’ve probably paid it more than twice, but am I willing to roll the dice? This is my warning cry, because if this happens again I might die, I don’t want to try those chances.

 No more dances or romances,

fuck that I’m not even 25 and I still feel so alive I must strive to survive

because now I love life

I just want it to be known that no matter how many times you relapse, or consider relapsing, getting out is always possible!

I'm wondering when my stomach muscles will ever heal.

This is a short poem I wrote last week as a way to let out how frustrated I am with the recent troubles I have had with my stomach muscles. After reading it I realize much of it could also be applied to my body image issues as well.

I'm sick of this mess,
from constant stomach stress
it's making me depressed,
like I can't get enough rest.
I can't remember when I've last been my best,
taken a physical test,
or blessed my soul with sex;
and it's taken it's toll, I feel hexed,
cursed, did I break a mirror?
did I look and see fears or,
was I trying to hide the tears?
I'm trying to switch gears,
but I'm stuck,
so I'm riding up this hill,
without any luck.