3. Delete

Wow, dad just brought my box of stuff to mom’s. And I decided to save this blog, but I won’t start writing again until I’ve caught myself up! Because it has been intense! Maybe my past and my present and my future are all colliding. Tense. (Thank’s “siri”)

My Ghost Speaks

I have a delete problem
I have wanted to walk away.
I don’t want to see
what’s in front of my face.
I’m a problematic
asthmatic anxiety attack.
Someone took from me.
I’m taking it back.
But best not fuck with
what’s been fucked with
because what used to flinch
now speaks with words
like she speaks with her fists.

I do have a delete problem.  I get embarrassed sometimes, when I share my heart or my soul or my journey, I overshare and then sit here alone wondering why I exposed myself or allowed myself to be so naked.  Those of you who used to read emmabush.com, my first blog, where I first began to open up on personal topics, like depression, anxiety, substance abuse, and life post trauma… you probably wonder where all that I wrote went?

Apparently I saved it to a hard drive…  I DID NOT…

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