 I was taught to search for God.
I grew up trying to earn holy love in the way I covered my skin and sat in expensive, beautiful buildings. I was taught that God would love me if my language was pristine and liquor never breached my lips. I devoted my life to hiding my heart in standards and contorting to regulations, striving to find sanctity in my endless suffering. Now I know better I find God in the confidence of wearing an outfit that makes me love myself. I find God in the company of a brother in a beat up truck. I find God in the strength of the shoulders I cry on and the vulnerability of the tears that wet my own. I find God in the bottle we pass after a long day of work. I was taught to find God’s love. Now I find the holiest spirit in the simplest of things, like the steam of my coffee. I know now that God’s love finds me. - By E.V. Seegmiller -
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 “Toward better things”
eternally carved into my skin the ink stark and bold a daily reminder I read it like a scripture Sob it like a prayer Say it like an oath Because this HAS to get better Someday it WILL work out If I just keep moving forward It will get better, right? - By E.V. Seegmiller -  I have learned to make my own light, and to appreciate the beauty of the night sky.
Still, one of my favorite things will always be the way the sun will set and rise. Y’all have been my sun, my entire life, and I don’t know how to explain my fear, I don’t know if it can be described. Any day, you could resolutely choose them and walk away Any day, you could choose to never see me again Any day, you could decide And I know I would be alright I know I would survive I have been through a lot I will shine my light into the dark But it will never be the same It won’t be like your comforting rays That knowledge, That understanding, It hurts more than anything To know I would just have to keep going And the thought of you leaving? It scares me to death as I shine At the end of every evening - By E.V. Seegmiller -  I’m sorry, because you taught me better
I’m sorry, but you’ve made me strong I’m sorry, but you’ve shown me my worth Im sorry, you you taught me how to stand up for myself I’m sorry, but you knew I was hurt I’m sorry, but you could have answered my calls I’m sorry, but you didn’t see me fall Fall into despair and ruin I haven’t felt in a long time I’m sorry, we decided to try and have a good time despite I’m sorry, but today was important I’m sorry, but I spent hours getting ready I’m sorry, but you didn’t see me crying I’m sorry, I don’t know what will happen next I’m sorry, but you’ve left my heart shattered again I’m sorry, I think I might be leaving I’m sorry, I really wanted you to come with me I’m sorry, but this time you really hurt me I’m sorry, I love you - By E.V. Seegmiller -  It is easy to fall in love with somebody in pain.
A heart worn on its sleeve is often refreshing. Experience paints colors never before seen. But so often it is forgotten that broken people come with warnings: - Diamonds forged in hell are stronger than anything, and will cut you if not held carefully, even though they mean no harm. - Skies are admired for their beauty but are daily covered in clouds and often drowned in storms. The wind is fierce in a hurricane, and it can freeze you out, if you don’t wear a coat, even if it wishes anything but to be alone. - Tears are poetic and filled with sincerity, but mascara can stain your favorite shirt, a sacrifice must be made in order to offer that shoulder of support. - Rainbows are always noteworthy but only made because colors blurred. The lines are not clear unless you are the one doing the drawing. - The moon is beautiful but littered in craters and only full once a month. You cannot expect a bright light all the time, it’s unfair to hate the moon for the rotation of the sun. - Even the smartest people cannot solve a problem they don’t know exists. Hiding the truth will never make it hurt less. Loving a broken person is a blurry, colorful, chaotic mess. It is rarely perfect, rarely poetic, the reality is quite abysmal when you look at it. Do not love a broken person unless you have read the warning signs. Do not love a broken person if you can’t handle the entire package. You are not evil, but an innocent who was reckless and unprepared for what was inside. I’m so sorry you got lost in my blurry skies. <Oil on Canvas> - By E.V. Seegmiller -  Sometimes I wonder
If they can see me start to crumble Under the crushing weight of responsibility Do they notice My greying appearance As I continue sinking? They tell me I’m strong A force of nature A metaphorical Atlas All in my own right But my joints, and my mind Are in enough pain That I can hardly sleep at night I push onward, of course I do Did I have a choice? To stop fighting? I didn’t know stopping was an option… Because it isn’t Not for somebody of my position So I trudge And carry my weight up the hill Knowing just before I reach the peak I’ll slide back into my own hell Of hospital beds And medical tests And doctors apologizing for giving me more questions than answers again I just wonder If they know my statue of character That their pinnacle of strength Their image of resilience Is crumbling With nobody to help me. - By E.V. Seegmiller -  God, I love that you don’t know a damn thing about me
That you can’t see my agony That we can play around in this fantasy I wonder how long I can go Before the truth demands to be told Before I’m exposed Before my origins unfold And when they do, When I’m open and vulnerable, Will you stay? Will you pull me close? Or will you forget about me like a drunken dream How many people will I lose because of the consequences from a tragic backstory - By E.V. Seegmiller -  I wonder if anybody else felt their world split
When the words left his lips. “They’re more emotionally independent. They’ve only called home once since they’ve been gone.” I wonder if anybody else even heard it I wonder if they even noticed. It’s funny you say that, considering it’s only been a couple months. I did the same thing, spoke only in letters written in spare moments in between, and I was going through something a hell of a lot harder than they are But I’m not supposed to compare Because that would be unfair Unfair to put me and all my body’s scars up against their stability Put all my hard earned medals and awards, my diplomas and scholarships, up against that certificate That would be unfair to all of you Because The truth would be too easy to see Of course they have emotional independence. Their needs were met While I was left to drown in waves of hurt and emotion While I was dealt fists to teach lessons They were given guidance and meds While I starved and struggled and pushed myself They were given understanding and support and help While I was busy running on a broken leg to try and earn your face in the crowd of my supporters, to see you smiling and proud They merely have to exist to win your crown So yes, I’m emotionally dependent I developed a disorder to match those wounds But you already knew that, didn’t you? And yes, I have issues We’ve had this conversation too I do the devil’s work with a lighter and substance use Sometimes I wonder if I ever hid the truth Or maybe I stopped trying to convince unbelievers After all my tears fell on deaf ears Or maybe nobody ever cared enough to notice Nobody that could help, anyway God, how many battles do I have to fight Before these comments stop keeping me up at night Before these comments stop being spoken into life Before they realize That inaction and complacency Is a choice - By E.V. Seegmiller -  She has a smile that makes you blush
Hair that glows in the sun Her personality fits every party She's got something for everybody So, they haunt her and taunt her and treat her like meat They howl and holler begging for a treat Heaven forbid she not let them feed They get angry, when left hungry When she doesn't give them her skin They get aggressive sending messages Tell her that if she doesn't give up her sex They will ensure she never wins. They will give her free drinks until she says she doesn't want it to go far They will open her doors until she says she does want to be closer And as heartbreaking as it is, she knows If she does not look the part If she doesn't say her lines in cue She will never have her shot in the dark She is a prize to ogle an object over which to haggle She must barter with her predators and banter with their hearts leading them on just a little Because should she reject them They will leave her covered in scars Pretty privilege costs your humanity I am no longer a person I am simply "pretty". By E.V. Seegmiller  I often find myself jealous of the oceans
For the way the waves can crash without being accused of causing commotion The way she can rage and storm without being called dramatic The way she can howl and scream and still be admired for the way she glistens Nobody ever leaves her No matter how bad the storms get I'm quite jealous of that. By E.V. Seegmiller |
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