Dear My March

Dear March,

Sometimes months move so quickly that suddenly it is the end and I have forgotten to write this. March, I can sum you up this year as a blur. I had so much going on, and it has not died down yet. You are kind of an awkward stage of the year March, and I mean that in the nicest way possible…I promise.

When I think of you, the only thing that comes to mind is the colour red, and the birthdays contained in March. I do not really know why I think of red. March has just always been red to me.

For the birthdays, it is two of my close family and two of my friends and one of my not friend. March is a busy month of giving myself to people. Dedicating time for them, their present, and spending time with them. It never really bothered me until this year when I had so much else to do. I could not dedicate the same amount of time to them as I would usually do. March, this made me feel kind of shitty. What is worse, is that I felt so bad that it made me feel so bad and that I was made to feel bad. March, I wish I could spend you with people I adore.

However, March, I had to be selfish this month. This is something that I do not feel comfortable doing. Especially in a month that never felt like it belonged to me. I booked holidays and spent nights in working on myself and my grades. I felt really good about it.

I made a lot of friends this month March. I got so much closer with my class because of late night bonding in our computer lab preparing for assignments, presentations, interviews, and demonstrations together. It felt nice. It felt so good to talk to people in the exact same situation as I am in. It felt like home in those labs and I do not think any other time in my college experience could compare to the camaraderie and companionship in that room. I am so sad it only happened in my last few weeks. But I am so happy that it did happen.

For the first time in a long time I felt like I was part of a team. I was not being dragged along or controlling anything. My strengths were used along with the strengths of others and I felt so happy in college. I felt strong. I stood up in the front of my class who all stood up in front of me and we told each other our passion projects we have been working on since September. I did not feel like I was talking to a group of eyes. I was talking to my team who only wanted me to do well.

I can confidentially say I did well, even if my results do not agree, I know I did well. I had a team ready to help and prompt me if I needed it, just like I had prompted and helped them.

March, I have never felt like you were mine. But this year I found a home in you. That was even better than any present I gave anyone.


I think we’re even now,

Eimear xo

P.S. It’s now my birthmonth

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How sweet is it
To be content
With a cup of tea
Feeling whole
In a warm place
With warm people
Where the mood is chill
And I feel safe
From all the burdens
That come from the outside world


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I wish I could do more

Each moment that I can
I’ll give you my everything

Without hesitating
Or being asked
I’ll do the dishes
Or hoover somewhere

If it saves you a moment
That you’ll choose
To put into something else
Probably to help me

I wish I could give you more
Because you have given me everything
Without ever asking
Or asking for appreciation

I’ll try to help
But it will never be enough
To thank you for everything


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Sea blues and flaming browns

I believe there is more to the eye
Than just the eye
Filled with deep sea blues or flaming browns
Captivating each person who stares


Eye colour is lazy when describing someone
The blue eyes you see might have never seen an ocean
Their eyes do not reflect the sky like the sea does
Nor does their anger reflect the vicious waves

The brown eyes you see might see more rain than sun
Who paints in vibrant colours
From the natural green world
Growing outside and around them

When you look at someone
It is not the colour you notice
Or what you want to look at
You have to look behind the eye

It is their stare
Either filled with
Confidence or cautiousness
That genetics could never take credit for


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You never knew why you were never my friend
I could spot your inner you
Clouded by an aura that enticed people to you
Confident vibes given off
But I only ever saw you as mean

I know you tried to get close
I know you know I didn’t want to

Very subtle ways
That you weren’t used to
Trying to shake off the feeling
Of not being liked for the first time

You never impressed me
Much to your dismay
Of using big words
So others would deem you important

But big words are viscous
Laughing at those who didn’t know
Bluffing their way to get your affection

I know what it’s like to be attracted to a personality
Letting go of all gut instinct
Unintentionally being passive and naive
Vulnerable to be taken advantage of
I never knew how people felt that way for you

I watched how you acknowledged that power
And liked it too much

I’ve never been your friend
I’ve never told you why
Keeping my head above the water
Before I get attacked
By your viscous words
Or people pleasers who would believe anything
Just because you told them to


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A New Beginning

I’ve always paid attention to my dreams. I’ve written a similar post to this just on my fascination with dreams.
For as long as I can remember, I have kept dream journals that soon turned into notes on my phone and always loved discussing dreams with anyone who would talk about their.

I look back on these journals and notes with fondness, remembering how each one felt and recalling it. However, my dreams have never been too serious. A few light ones have stuck with me that pushed my imagination or were just funny etc., but recently I had one that I can’t seem to forget. I can recall each moment like I’m still living in it because … well I can.

Brief summary – I’m in the middle of the road where cars are turning into a roundabout, but I’m not in the way at all. No one seems angry but everyone seems to be in a worried rush like they’re driving away from something. Someone calls to me “we need to do it now” and I call back “is there any other way?” and the other person quickly says back “we don’t have time for another way”…. and with a deep breath I command the world to stop.The cards slow to a halt, all phones and technology shut down and people stare in disbelief as the only world they know is shutting down just because I yelled it to. But after it does shut down, I have this huge sense of relief and a crushing weight is lifted.

A woman comes out of a ‘court house like church building’ to welcome me to “The New Beginning”, and I’m brought in to a bright light building to get a tour.

So maybe I’m the key to unlocking a new world.

Or maybe I’m just a bit stressed.

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I’m sick of writing metaphors

I’m sick of writing metaphors
Cryptic thoughts have never been my strong point
The frustration of my reader not exactly knowing my reasons
Outweighs the feeling I have to keep my thoughts hidden
I know it works for other writers
But I never thought it worked for me

When I write about the sky I write about the stars and the galaxy
Not about the galaxy in my head
The ocean comes and goes just like my breath but I’d rather write about the sounds I hear on the beach
I could stick numerous amounts of detailed, eloquent, or revealing words to convey and reveal my vivid thoughts

But I don’t want to

Never have I thought it bothered me but I miss being

Poetry is like dessert to me
Enticing and exciting
But should not be with every meal

My thoughts are my meals
Presentation is not the most important element
But as long as it is there
And tastes satisfactory
Then I’m happy
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