Moss and Mushrooms

You're always writing a poem

The title is a quote from my sister that made me very happy. A joyful/hopeful collection.
TW: substance/addiction mention (past tense, hopeful context)

Yellow
I put on my favorite outfit, a pair of brown dress pants that never fit quite right, I layer a maroon sweater with a white collar and step into my classroom.
My heart is racing but I know I am teaching a lesson on something I know quite a bit about, I am somewhat of an expert if I do say so myself.
There's a pretty girl with dark brown skin and curly black hair. She is wearing a pastel pink pleated skirt and a light blue sweater. A pale young man with wavy light brown hair enters the room dressed in a similar fashion to my own. The classroom slowly becomes more vibrant as students trickle in.
I begin to turn on the projector and it makes the same clicking sound it always does. The projector is old and tired but it does what it needs to do, the screen flashes the lesson I was born to teach. I become the only person that exists in this crowded room. The title read "How to make yourself miserable." Maybe my students laughed or gave each other a funny look of some sort, I didn't care enough to notice.
"Today I will teach you how to make yourself miserable, this is something I am very passionate about and well versed in."
"A key factor in creating your own misery is to tell yourself that you are different, that you are a distinct entity unlike the rest. Tell yourself that you've never met anyone who feels the exact same way you do, never cease to remind yourself that the person who understands you does not exist. Separate yourself in any way you can, keep a list of items to remind you that you are not like those in your surroundings. Keep that list in your front pocket but also have it memorized, mill it over in your mind so as to not let yourself forget. Know that they, and by they I mean anyone and everyone, would never love you if they really knew you."
"Everyone has something that happened that left them aching, maybe you have a few stories that left you with a sick feeling in your stomach or ones that resulted with sympathetic looks when told. Do yourself a favor and never forget that, never let it go, tell yourself the story over and over again, live in what happened, see it unfold over and over again."
"Know in your heart that you can make any good moment excruciatingly painful. It could always be better, but better in a way you will never reach. It could remind you of something that hurt, there is always a way to hold onto it, there are hundreds of thoughts to entertain to be sure to soil any happy moment"
"The main takeaway is to let in consume you, think about it endlessly, listen to songs that feel like getting hit by a truck, write poems about it, read books and watch videos about it, never let it leave you and it will fester, fold in on itself, and reach new heights. You will think you've hit rock bottom but you can always go lower."
I have forgotten that I am in a classroom, I have forgotten that other people exist entirely until the pretty girl raises her hand and asks me "But why would you want to do that to yourself." In that moment I saw something I had not seen before.
I walk into my office and sit in my desk chair, I stare at the ugly ceiling and realize that these narratives were internally generated, no one told me these stories, I fed them to myself and regurgitated them endlessly in a suffocating cycle of purging and consumption. No one and nothing made me this way, I made me this way, and I am the only person who can unlearn the lessons I taught myself.
I spent the holiday break slowly pulling out the thread I had sewn into everything, the thread that wove the fabric of every item in my closet, all my pillows and blankets, and every stuffed toy I leaned on for comfort.
I listened to old love songs or music from the 1970s. I thought about things that felt good to sit with. I wrote happy poems. I talked about things that felt light and yellow. I enjoyed moments with family and friends. I picked daisies and put them in jars. I took photos of things I want to remember. I told myself other stories.
I walked back into my classroom in early January with a new lesson, a lesson I had resting within me waiting to be told, a lesson that was far more important than the one I had been living before. "In today's lesson I am going to show you how to let yourself be happy."
My students looked relieved, some of them even smiled, the girl with dark skin flashes me a grin and I can see her bright white teeth cheering me on.
"When people talk to you, focus on the words they use rather than the thoughts you entertain afterwards. Think about all the little ways they say "I love you." Realize that you are not different, not at all. Realize that they accepted you, not just because they adore you but because they know you like they know themselves."
"You've been through a lot, as has everyone else has. If you take a moment to stop thinking about what happened you'll realize that where you plant your feet is a place worth being and a place worth staying."
"You'll begin to realize that all these bad moments were not what they seemed, it will sink into the dirt that holding onto the weight of what it was is not necessary."
"You'll find the joy in every moment, a song that means something to you, a line of poetry that holds you, laughing with someone whom you adore, another passion that burns like a fire at the pit of your stomach traveling into your chest, you'll get what you were praying for, you will have moments in which you realize you have found what you were looking you."
"You will live in bliss, you feel a yellow light from within your chest, you'll let happiness into your home."

Letter to them
I am thinking of you quite a bit tonight, as I sometimes do. I don't know where you're at today but wherever you may find yourself, I hope it is warm.
There are hundreds of seeds in which I've planted my little hopes for you but the tree I pray for the most is your happiness. I kneel in front of it with my hands folded together and recite a letter.
I know you have lived a stormy life, I know that you are searching for an internal summer and if you have anything I hope you have that.
You often spoke of viewing yourself as rotten or fundamentally unlike you should be, I never saw that in you and I await the day you see yourself as good.
I hope you keep sharing a bed with that boyfriend of yours and counting his heart beat. I hope you keep loving him like he loves you.
I hope you find the passion to do those things that felt insurmountable, I know you were too tired to leave your bed and for that I don't blame you, I cannot wait to see you excited.
I hope you're sober, that you live a life that doesn't need a chemical con-job to feel breathable. I hope you know that you don't need this, that the hum of an endless craving can leave you.
Keep writing your stories, Darcy has a place in my heart, those poems you sent me were powerful, like the ones you sent me lines of.
There's so much I want to tell you, so many big and little things, often I will enjoy a moment and wonder about how I would tell you.
I have continued to write poems and sometimes short stories. The poems are about a warm and sunny life. I want to learn more and do better. I started dictionary poetry again, I cannot wait to show you. I am learning more about these things. I bought that book you told me about. Poetry is becoming more intertwined with me everyday.
I got a job! It's fluffwork, my coworkers are nice and I can listen to poetry podcasts while I wash the dishes.
Two weeks ago I picked up a golden chip for ten months sober. I feel more like myself than I ever have. I don't miss it, I never thought I would be able to say that, I'm sure you can recall those nights. I never thought I would find my way out of the hole and today it is mere hindsight. Thank you for being there when I could not see my way above ground.
Do you remember when I told you about asking that boy out? Me and the boy I told you about have one year together, I love him a little more every day for one hundred different reasons.
Those memories I told you so much about don't ache like they once did, they do not feel like the definition of what I am, it's not the heaviness in my shoulders it once was.
I realized that being in pieces does not mean I am broken. I told my family about it, and a couple other people too. I love every part of me.
I remember sending you lyrics to a song, I told you about how I felt that way as an addict who was pushing everyone out. I belted the lyrics in the crowd sober, in that moment things made sense in a way they hadn't before.
There's so many little things I want to tell you. My sponsor told me I am becoming sane. I am obsessed with another actor and never seem to be quiet about it. I bought a few more stuffed animals.
It is strange to check my phone without a message from you. It is strange to know you saw me at my worst and not yet be able to tell you about Sunday season.
I want you to know that I am breathing in a real way, that life feels better than it ever has. I want you to know that I hope that you find what you are looking for.

Dreams of February
A couple nights ago I had a dream about taking a stroll through someone's medicine cabinet, they had name brand pills and I left with a few in my pocket in case I wanted them later.
Last week I had a dream in which I told myself I wasn't an alcoholic, I proved that to myself by drinking alone in a Walmart parking lot.
I dream about the questioning, the acquisition, the consumption or the choice not to.
Last night I had a dream that I was sitting somewhere sunny and I told a few people I was sober, they seemed eager and they asked me my sobriety date.
"Mine's February eighth."
He looks at me with the biggest grin on his face "Mines the 13th!"

Thank you letter
Thank you for guiding me, thank you for letting me survive the drowning and letting me live to see the shore.
I didn't think I would live to see the end of it, I thought I was going to die in the water, today I look at the ocean from the shore.
Thank you for showing me how to feel peace, joy, and passion.
I realize that those worries were nothing more than worries, I feel a yellow light in my heart, I do not struggle to do the things that set me ablaze.
Thank you for the people who love me and hold me late at night.
I feel seen in a way I hadn't before, the love was always there but now I see it.
Thank you for making me feel like myself for the first time in my whole life.
I have this sense of being what I need to be.
Thank you for poetry, thank you for dictionaries and books.
I read a little bit more, I am learning new words, I am letting this into my life a little bit more every day.
Thank you for getting me sober.
I didn't think I stood a chance against this, that this would be the thing that takes me, but I don't need a bag or bottle to fill me.
Thank you for the toys and leather bags.
I adore the stuffed animals and bags in which my whole life lives.
Please make me good. Please guide me into being whatever it is you want me to be. Thank you for everything.