Elizebeth Turnquist

I’d rather know what’s true
That to stubornly act right
I never did understand
How admitting our mistakes
Is taken as weakness
Bravery is asking for more information
Confirming what you do or don’t know

I don’t live in black and white
Fact is proven theory
But theory can be disproved
Additional minutia can be discovered
A theory can be proven again

The details make a difference
My apple may be green
Your apple may be red
Were both talking about apples
And yet one is tart and the other sweet

If I take a beat
Admit to my limited scope
Review my assumptions
Ask about your apple
Maybe I could learn
Maybe we could communicate

If I still think you’re wrong
I can always build my case
Show the proof of my position
Or I could choose to back off
Because it’s not my responcibility
To make you right

Knowing what’s true often means
Admitting I’m could be wrong
And being open to learning right.

No once chooses their trauma
Or wants to be always set apart
The idea that rape is a lie
Or disability is a lie
Or inequality is a lie
Is a misunderstanding
A lack of exposure
A lack of experience
We disenfranchised
Are seen in extremes
Either saintly courage
Or sinful weakness
The extremes make us seperate
Place us outside the norm
Some of us wear our label proudly
To refute the silence
To refuse the loneliness
Despite a lack of reward
Making it known is judged harshly
When, in truth, attention seekers are rare
But are no less damaged
Because no one chooses their trauma
No one chooses to always feel apart

If we are lucky find self-acceptance
We find others who make us feel normal
We make the best of what we didn’t choose.

Money won’t make you happy
But poverty will make you miserable
Struggling to survive is the worst
But excess is too much
The median is where we do best

People can’t make you happy
But loneliness will tear you down
We are hard wired for companionship
And, yet, can feel lonely in a crowd
We need those deep connections

Priveledge can’t bring happiness
Any more than being disenfranchised
Most of us carry some burden
We can try to see what we have
and acknowledge what we dont.

The lesson I learn, everyday,
Is happiness isn’t a destination
It’s bright moments on the journey
We can adjust our attitude
We can embrace fleeting moments
We can choose to recognize our happy

The grass is greenest where we water it.

Words hurt
Like thinly sliced wounds
Like a punch to the gut
Like an unexpected slap

It may be surface
My analogies of pain
But words wounds linger
They are slow to heal

I don’t deserve those words
The subtle little stabs
The mean biting jabs
The outright ridicule

I didn’t enter into
A loving relatinship
For the mean spirited banter
Who would make that a goal?

I want the sweet words
The kind expression
The gentle forgiving
The abject understanding

I am no one’s punching bag
I refuse to launder your frustration
I will not accept your ridicule
It’s not my job to suffer you

If that’s too much to ask
I cometely understand
I can move on
You can go to hell.

“You try so hard to be liked”
I’ve heard this before
A passing observation
Usually given without mallace
But with an undertone of judgement

Translation: “Stop carring what others think”
The funny thing is I don’t
I expect that people don’t like me
I’m a wierd girl in a nomalized world
I don’t have a problem with liking myself
But I’m realistic about others perception

From an early age I was loved
Mother reinforced my self-worth
I am priveledged with self-esteem
My self-love is close to narcissism
How is it that people don’t see that?

I think what they see is that I’m nice
They hear me passing love around
Because love is easy for me
I’m not looking for external self worth
I’m looking for external acceptance

Does this mean I care what others think?
Of course! Who doesnt! I’m curious.
Does this mean I will change for others?
Not for strangers. Not for aquaintaces.
But relationships require compromise

I care what the people I love think
I want to know they accept me
I don’t want to do things that hurt them
And I can change minor parts of myself
I’m open to conpromise and negotiation

I suppose some of what I do
Is try to give external self worth
Which is kinda silly, I know
I can’t make someone love themself
If you must judge, aim for this futility

Dont mistake me, I dont I like everyone
I’m choosy about who I share myself with
I don’t think everyone can be my friend
I don’t WANT that many friends
I just want the people I love to feel loved

I smile at at strangers so they’ll smile
But I don’t waste more than a smile
I consider my attention valuable
Investement of my true self is rare
I “try hard” with the ones I “truly love.”

Some wounds stay with us
We carry them around
Covered by scar tissue
To show the battles survived

Sometimes those scars ache
Touch the skin near and we cry
Seems like we’ll never stop hurting
But time makes scars shrink
The pain is less intense
The longer we survive

Sometimes a loving touch
Can inflame the scar
Even worse than a bump or slap
But if we can push through the pain
If we can focus on the caress
Joy can speed our healing.

There is no win
No approval to be had
So often you’re wrong
Which you rarely admit

I think this is about you
You’re mad at yourself
And I’m just present
For your rampant disapproval

Why do I care?
You’re anger is so silly
So useless in its purpose
It’s not like it improves you

Except I am present
And aware of your ire
I feel it infect those around me
I feel it infect myself

The discomfort you spread
Is so fickle and unfair
I didn’t earn it
I don’t deserve it

I try not to engage
Duck my head once again
Make the best of things
Until I have other options.