Tag: Joely Ford

Self-Affirmations (Poetic Edition)

Before I do anything

I stand up

Walk to the mirror

And ask myself,

“Would the action I’m about to complete lead me to being diagnosed with female hysteria

in the early 19th century?”

If the answer is yes,

Which it typically is

I walk away 

Giving myself the reminder

I am the daughter of a witch that a man could not burn.

The Me Inside Of Me

i love the rain, but hate cloudy days

i’m a pessimistic asshole, but also a hopeless romantic

i am flawed,


afraid of being loved,

drink too much coffee,

and can never keep my mouth shut

i hate too much

i hate the color navy

i hate math 

washing my hair

disco music

and republicans


i learned to love the things that i hate,

there’s always a sunny day beyond those clouds

i am made up of flaws and that is what makes me human

without disco music, ABBA wouldn’t exist

and my favorite pair of jeans are a navy blue 

(i’m still trying to find a silver lining with math and republicans) 

i learned that there are good days and bad days

where hating everything feels so much easier than loving something

there are days where hitting rock bottom is easy

but that isn’t living,

living is learning how to love through the silver lining

it is waking up in the morning and washing your hair while singing your favorite song

it’s reading your favorite poems

it’s dancing



for a pessimist, i am growing up to be fairly optimistic

Do you know what it is like to feel like dying? (but not actually die) aka Epilepsy

It’s the feeling of sonder

(n. the realization that each random individual you see is living a life as vivid and intricate as your own—populated with their own dreams, friends, schedules, anxieties, and inherited madness)

But it isn’t poetic or profound

It’s a paralyzing feeling that snowballs into some realization that you are living a life that is no longer your own

You’re in debt to your own mind and there was no previous transaction to leave you in this crippling state and you can’t beg yourself for forgiveness because you are your own greatness weakness

And your own worst nightmare

(Can you sue yourself for fraud? Or is that just an identity crisis?)

Your body becomes this hallowed cage where a monster rattles in your ribcage 

The last real thing you can remember is someone begging to call for help 

(Was that someone me?)

It’s this feeling of feeling nothing because you don’t remember how to feel anything 

You’re alone and numb and someone is having to hold onto you and remind you how to breathe

(How the fuck can that concept be taken from you? How can you just forget to breathe?)

NOVUS Literary and Arts Journal
Lebanon, TN