it bled in again,
choking the lights to a dull gray—
predictably lame,
with broken teeth
to gnaw frayed scabs
like grinding old gum.
the silence roaring like white noise,
crawling through me,
carving old words into my stomach,
predictably lame syllables
hissing like searing wounds.
until—predictably lame—
stupid tears burst forth
stealing my breath
reminding me:
doing nothing gets nothing.
so do nothing again
and get nothing again—
but I am so damn tired
of choking on it.
6/100
For the next 100 days, I’ll be writing and posting a poem every day. I hope you’ll follow along.
Bridgette Tales 
This… makes this piece a gut-punch of a poem:
“stupid tears burst forth
stealing my breath
reminding me:
doing nothing gets nothing.
so do nothing again
and get nothing again—
but I am so damn tired
of choking on it.”
Very well written and emotionally jarring, Bridgette!
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Thanks. I’m back to journaling everyday and I’m having some big feels.
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Like that last stanza, Bridgette.
I’m well aware of days like those.
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Thanks. I’m journaling again and it’s kicking up some stuff I don’t exactly want to face.
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I hear you. It can be rough to look directly at such things to put them in their proper place.
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This is raw, unfiltered, and deeply evocative. Your repetition of “predictably lame” becomes more than a phrase—it transforms into the voice of self-doubt that so many people quietly wrestle with. The imagery is striking, especially “the silence roaring like white noise” and “carving old words into my stomach,” creating an emotional intensity that lingers long after the final line.
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I appreciate your words. It’s hard when you see yourself repeating patterns over and over. Growth is so uncomfortable.
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A haunting piece of writing. The imagery is raw and unsettling, yet it never feels gratuitous. It gives tangible form to emotional paralysis and the exhausting cycle of self-awareness without escape. The unflinching honesty of the final line struck me hard.
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Thank you. I’m really struggling to find my way out of tired old patterns. I’m glad the final lines resonated with you too. May we both find paths forward.
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I agree with trE, big feels indeed.
Do hope you are OK 🤗
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Thanks. I am okay, just tired of being stuck in the same place.
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The feeling of being stuck isn’t good Bridgette. Does getting about with your camera can help? Maybe time for a holiday
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It does help. I’m headed to the ocean next week so that will certainly help.
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Have loads of fun and take lots of photos. Going by yourself?
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I’ll be with my sister, her husband, and my nephew. A few friends might pop in too, as it’s only a few hours drive. I’ll make sure to carve writing and photography time out daily.
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It felt like pushing through past patterns of self doubt. Powerful poem.
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I’m so glad it felt powerful to you. Writing daily again is proving an emotional experience.
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This really hangs together well, Bridgette! It also reminds me of that opening story in your book. FWIW, I think it’s preferable to fear no one will like the words that *might* be worthwhile than to think EVERYONE is going to like words which are routinely lame. (says the English teacher who had to break it to some kids that they had just written….not well.)
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Love your take! I’m not sure why that phrase stuck in my head, but starting to write again means facing moments of tremendous doubt. And I agree! It’s better to worry nobody will care and to try to write something which speaks to me, than to be delusional and super proud for no reason. Lame!
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