you can’t trust a stranger with your truth
you get fed up of speaking so much
and listening to so little. you can ask
a question and it turns into an accusation.
you can guess his name, but he changes
the letters on you. you can tell him
i love you
he’ll stare at you
as if you should not have said that
and when you turn your back
i love you
years later, and you will wonder
does he even mean it
is he saying that to shut me up?
you can love him
so much the ache keeps you up at night.
you can stare at his photo all you want
but his sunglasses are always on
he won’t look you in the eye,
he won’t fight for you, he won’t
make you pick. he wants you
sitting tight, never asking
where he goes, or why he only
shows you what he wants
you to know. he is happy
not having all of you.
he only wants you for an hour
don’t take it personal
he told you so
but he refuse to listen
when you should.
it’s fine now, after seven years
you finally realized
he has been telling you
the truth all along
you just didn’t pay attention.
even if it looks as if I am living my life
I am always writing in my head
about the time my hydrangeas stopped blooming and turned green
that time I waited inside the Met looking at the Greek statues and you never showed up
going to the top of Tokyo and almost barfing
your manicured hands on my pre-teen skin
the apartment number I lost my virginity in
picking you up after a meeting and having a latte on Chabanel street
Crying in a bathroom with blood on my thighs
confessing to a tombstone
never going to church except for weddings and funerals
loving you more than you ever will
expecting too much from nothing
making lists of dog bones, tablecloths and mouthwash
and still you somehow squirmed yourself into my words again
without ever trying.
My black coffee is warm, the sun is peeking.
It said 7:02. I don’t understand
how phones can answer most of my questions
except the philosophical ones of how you can
be one person with two eyes
and another with an eye in the middle. It seems
most men are like this, it’s not a surprise.
I learned it from young, but the hope keeps
rising like your hardness. I wished I never
saw you now. I wished I never knew you now.
I thought you were someone else, excuse me.
I thought you spoke my language, you never
did. You researched me, googled me, and
made my name too large in print. It’s just a
name. I’m no one special. You’re the radiohead
I think I see you everywhere, but
the truth is, all these thoughts are pointless.
My coffee is still warm and my libido
is still alive. I’m baking lemon cakes
now, I’m wearing no underwear.
I’m mentally ill now, I’m going crazy.
Aren’t you happy for me? I may even
try to kill myself for you. Wouldn’t
you love to have a trophy of all
of us? Lined up and direct
telling you how we are all so crazy,
to for have fallen for you.
to call me, I blocked your number,
don’t bother to search for me, I left your city,
don’t bother to want me, move onto the one from Ottawa,
she’s closer to home. Don’t bother to create new blogs
to scare me, it only makes me think you’re insane.
Don’t bother to come here, my city is dead.
Don’t bother to pretend, I see through your
disguise. Don’t bother to text me, I delete
and forget. Don’t bother to read me, it’s old
trauma news. you need a new fix, a new
supply and I’m so cold now. it’s like i’m
dead, i’m not even breathing. you knew
me once, don’t bother to bring up the past,
i’ve dug a whole in the train tracks.
isn’t it better this way? i can read books
i can leave my phone under a car seat
i can stop caring, looking, being your drug
you so easily replace me, from the one one before,
after, and now. it’s the present. you better
make your move, message her, tell her
all the lies, trap her, entice her, do
your dirty deeds, it’s the only way. i can’t wait
to be forgotten. please forget me.
don’t bother to find me. i’m in a new life.
everyone is wearing them now
before this pandemic we wouldn’t even know
the truth from the lies
how lovers should understand more
how lovers should never be bored
with each other. with their skin
yet here we are in masks worn thin
and we have not even left the house.
You’re on my mind, like a song that plays
a guitar that keeps bleeding.
a flower constantly blooming
all the impossible events
like skies that cry
words that matter.
You know what I mean
when I don’t mean it.
Yet you make me feel like a coccoon
stuck in one phase
or a glass butterfly
that never changes;
a gift from my birthday
you never wrapped up.
You should have done all the things
you meant to do.
not merely talk about them
drunk one night
that doesn’t count.
I’m 50 today and what better way to celebrate than releasing my book…
A Book of Chrissyisms portrays Christina Strigas’s inner perspectives; explaining her viral quotes, popular poems, and an evolving outlook on life. Based off of reader commentary, journal entries, social media, and life, Christina depicts what it all means: being a writer, a mother, a friend, a confidant, a mentor, an editor, a teacher, and a member of society.
Part confessional and part quirk, A Book of Chrissyisms includes essays and a variety of creative writing—a fun, idiosyncratic page-turner which readers and writers can learn from, enjoy, and best of all, relate to.
Christina Strigas started working on this book for fun. She amassed some of her quotes and tweets that were popular on social media, especially on Twitter and Instagram.
It is a non-fiction book.
So many people wonder what it is like to be a writer, to be a creative person. I hope to shed some light from my perspective. The title is A Book of Chrissysisms because that is a word that best describes living in my own mind from Monday to Sunday
This book is a labor of love. In this coffee table book, I write poems, quotes, short essays, and give you my perceptions on various subjects, from public phone calls to narcissists.
M popular quotes that went viral on Twitter are all included in this book. I try to explain in a philosophical and psychological way what has helped me in her path. Creativity and blocking off people who harm you are one of the paths to self-healing. From my own experience and life, as a poet, writer, woman, and mother, I open up my eyes to the multi-dimensional mind inside all of us.
If you love poetry, quotes, and essays, this is a fun easy read for you to delve into and read over and over again, to pass along to a friend and to keep on your coffee table.
Thank you for being here and supporting my work. I appreciate it very much.
Click on the link to check it out:
I took the summer off to work on some projects. At the beginning of July, I started working on this book for fun. I was not sure when I would finish it or where I was going with it, but it somehow wrote itself. I amassed some of my quotes and tweets that were popular on social media, especially on Twitter and Instagram.
This is the cover reveal. It is a non-fiction book, based on my thoughts, poems, quotes, and essays. I hope you truly enjoy the philosophy behind the book.
So many people wonder what it is like to be a writer, to be a creative person. I hope to shed some light from my perspective. The title is A Book of Chrissysisms because that is a word that best describes living in my own mind from Monday to Sunday.
I am aiming to publish this book on my 50th birthday, in September.
Let me know what you think of the book cover.
Peace & Love,
Expectation will ruin your life.
I wrote that because most people have these unrealistic expectations of their loved ones when they know that they have limitations. I can’t expect my husband to take out the trash when he never does. I can’t be disappointed in my book sales when I don’t promote myself like I need to. I can’t expect my friends to read my mind when I run out of restaurants upset. I hate to feel so much. At the same time, I don’t know what it’s like to feel nothing at all. Most people can’t see the cracks in the sidewalk because they are staring at their phone. I read a whold book on a plane and had time to drink. I feel that expectations should be kicked away as far away from reality as possible. Paths have a way of turning into gravel and detour signs are more prevalent now more than ever.
I am working on a book, a journal, a new life.
Chapters don’t need headings all the time.
Life needs to be unpredictable at times.
people don’t disappear
they brighten up and write poems
on the other side of the sky
wait for you to decipher
They bury the flowers
you planted and eat your leftover soup
even if living with the dead was hard
their life in your hands
is as comparable
as empty hands and brick walls.