I can't remember when I wrote this, but I think it was in high school.
Darkness surrounds-
Yet I live.
I cry to heave
Yet I'm not heard.
I curse towards hell
And all breaks loose.
Breath runs away-
Sight begins to fade-
Feeling is no more.
I cry to be loved
And arms hold me.
Feeling your supernatural
Peace is all I feel
And seeing your supernatural
Light is all I see
breathing your power
Is all I breathe.
You brought me back
And keep me close
To protect and love.
Wednesday, August 20, 2008
Hating the Good Life?
I'm trying to figure something out. Well, actually I've been working on it for the last couple of months at least. How can someone be happy and miserable at the same time? How can someone feel heartbroken and happy simultaneously? How can I feel so lonely when I know I am not? Why do I feel this way when I do not want to feel like this? Let me lay it all on the line here.
I have a good life. I'm in a good marriage that has overcome many struggles. We may be in a rut right now, but it's still a good marriage. And I love him. Probably too much. I have two sons that are absolutely amazing. My eight year old is so smart, witty, and sensitive. Practically a mini-me. My two year old...(well, he'll be 2 in 3 weeks)...my heart soars when he hugs me. He's so damn funny too. My family is great. They have been a tremendous support lately. I have a great job that supports my family while I am slowly plugging away at starting my own business with my best friend. My friends, the extremely few I have, are the best I have ever had. They are my family as well.
Even as I write this, I think to myself, how can someone feel so sad, alone, and unsure when they have what I have? I used to think it was "hormonal" or "stress", but when those subsided, the misery stayed. Some people tell me to relax or have time alone. Well, that's when it's the worst. The more I relax or have time alone, the more I think on it. I think that's why I stay so busy or drink. The busier I am, the less time I have to think. The more shitfaced I get, the less I have to think. Some people tell me to talk about it. How can I talk about it when I'm not really sure about why I feel this way? Plus I feel that people have their own problems, they don't want to hear mine either. And I've shown them that everything is just fine for so long, that I somehow feel I'd "disappoint" or "let down" people. So, I guess that just leaves me with professional help, which I can't afford right now.
I never thought I'd feel this way. Unsure, alone, self-conscious, worried, and sad. I used to be so confident, didn't care if people wanted to be with me or not, didn't give a flying flip what people thought or did, only worried about things that mattered within a short time frame, and probably the happiest person around. I know that being a mother and an adult brings it's own worries, stress, and difficulties, but I just never thought I'd feel ...such despair.
I have a good life. I'm in a good marriage that has overcome many struggles. We may be in a rut right now, but it's still a good marriage. And I love him. Probably too much. I have two sons that are absolutely amazing. My eight year old is so smart, witty, and sensitive. Practically a mini-me. My two year old...(well, he'll be 2 in 3 weeks)...my heart soars when he hugs me. He's so damn funny too. My family is great. They have been a tremendous support lately. I have a great job that supports my family while I am slowly plugging away at starting my own business with my best friend. My friends, the extremely few I have, are the best I have ever had. They are my family as well.
Even as I write this, I think to myself, how can someone feel so sad, alone, and unsure when they have what I have? I used to think it was "hormonal" or "stress", but when those subsided, the misery stayed. Some people tell me to relax or have time alone. Well, that's when it's the worst. The more I relax or have time alone, the more I think on it. I think that's why I stay so busy or drink. The busier I am, the less time I have to think. The more shitfaced I get, the less I have to think. Some people tell me to talk about it. How can I talk about it when I'm not really sure about why I feel this way? Plus I feel that people have their own problems, they don't want to hear mine either. And I've shown them that everything is just fine for so long, that I somehow feel I'd "disappoint" or "let down" people. So, I guess that just leaves me with professional help, which I can't afford right now.
I never thought I'd feel this way. Unsure, alone, self-conscious, worried, and sad. I used to be so confident, didn't care if people wanted to be with me or not, didn't give a flying flip what people thought or did, only worried about things that mattered within a short time frame, and probably the happiest person around. I know that being a mother and an adult brings it's own worries, stress, and difficulties, but I just never thought I'd feel ...such despair.
Thursday, August 7, 2008
Bus Stop Fall (Spring 2000)
Following is derived from a writing exercise to focus on voice or perspective as it's known outside of the writer's world.
Bill looked up from the ground and stared straight into the eyes of some gorgeous blonde, who just happens to be chuckling to herself behind perfectly manicured nails. Bob knew she was laughing about his trip down the stairs. This blonde helped him to his feet, complimented his tie, and introduced herself as Rachel Stevens, his new boss. Then she offered to buy him a cup of coffee.
_____________________________________________________________________
Charlie chuckled to himself as some moron missed the last step off the bus and lands flat on his face. As a Greyhound bus driver, Charlie sees this thing happen all the time, but this time that moron gets help from some blondie that was just laughing at him. The last thing Charlie saw as he closed the tinted door was the moron and the blondie walking into the gas station together. Damn, some guys have that kind of luck. Fucking moron
_____________________________________________________________________
After chuckling to herself at the guy tipping down the stairs, she feels like an ass when she realizes it's her co-worker, Bill. As Rachel helps Bill up to his feet, she thinks, "How can such an intelligent man not grasp the easy art of walking?" She tells him she likes his bold, blue tie, which she really does. She knows Bill is embarrassed, so she offers to buy him a cup of coffee.
___________________________________________________________________
Greg laughs to himself as he saw some typical guy in a suit fall off the bus. "Shit, he must feel like a fool," thought Greg. As he rang up two Budweisers for a customer, Greg saw some hot, blonde babe walk over to the guy in the suit with a smile on her face and help that guy up. "Man," thought Greg, "I wish it were that easy to pick chicks up."
Bill looked up from the ground and stared straight into the eyes of some gorgeous blonde, who just happens to be chuckling to herself behind perfectly manicured nails. Bob knew she was laughing about his trip down the stairs. This blonde helped him to his feet, complimented his tie, and introduced herself as Rachel Stevens, his new boss. Then she offered to buy him a cup of coffee.
_____________________________________________________________________
Charlie chuckled to himself as some moron missed the last step off the bus and lands flat on his face. As a Greyhound bus driver, Charlie sees this thing happen all the time, but this time that moron gets help from some blondie that was just laughing at him. The last thing Charlie saw as he closed the tinted door was the moron and the blondie walking into the gas station together. Damn, some guys have that kind of luck. Fucking moron
_____________________________________________________________________
After chuckling to herself at the guy tipping down the stairs, she feels like an ass when she realizes it's her co-worker, Bill. As Rachel helps Bill up to his feet, she thinks, "How can such an intelligent man not grasp the easy art of walking?" She tells him she likes his bold, blue tie, which she really does. She knows Bill is embarrassed, so she offers to buy him a cup of coffee.
___________________________________________________________________
Greg laughs to himself as he saw some typical guy in a suit fall off the bus. "Shit, he must feel like a fool," thought Greg. As he rang up two Budweisers for a customer, Greg saw some hot, blonde babe walk over to the guy in the suit with a smile on her face and help that guy up. "Man," thought Greg, "I wish it were that easy to pick chicks up."
The Scar (Spring 2000)
This was derived from a writing exercise that we had to describe as much as possible in 5 minutes. I plan to finish this someday.
Jacob was afraid. He was afraid to come out in the daylight and let people see it. This was his one private thing...his secret. Jacob had a scar. It wasn't a physical scar, but it was so emotionally deep that it seemed physical to Jacob.
He first started drawing his scar when he was ten years old. The drawing started because some shrink his mom was boinking said it may help get over his shyness. Boy, that shrink was wrong.
The drawings started out like a chicken pox scar; small, round, and barely visible. As he became older, the care began to look like something on Frankenstein. A tiny strip of skin with a row of tiny stitches. Year year, this scar became more and more grotesque, and Jacob became more self-conscience about it. Almost as if the scar had become a physical manifestation on his body instead of something folded up and in his back pocket. Even though the scar was a figment of his imagination, Jacob began to sequester himself in his own home more and more. Afraid...afraid to show himself to the world.
Jacob was afraid. He was afraid to come out in the daylight and let people see it. This was his one private thing...his secret. Jacob had a scar. It wasn't a physical scar, but it was so emotionally deep that it seemed physical to Jacob.
He first started drawing his scar when he was ten years old. The drawing started because some shrink his mom was boinking said it may help get over his shyness. Boy, that shrink was wrong.
The drawings started out like a chicken pox scar; small, round, and barely visible. As he became older, the care began to look like something on Frankenstein. A tiny strip of skin with a row of tiny stitches. Year year, this scar became more and more grotesque, and Jacob became more self-conscience about it. Almost as if the scar had become a physical manifestation on his body instead of something folded up and in his back pocket. Even though the scar was a figment of his imagination, Jacob began to sequester himself in his own home more and more. Afraid...afraid to show himself to the world.
Tink's Diary (Spring 2000)
Dear Diary,
I can't believe he brought that bitch here of all places! This is my home too! First, he forces me to give up some of MY fairy dust to sprinkle the "Darling" brats so he he can teach them how to fly. Then, he brings her to my home! John and Michael I absolutley adore. Their only fault is that they are related to her. I know Peter doesn't love her. He just enjoys showing off. He acts the same way around those stupid mermaids. I just hate that Wendy. She probably doesn't eve care for Peter. She's just probably one of those girls who likes to have guys who have special talents. You know, like flying, detachable shadows, and never-ending youth. She won't last. She doesn't understand him like I do. I understand his world. I can be with him forever and never grow old like him. She doesn't understand the magic of his life. I can take care of him and love him like he needs. He can't handle some human broad. She's not magical. That's me. I'm the magic one.
Tink
I can't believe he brought that bitch here of all places! This is my home too! First, he forces me to give up some of MY fairy dust to sprinkle the "Darling" brats so he he can teach them how to fly. Then, he brings her to my home! John and Michael I absolutley adore. Their only fault is that they are related to her. I know Peter doesn't love her. He just enjoys showing off. He acts the same way around those stupid mermaids. I just hate that Wendy. She probably doesn't eve care for Peter. She's just probably one of those girls who likes to have guys who have special talents. You know, like flying, detachable shadows, and never-ending youth. She won't last. She doesn't understand him like I do. I understand his world. I can be with him forever and never grow old like him. She doesn't understand the magic of his life. I can take care of him and love him like he needs. He can't handle some human broad. She's not magical. That's me. I'm the magic one.
Tink
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