Tuesday, December 28, 2010

Not Alone but Lonely

Family and friends surrounded.
They smiled and laughed. I looked on as an outsider.
I am watching my life unfold behind a glass window.
I see myself move from room to kitchen to door. Exit and return.
In the night I rise. I wonder thru darkness of my home and my soul.
Uneasy and unmoving.

I am watching my life unfold behind a wall.
Realizations of love blocked by bricks constructed to protect a broken heart. Thick and unbroken.
Darkness presses down.
I wonder thru the darkness of my heart.

Brown eyes plead for love. I press up against the wall. I hammer and claw.
Never alone for more than a minute. Lists ticking off in my head.
They giggle and run.
I hide.

I try to keep up. Going too fast I cannot grasp.
I reach for love and it moves from me.
I hide behind the wall. I peer through the glass.
A damaged heart.

I am watching my life unfold in a mirror.
The mirror is broken and I see myself distorted.
Beyond repair. Can the glazer fix it?
It's not me.
I look away.
I look away.

Thursday, December 9, 2010


I know I always play the victim but I promise that I do try to be strong so that it doesn't come off that way, but my strength turns into something different. It turns into anger, and I turn into a monster. Here I am, and I am so sick, sick that yes I am going to get ahead financially, but I still have to go bankrupt to do so; sick that all I do when things get rough is turn ugly rather than being humble and just saying, "Well, thank God I'm just alive with a roof over my head."

But at a certain point when I have been through so many ringers, I just want something good. Is that too much to ask? I want to marry the man I love, but I can't because I don't have money and I have to wait until I have sorted out my finances and I do have money. Well, what does that tell me...that I'm not good enough.

There was only one time in my life I actually contemplated suicide and I partially went through with it. I was 14. I have only the last year thought about it over and over again because some days the pain is too much and the failure is too embarrassing. Another form of suicide is just giving up entirely, on everything, even my relationship, and running home to my mom. I picture us growing old together, my mom and me, like in GREY GARDENS, crazy and miserable, that life treated us so horribly. I picture nursing her to her death when that day comes and I end up all alone buried in cat feces because I just stopped caring.

Everything I'm feeling is because of work. The morale dropped so low here, and my spirits even further, a lot is at stake here and I cannot simply just quit. Now if I can just say that about life in general, I will be okay.

The Victim (sorry, I am not proud to say it)