All but one of these poems are not in any recognized poetry formats. At the time I first started experimenting with poetry, I really connected with the free verse form of writing poems. Many of my poems in 2001 were really just free writing thought processes. Nevertheless, it was a good exercise for me to get to the bottom of what I was feeling so strongly at the time.
I still see your face in my head. I can still feel your hand in mine…yet, it’s not there. Only in my imagination can I feel you; hold you; kiss you. Only there. I said I loved you. But what is love really? Is it the warmth and comfort I felt when I knew you were mine? Does love really leave you with this excruciating agony when you know you’ve lost them? If it is, why can’t you feel it too? You said love was foolish. Why? Is it wrong to love you? I know now that I’ve truly lost you. And from now on until forever I will never again know that I have you. No matter how my tears fall, no matter how my heart aches for only you, I will never have you. Like a discarded toy given to a random child. If I had the urge to have it again, it would be impossible. My “love” will always be there but…will you? No, you never will. And I’ll try to console myself in any way to lose my feel for you, but somehow, and some way it always returns. Why? I don’t know. My “love” will always have a space for you my…B-
Just the other day I heard you had another person you care about as you cared for me in seventh grade. It really killed me inside to know you felt this way about someone else. It seemed like just yesterday I was holding your hand and I was the only one you saw in your head. But now it’s not me anymore. Although, the thought of me may cross your mind it’s as if your memory of me is stuck far off in a deep and isolated corner of your mind and now this new and bigger picture takes up the spot I once did. I wonder if you even ever stop to think about me, even for a moment. I know I do. Not a day goes by without me thinking of what could’ve been. What if we never broke up? What if I was still that special someone in your life? I could be with a hundred other people and I truly do not believe they could compare to what I had with you. Even now, I don’t think you even care. I’m just your first, and it’ll never be me in your mind anymore. There’ll be a Megan, an Ashley, a Sara, but never again will it be me. It kills me day after day to accept this realization that you will never feel like this about me anymore. It just kills. And by knowing this, I still cannot rid you of my thoughts! Why can’t I? It’s as if I live and breathe you sometimes but depression inevitably follows when I come to my senses and see that you miss Megan or you find some girl very attractive. But why can’t it be me? Why can’t it? Is it because of all of the madness I put you through? It makes me utterly embarrassed and truly sorry to have put you through something like that. I’m so sorry. I just want…you. I need you, even if it’s just for a moment. I want to remember just for a second how it was to know you were more; to be absolutely sure you thought only of me, dreamed only of me, as I, to this day, still do. Alas you will never know. I pray you will find someone you care about as much as I care for you’ even love someone for the first time as much as I love you now. I hope that day will bring you joy beyond imagination. And yet for me it will be a tragedy. The saddest, most horrible day for me when love finds you. But I’ll live. Day by day, I’ll live and you’ll be happy with your soul mate and you will never think about me again or even have the slightest clue that I love you and feel so much more for you then I will for any other person. I’ll just have to accept it and live in misery to see you with a person I truly believe you should not be with. You should be with me…I should be with you. I’m your soulmate. But I guess you can’t see that.
I pulled the gun up to my head
and made my mommy cry.
I still cannot believe
I wanted to end my life.
My daddy asked me why I did it
and when I had no reply,
He silently broke down in front of me
and it killed me slowly inside.
To see this strong man weep before me
was really a depressing sight.
I thought, “Look at the pain you caused, Alexis.”
Why did I want to die?
I had some problems with my mom
and even now I still do.
But never again will I try
a stunt that was so cruel.
To kill myself before my mom’s own eyes.
This woman who gave me love.
Would be the greatest sin ever for anyone to commit
in the eyes of the Creator above.
And like my mom later explained
how God gave me life.
So whether I like it or not
He alone can choose whether I live or die.
I really don’t know how I should feel right now. I just have a million things running through my head right now. And when I catch hold of one complete thought, I begin to feel depressed at how sad my life is. Yes, I have friends that care but it isn’t enough. My family is there for me I know but when I try in vain to bring us closer together and make them realize the error in the way that they live, they just go back to how they were eventually, and it makes me want to scream! Mom! Why can’t you treat me with respect sometimes? I know I make you mad when I have my little attitudes but you treat me the same way sometimes. I ask you a simple question and it’s as if I told you to go to hell. Is it because I disappoint you in some way? Why are you angry with me? Jr! Why do you always have to be a grump? I know you have problems of your own but to treat someone with so much love for you in a house where you ultimately do nothing but eat and sleep, why do you seem to have something against everyone? Why do you take your anger out on us? And Gigi. Why must you scream and yell and complain all of the time? Just calm down. I wish my family could see the need of bonding that must be developed between us. We need to be closer as a family. I wish we could go for at least one day in which we would all, including me, stop our fighting and our attitudes and love each other. I know it’s so cliché but right now besides some other problems in my life, that’s what I want most in the world. Even though it’s so stupid and selfish to say, I need some other comfort besides my family and friends. I need someone I can go to when I just don’t feel like talking with my friends or family. But I guess that’s not going to happen because it’s already been three years since I’ve has someone like that that was part of my life. Maybe I’m not destined to be with someone special. Maybe I’m just not fit for that part. It hurts but I guess I’m just going to have to get through it. I guess that’s jut the part I play. Sometimes, when I look at all these couples so happy together, it hurts so much that I can’t breathe. I found myself in uncontrollable tears when I saw my friend so happy for the first time with her first boyfriend. It hurt to tag along with them to homecoming. It hurt a lot to watch all the couples slow dance. And it hurt even more to try to get involved with these guys who probably don’t even know my last name. My friend Earle told me once that I would find that someone and it would be so great. But the moment he said it I knew it just wouldn’t be the case for me. Oh well…
You laughed! I tell you how I feel about you and you laughed! You don’t even know half of the stuff I feel about you. You don’t know what I’d sacrifice for you. You don’t know how much I love you. I know I shouldn’t have expected much. I shouldn’t have expected anything at all. Why do I still cling to the things you told me? I cling to the things I hear you say, hoping that you just might be hinting at something. Hoping that you might be telling me something. Why do I still hold on to you, hoping one day you’ll stop dragging me while I cling to your feet, and pull me up and embrace me. I would relive every feeling of rejection, every time I felt isolated, every time I didn’t belong, just to be with you. I wouldn’t care if afterwards I could be with you. And yet you still don’t see how much I love you. You still laughed. Every time that reaction plays over in my mind it hurts a thousand times over. And yet, you still laughed.
I feel so insignificant. Even the most miniscule things seem to fester in my mind until my heart can no longer endure; a psychological breakdown inevitably follows. Numerous things flash through my mind; things that I laughed at; things that I later despised. Although they may not be quite accurate through the eyes of another individual, it is all crystal clear to me. Things people would never reply to as “foolish” or “crazy” or whatever-I believe. It merely began as a random thought. Then this thought plowed deeper into my rational mind and made me say to myself, “Maybe it’s true.” Then, soon after unfortunately, I believed these cruel thoughts. It didn’t even take one single comment from an individual. That of which is scary to say because the person it came from was me. Slowly I began to realize the cruelty of my insecurities came from the one person who would never intentionally bear any harm to me-myself. I alone became my enemy; my nemesis. I alone became my most despised. What is scarier is that I actually thrived upon this. These cruel words and feelings I would never share with anyone else became my friends; my most cherished pastime; my life. I sand slower into depression and I fell in love with my own demons. I began to need loneliness; to want cruelty; to love hate. And when it became overwhelming, I cried and fell even more in love with this plague of darkness. To think, it all started with a simple thought: “Maybe you aren’t pretty, Alexis.” This led to, “You aren’t pretty.” Which somehow led to, “You are insignificant.” These are just a few of my random imaginary thoughts that became my reality; it became my everything. I slowly doubted my previous beliefs; even God, which made me feel bad. I doubted the thing I could most rely upon for help and guidance-God. This made me feel the utmost remorse and caused me to fall deeper and deeper and deeper until I couldn’t take anymore. That day, that one insignificant fight, sparked a passionate flood of this depression I had and caused me to think, abnormally to me, irrationally. I tried to end it in this irrational fit with a gun. At that point, I did not care of where I went or what I did or when I would no longer breathe the air; I just wanted to rid myself of an environment that no longer mattered to me. I wanted to rid myself of family and friends that cared for me and loved me, and that I, in contrast, hated and despised. To think, this wasn’t sparked from some typical cliché: popular girls provoke outsider. This began with one thought that everyone took as a joke when I asked, “Am I pretty?”
Am I going through the same things over again? I think I like you, then I know I do, but do I really? I think you like me, then I know you do, but do you really? I saw her try to kiss you. Maybe she was just flirting. Did you back away because you wish it were me? I know I wish it were me. Bit I wonder would you have backed away from me too? Sometimes I think you like me because I try to think that you treat me differently from other girls. But then you say or do something to make me feel otherwise. Why is that? You make me feel like I’m the only one and like I’m not there all at the same time. I can identify with you so much as you can with me. We are so alike in so many ways. But, does that mean anything to you at all? Is our relationship the same as your others? Do I stand out in any way apart from the other girls you know? Sometimes I feel like I do, sometimes I don’t. I get jealous sometimes because I want to believe so much that you have feelings for only me and then you do something to make me feel as if you have feelings for another. I think you like “Michelle” sometimes just as much as I think she likes you. I though you liked me. Oh well…I guess it’ll just be another one of my past conflicts. A conflict in which I put my dignity and confidence and heart on the line. And every time I did this, I got nothing in return. But you always find a way to prove to me that I am wrong. However, as much as you prove me wrong, you prove me right. I feel so different about you. I like everything about you, no exceptions. Maybe even love…I’m not sure about that however. I know exactly how I feel about you. But the most important thing I don’t know for is whether you like me…do you?
“Things won’t get weird.” What did you really mean? At first I thought it meant one thing: you feel the same way. But now that I think about it, I have discovered that it could mean something else. Maybe “things won’t get weird” because of the fact that you may not have a problem with the fact that I like you. At this moment I can say that I more than just like you. It’s not love though but it’s definitely more than like. The more I find out about you, the more I like you. I want to tell you all of theses things so much, but I’m scared to. I’m scared of risking, yet again, my heart. I’m afraid that I’m going to say something I truly want to let you know and have it turn out badly. And because of this, every time I want to say something to you I stop myself. I try to let you into the personal aspect of my life, but I am honestly scared out of my mind to actually do it. As much as I want to tell you, I can’t because I’m too scared to. It’s not that I don’t trust you and that I think you’ll hurt me like all the others, it’s that I have been through so many things that have deteriorated my trust factor. I am incapable of trust at this moment. Maybe you’re different. I’ll only know if I start to trust you, but I don’t know if I will ever be able to. And if I do, it will take me a long time to reach that level of trust with you. I fear that it will take me too long though. I fear that you will get bored with me and not want to wait around for me to trust you. But these are only a few of my thoughts which concern you.
Sometimes I wish I had never met you. As hard as it may be for me to say this, it is somewhat true. Just think, if we had never met, it would’ve saved me all this heartache. You would never have hurt me. I would never have gotten attached to you. I would never know how much you have in common with me. I would never have gotten my hopes up when I found out you liked me too. What makes this hurt more than the others is that you are such a wonderful friend. I could look into the future of me and you and see something so great. And I know you can see it too. But there’s that one thing that’s holding you back: change. As much as it hurts me to hear the things you told me today, it makes me fall deeper into my feelings for you to know that you care about me that much to not want to hurt me in the end. I mean, you have good intentions for your reasons, right? So why do I still feel like my world is yet again being torn apart? I know you had not intended for this to happen to me, but this “fiasco” has deteriorated my trust for those of the opposite sex yet again. I don’t think that I can go through this incessant issue again. The “issue being the fact that I put my heart on the line and have it constantly broken. As much you didn’t want to be “that guy,” you were, and as much as I don’t want this to hurt, it does. I feel stupid, naïve and sad to even think that someone could like me, could want me. I’m not fit for that part, I guess. I’m not made to be loved, only hurt. Only to feel the utmost pain at anytime the opportunity comes along. That’s me…the role I play. And even though I saw that in the end, taking the initiative to pursue you was futile, I still did. So it was as much my fault as it was yours. Stupidly, I still cling to the fact that you may change your mind, even as I write this. Maybe someday you’ll just look at me and know that what we have is right. But like I said, I’m not fit for that part. I was created to feel pain, loneliness, heartache. I was made to be hurt, even by you, a person who actually cared about me. But that’s the role God chose for me so I can’t complain. I can’t complain but I can cry. I can cry and isolate myself from the world. I believe that’s what people who live my kind of life do…
It’s funny how the world can seem so perfect and structured through the eyes of a child. All that is there is innocence and purity. Nothing there that corrupts those innocent eyes. The world seems so beautiful, rich, peaceful, and full of opportunities. It seems like it was always that way. We would run and jump and play and breathe in this refreshing air full of hope and unfortunately oblivion as well. There comes a point where the hopeful aromatic scent of air becomes thicker; grayer; darker. Although the things we once thought we could do seem a little more impossible as time passes, there is still hope. However, as some grow, this hope is diminished; it deteriorates from their minds, their hearts, their souls, until finally they no longer have this hope. The vivid colors of the world they once saw as beautiful and all-bearing becomes faded an meager. The richness is hazed by the homeless; the starving. The peacefulness they saw is blinded by war, deceit, anger and hate; it is clouded by pessimistic words. These few, but seemingly many, people bring the corruption about that we all were so oblivious to in our age of innocence: out childhood years. All of the opportunities we once believed we had are slowly limited; limited to the point in which we can no longer see past the boundaries. All we know are these boundaries. We must oblige by these boundaries. These boundaries that have become our lives slowly close in more on us until we break down. Those few poor souls who had no hope ever before theses dreaded boundaries closed upon them are no longer rational. They see what no one else wants to see. They see the dark part of life. Hell, they live the dark part of life. This depression has caused them ultimate pain. The only way they know how to retaliate, to this once hopeful but now contradicting world, is to return the pain. Everything they hoped for, everything they trusted and believed, everything they relied upon was a lie. Everything they knew is nothing like what they now have. The whole world seems to contradict itself. All these morals they try to apply to their lives fade in and out; they are faded out, which is quite sad. They give in to peer pressure. They hurt, provoke and blindly hate other individuals without thinking twice. But what’s even more depressing is that these people who are looked upon with nothing but cruelty are the same children whose hopes had faded. Death, murder, violence. Those are their retaliations. And what’s even more of an outrage is that they look at these “children” with even more hate and cruelty than before. As Jesus once so eloquently said, “Those without sin cast the first stone.” But these sins are all thrown upon the shoulders of these people, who the others want to believe are the only ones with the sins. It’s funny how we condemn others for things we have done ourselves. We are so blinded from what is right we only do wrong. What we need to realize is that we need to make a difference while we still can. While that air full of hope from our childhood is still there. We can change before that air fades. But it’s funny how most people can’t see that…
Darkness. I’m alone in the corner of a room pitch black from the nothingness that is my life. My heart is thumping, aching for someone to open the door. Hoping someone will shed light in this room in which I am trapped; to bring some light to this room which is my soul. Voices. All around me are voices. Sneering at me, peeling my sanity, piece by piece. A cry. Where did it come from? It is a cry within the room. A cry which can be found from my mouth, gaping wide. Too many memories; I desperately try not to reminisce. So many prayers leak from my mind. I need Him. Why hasn’t He answered my prayers? Can’t He hear me calling? Suddenly the door opens. I see this vivid color, different from the darkness that I am so accustomed to. A feeling of hope is soon diminished as this door is closed and that wonderful light is quickly dissipating in the darkness. It is consumed by this contemptuous darkness that will not release me from its grasp. My hand reaches out in vain for this hope that is now gone, but it is slapped back by this darkness. I am stuck in my corner, never to be found. Salvation has eluded me once again and the darkness slowly seeps back in to the fragments of my broken heart.
I watch you from a distance, never in your sight. So many things to tell you; things that will never leave my mouth. So many feelings held captive in the depths of me heart. Fear overrides those overwhelming feelings. Trust. Something I will never have. You are so good and pure. I am so evil and corrupt. I know I will never deserve you. Watching your every move is like watching my favorite movie over and over and over. I just can’t get enough of it. You fill my inner thoughts, my wishes, my fantasies. I can feel your entire being in every fiber of my body, even when you’re not around. This effect you have on me leaves me dumbfounded. Mumbled words I wish to say to you; hidden feelings I want so desperately to show. Things which will never reach your ear. You look at me, my heart races. Why won’t you stop? You don’t even know what you do to me. I love it so much that it makes me hate you sometimes. A quick feeling of guilt for even thinking to hate something so beautiful in my eyes overcomes me. You have inspired me without even trying, made me love you without even knowing. A plea for you to return this feeling emanates from my soul, never to be verbally stated, never to be heard by you.
09/14/01 (National Mourning Day)
I once looked at a man and saw the pain of his inner thoughts. The sadness, the horror, the unfathomable agony that streamed through his entire being was felt through his eyes. While prayers were silently spoken, while mournful music rang all about him tears began to stream down his cheek. I knew exactly what he felt and thought and wished without even saying a word to him. To see this stolid man now weakened by a tragedy made me feel his pain, know his thoughts, and completely identify with him. Looking through the eyes of that man and not only seeing but knowing his pain will never let me forget such a terrible tragedy that fell upon our nation.
Hope. Something I try not to have. Because if I do, I’ll only be shot down. You make me melt, I try to resist it but it is futile for me to repel you for too long. This occurrence is not the first time I’ve experienced it. Too many times have I been hurt or ignored. Too many times have I gone through this feeling for people like you. I know the same conclusion is inevitable and yet, I can’t get over it. This feeling is so new, so alive, so innocent and yet it will end in hate, anger and depression. Then why do I still feel for you as I did for the others? That I will never know until the bitter end. I know it is coming soon.
I can feel the icy tone in your voice. My impulses compel me to hate you, to retaliate. I want to hurt you back, maybe even five times more than you’ve hurt me, but I can’t. I can’t bring myself to hurt another, even if he has hurt me. You’re my blood, my brother…
It is a sad thing to know the things dreamed of will never come true. Imagination is sadly my reality. I sit and ponder of memories past, wishes unfulfilled. I can make myself feel so complete, so whole and satisfied without ever really experiencing it. Of course he likes me I say to myself. It is so evident that he acknowledges my presence. I know I’m beautiful. Constant confidence I hold in my mind, secret sentiments held deep within my heart. Then all of a sudden, it hits me. My mind rushes back to reality like a sharp blow to the stomach. What was I thinking? I have no comfort. Tears silently meander down my cheek and soon it reaches my quivering lips. I unwillingly taste the bitter salt of my pain, the harsh cruelty of my oblivion. The scenes secretly played in my head are shattered. My self-worth rapidly deteriorates. My eyes that were so blinded by falsehoods are now open to take destruction that lies in front of me. I was too ignorant to see, unwilling to accept the anguish of my life.
Pain, pain, pain, pain all around but mostly with me. Isolation, frustration all dumped onto my shoulders. I am weak from overwhelming burdens. Anxiety, guilt, sadness, depression sprinting through my mind leaking from my soul. Come on, is that all you can give? Give m more, I don’t mind. I love my depression, I love exclusion. Being me pain, hurt me more. Crying cannot be ceased. Anger and confusion will not go away. Bring me more, I can take it. My heart no longer beats; I am stolid from the pain. My body cannot continue to feel. So why not bring more pain? I hate you for the things you say, even if you don’t mean it. Someone love me. Hey salvation, hey peace, hey consolation, are you out there? Of course not. Harbingers of that sort will never reach my door. Madness, unbearable din, agony: they await my return to the end of the hallway. Those agile creatures anxiously hide behind the endless doors in my mind, ready to pounce the second I choose an entrance. Ready and willing to knock me down and devour me slowly. Ready to viciously lacerate my body as slowly as possible so that I can feel every tooth pierce my flesh. I am ready for the claws of those creatures to penetrate my flesh and rip out my heart. Bring me pain. I love it. Don’t you?
I try to open my heart to you, let you pick the pieces of my inward thoughts and use them to your liking. I try to open you up to a part of my life that is so difficult to share with many people so that you can have a person to identify with, a person to confide in. I try to give you a shoulder to lean on. And yet you refuse my help. Even though, I still desperately try to aid you in any way possible. No matter how many times you shun me, I’ll be there. As weird as it sounds coming from a person like me to a person like you, I really do care. Why do you hold such hostility towards me, even when I literally give you my heart and best wishes. I really do care, regardless of our past. Let me in, let me know, let me help. It hurts me to see others in the same state of mind as I. Depression and pain is a thing that must only be meant to find me. But why does it bother me so much to see you hurt? You definitely wouldn’t care if I were hurting like you are right now. And yet this deep feeling of sorrow for you will not cease. I hope one day you’ll realize that I’m your friend and that I really want to help you. But pessimism overrides that hope I have that someday you’ll want to be my friend too.
Sweet images of you and me sweep through my mind. There’s something I feel on my shoulder, gently smoothing my skin. Oh, if it were but your hand upon my shoulder, gently caressing the curves of my arm, keeping me warm, holding me close. You would softly press your lips against mine so that I might taste the tenderness found only from your mouth. As gentle as a breeze you would pull the strands of hair hiding my face behind my ear so that you might gaze into my eyes, and I into yours for days at a time. Knowing your every thought and wish would be my most cherished pastime. Even without words at all, just as long as you were near. What a lovely picture that is for me. Sadly, it is not yours as well.
I look at my reflection and I see a stranger. I am no one to me and everything to you. Whatever you need me to be; I’ll change my character as a chameleon changes its color. I wear a mask for the world, but I also wear one for myself. I don’t know the real me. What am I? Better yet-who am I? My life is void; it has no purpose. I’m helpless. Where do I start? What do I love? Who do I hate? Anything is better than this state. I’m lost in the middle of no where in my mind. Jumbled thoughts I once identified with myself are gone. I’m a character in a play: acting out for my audience and doing nothing for myself.
I hate myself for the things I say. I hate myself for the way I act, so phony and preplanned. I hate myself for the things I can’t do. I hate myself for the things I can do. I hate myself for the things I want but can’t receive. I hate myself for the things I can get but don’t want. I hate myself because I am not original. I hate myself because I copy other people. I hate myself because I’m not caught up with the times. I hare myself because I’m stupid. I hare myself because I’m ugly. I hate myself because I believe that. I hate myself because my friends don’t. I hate myself because they’re right. I hate myself because I don’t know who I am. I hate myself because I am not comprised of my own beliefs but of the thoughts, actions and beliefs of others. I hate myself because I am myself.
Feelings of insignificance rush back to my inner thoughts, flow through my veins. This corrosive substance eats away at my insides until they escape from my grasp. I am alone. I am not an I. Where did I go? Where have I been? Desperation, helpless fear are my only comforts. Someone, I am not; loved, I am not; important, I am not; not even to myself. Tears that have no feeling. They just can’t be stopped. There is no reason, no motivation for my uncontrollable tears, rushing like a raging river. Even they can’t bring me consolation. No weight has been lifted from my shoulders. None has been added. Just that same damn burden that’s always been The burden that replaced me. I am no longer myself, just my burden and the pain and heartache that comes with it. My insides. To everyone else, I am I. They love me, or so I think. They don’t truly understand the turmoil within me. They don’t know what I go through right before their eyes. They can’t decipher the forced smile on my face. They can’t figure out the pain I go through from a simple sting of their words, a confusing glance, a fake laugh. The truth, only my burden will know.
Two people that met by chance. So contrasting, so different they were. One, everything the other wanted to be. The one too good for the other. How they became friends, no one will know. The one, so beautiful, so loved. Never did she have a worry. The other, so envious of the one. She despised the one, hated her with all of her heart. But even so, the other could not hurt the one. So instead, she hurt herself. Badly was she destroyed, both inside and out. Hurt because of her rash hatred for the one. It wasn’t her fault that the other was constantly depressed, always angry. The other knows this.
I cry when I realize the other that I am.
It is I once again. One person against the world. One fight. One altercation. One boy. I look our for you, watch you carefully, make sure you’re okay. I defend you. Love you blindly. You take no notice. All you do is look past my transparent figure, towards her. She has done nothing to win your affection, your heart. And yet day by day she is gaining distance on me towards the goal. Towards you. I’ve done everything, she nothing. I’m screaming in your face now. You still look past me to her. I demand a resolution, give you an ultimatum. The conclusion is clear, so evident. She wins; I lose.
I am fully alone. I’ve finished my race towards the goal. I’ve taken my steps of rejection towards complete isolation. No one will know, no one will care. A crude smile of bitter sweet victory grows on my face. My lifeless eyes are somehow glowing with delight. I have reached my end, my final destination.
Tear stained poems bring the most pain.
Damn my cursed life. Doomed to observe, never to experience. Doomed to hate, never to love, never to be loved. My life sinking lower into depression. My body craving this downfall. I need it now, want it now, desire it. Nothing makes me feel anything but this depression. It is the only thing left on my side.
I am under the spotlight. All eyes on me. I feel their careful stares burning my flesh. Sweat trickles down my spine. My fearless eyes try to comprehend the scene, but there is nothing to be seen past the glaring light. I know they’re watching. I don’t know what to do. My thoughts are random, irrelevant to everything. I can do nothing to please my sneering audience. I choke on my words, on my thoughts. They become progressively worse. The light is too close. My skin, being singed by this scorching light. My body falls to ashes. The light is gone, but there was no audience. No one at all that I thought was there. I was burned by a light I made for myself. Destroyed by my own paranoia.
Sweet thoughts, tender kisses. Two trembling hands cling together. Joyful futures planned. Whispered feelings. Infatuated smiles. Eyes glowing, happily gazing at one another. Every feeling, every emotion bringing pure bliss. It ends. The hands separate. The eyes quickly look away, too uncomfortable to stare for too long. No more kisses, no more hugs. All gone. Tears fall. Memories are forgotten. Too painful to reminisce. Tear stained letters read with a heavy heart. All due to love’s beguile…
They have taken what I am. Put it in a jar. Played with it, toyed with it. Too their fancy. They taunt me with it. Flaunt my lost self in front of my tear-stained face. I am powerless to take myself back. To find me, the real me, that was lost amongst the crowd.
My wings. Each feather holding true potential. I am ready to take flight, exercise these plumaged arms. I spring in to the air, feeling the wind flow through my veins. My freedom is abrupt, I am plummeting back down to earth, to a dreary place I tried in vain to escape. My wings are now broken, making them inept; oh, incompetent wings! I loathe my place, the target I hit. They took away my freedom, my liberty. They clipped my wings.
Oh joy! You fools. I have cheated you once again. I am cunning, working by stealth. You think nothing of the true me as I put all my feelings aside for you. I laugh, I smile, I help you without thinking twice. Think nothing of the things you do that kill me. I shrug it off, repress it far in my mind. You never wonder how it feels to be me. Ha! You imbecile! I’ve lured you into my trap!
Oh but if you knew the real me. The me that’s slowly withering away. Your words, your actions, your blatant mockeries have done them to me. Inside I want to scream at you, let you know what you do to me. But that’s just what it is, my inside. It’s so difficult to keep inside, it’s too strong for me yet too weak to break through. Too weak and fightened to let you know. Ha! You fool! You will never know.
I am the girl who can never find his sight. I admire from afar, hiding in the shadows. Never to be his goal. I am the girl he seeks for guidance. The one who helps him find a path to her: a path that, I think, leads to destruction, compared to the path that leads to me. I am the girl he will never know. A person he will not venture to win. I am the girl who’s dying inside, who sees that to whom the love he gives in undeserving. I am the girl who is crying, pleading for mercy, but cannot receive it. That is me, all that I am.
They say that love is a wonderful thing. And joy and happiness comes along with it. I think it’s so cliché. There’s no possibility that it will last. So why does it make my heart sing? I hate love with a passion, there’s no reality to this intangible idea. You can’t see it, or touch it, so how do you know it’s really there? I believe that it’s not. It’s something used to fool the naïve hearts of hopeless romantics. This I will never be for anyone but One. Nothing else is true to this idea, this “love.” Nothing else.
Love is blind because it does not see. Love never sees the real thing that is its match. Love looks for something more, something that is not right. Love is a lie. It does not want to seek nor find the true match that coincides with itself. It wants a stereotype, the stupid monotonous aspects that “go” along with love. The hand-holding, the racing hearts. It is all as meaningless as a cloud drifting by. True love does not correspond to these idiotic expectations. True love can never be known. I am the only holder of what love really is. And it is not something you can learn from a book. Nor is it something you can experience with another person. It is not what makes your heart tremble or what attracts two trembling hands together. It is found from one person. A person you will not truly know unless you let go of ridiculous, secular pleasures. Unfortunately, most will cling to these worldly ideas because they are afraid of change. Too scared and ignorant are they to open the eyes of true love.
Can you keep a secret? Promise not to tell? I am slowly dying off. You will soon be unable to find me. I smile on the outside. I pray that you see the desperation in my eyes. I’m crying for you to save me from myself. But you don’t. You never think twice about how I really feel because you never really see my eyes. I want to be saved. I want to stop being something I am not. But you won’t let me. Set me free! I am dying for liberation! I look at the reflection but cannot recognize the person. Can you see the same thing? Do you know the difference from my inside and out? I really doubt it because you still haven’t helped me. I have so much emotion to share with you but no nerve to show you. My feelings are hidden far, far away. Can you find them? Do you want to? I really doubt that you do. The thing that is most painful about that is…Can you keep a secret? Promise not to tell?
You saved me from ruin, wiped away my tears. You took away my sorrow and my grief, made me whole. Kind is your heart, compassionate is your soul. This unmerited love opening the eyes of my oblivion. You were there from the start, guiding me through life. I never even knew it until true love opened my eyes. You sweetness fills my soul and makes me feel pure. You take me back to innocence: a fulfilling stage I once missed. With you I know no evil and feel no hate. To you I owe my life. To you I owe my soul. Nothing will ever break my bond with you. You were my beginning, and you will be my end.
The ice dies slowly, steadily, melting away. Not one complaint escapes its mouth. My life is slowly, steadily, melting away. And yet I scream and cry for help. I cry for life, but for what do I wish to live? What is keeping me from my steady path to death?
I am in a dilemma. The dilemma is me. Life or Death? Death or Life? Do not go without a fight says the ice. Do not die quietly like I.
We spend much time together, you and I. And yet you do not know me. So many treasures in my mind for you to discover. And yet you do not know me. We talk and laugh and share many things. And yet you do not know me. I ask you frankly, share without shame. And yet you do not know me. I wonder why you push me away. You still do not know me. Why are you afraid, too proud to accept the truth? Because you do not know me.