The Neglecting One

Shush shush my dear, it’s only just your hormones

These silly emotions mixed up inside of you aren’t real, I promise

You have no reason to cry

No reason to faint

No reason to believe anything is truly wrong

Oh my dear, clearly he loves you, you know this to be true!

Look, you’re taken care of.  Everything is alright.  It’s always been alright.

Tut, tut, my dear!  It’s only your hormones raging into the night.  Women often confuse the emotions with reality.  Your reality must be slipping away.

You feel too deeply, you rationalize too much.  You think too long into things.

You’re not enough.  See dearest?  You aren’t meeting his needs.  So obviously he can’t meet yours.

Everyone else knows the Right side.  They’ll all smile and tell you how proud they are.

You’re delusional.  You’re reading it too deeply.

You’re wrong.
But….. am I?

Frailty thy Name is Forgotten.

Mesmerizing in a way once forgotten

Walking in newness of a life once down trodden

Back when fantasies were dreams left untouchable

Wondering if this pursuit is just as corruptible

All the waking endless nights keep passing

Each one void of Love and laughing

Empty staring, lost in the universe of thought

Seeing these things inside you have brought

Each one waiting for a second bloom to burst into life

Until someone stalks it with a pairing knife

Without water, each dead sapling has been cut out

Bulbs torn from sockets and planted take roots

Bright ideas sit stagnant too dull to reuse

And what shall we do with the drunken Sailor?

The one who sobs confusing funnel for strainer?

Bleary-eyed waiting for someone to make it right

Blot away bloodstains to make it shine bright

Sweep the crumbs up to save for later

It is all a game, and I am the only player.

Unplugged

So many of my URL friends are familiar with my grievances against Facebook and the forced switch mobile users had to make to the Messenger app.

I hate it.  I love it’s conveniently designed instant messaging, I love it’s convenient chat feature, and the stickers, and that I can talk to everyone in the world…..

But I hate the app itself for its invasive required accesses, and how it makes my phone lag.

Lately, I’ve been considering my Relevance to society and whether or not Social Media actually needs me around.  If I could slip away, how many of my URL friends would notice?

What is my relevance?  I’m a Writer like hundreds of other people.  I don’t have anything else to say advice-wise that others haven’t said before me.

I’m honest and to the point, sit down and write.  Everything else can wait.

I can give you writing prompts, but there are literally hundreds of other people who have done/are doing that very thing.

All sorts of A-Type people are conquering the world, and doing what I do-only they’re much more upfront and straight forward about it.

I stop and feel the sunshine, and smell the roses, and mourn the passing of dead fish, and roadkill, and am distracted by everything around me.  I day dream all day long and forget I didn’t write any of it down.

It’s not a good thing, however.  I really need to hone in and find some kind of Groundwire, or I’ll waste my entire life away, having never published the world of Eldegras.

Perhaps the world will end.  But people will still want to read books.

Perhaps nuclear bombs will destroy America, and our economy will collapse, and I’ll have wasted away my time procrastinating instead of publishing a book.

It doesn’t matter how or what happens, if I never pursue my dreams, they’ll never come true.  No amount of wishing on stars and meteors will help.

Am I relevant?  Is my book worth it?  Is someone going to read it?  Love it?  Want more of it?

Every B-Type personality has this struggle.  We feel Deeply, and in feeling Deeply, we carry more than our own weight on our shoulders.

At the end of the day, we’re exhausted from smiling and interacting with the World from the Surface.  Our thoughts and emotions attack us in the dark and keep us up for hours.

That’s why Writers drink so much caffeine.  ((Coffee, tea….))  oh, and alcohol of course.

Maybe one day I’ll figure it out, come out of the other side of this block, and have my series finished.
Maybe one day.

Perhaps it starts by unplugging.  Turning off Social Media and the inner turmoil our brains encounter interacting with it.  We’re wired to crave community.  But must we crave it so much it controls us?

Checking to see if someone checked on you.  Checking to see if someone commented.  Checking to just kill time mindlessly.

Relying on these interactions to feel fulfilled by fellow human  beings who share common interests –like killing time on the Internet.
Whatever it is, it starts with a choice.  A rally to action to Do The Thing!  And to believe in yourself enough to do it well.

Insomnia

Staring lifeless into darkness waiting for the Night to turn back to Day
Hours creeping silently, I’m afraid of the Dark
Not the darkness itself, but what rests beneath the covering

Where’s the Promise that everything gets better?
Why so Silent, you promise to be there when I need you most.

What will it take for you to hear me?
What does it take for you to hear me?

Inside, I cry, the walls are closing in.
Outside, I try not to lose it all again.
Somewhere this side of heaven I need to know for sure
You’re watching and caring for the breaking pieces inside of me.

Slumber evades me, everytime I try to go to sleep something happens
Another hour or two passes by, silent anxiety causing my brain to scream
Were those gun shots?  Was that glass breaking?
Are you there to comfort me when I cryout to you?

I remain cold and in the dark.
I can’t feel your arms around me

Inside, I cry, the walls are closing in.
Outside, I try not to lose it all again.
Somewhere this side of heaven I need to know for sure
You’re watching and caring for the breaking pieces inside of me.

Wanderlust

Warm arms that never comforted

Cold heart that beats blindly for more

Lips that just wont satisfy the ache inside the soul

Wrap the blanket tighter against the cold

Shivering alone inside the darkness of my soul

Missing the raptures of new found love

The tempest of emotions that rage curiously

Exciting romance, springing to life for the first time

Or is it the last time? Is it another braking time?

Missing the thrill of a first mate on debut

Missing the jitters that go with laying eyes on someone new

The journey began waning falling off it’s course

Perhaps theres hope but neither knows for sure

Say you love, but I know better

Say you want this, but I know better

Say you’ll fix it, but I know better.

Hi, it’s me, a little miss Nobody

And I want to share, is anybody listening

All of those times I was strong

I carried on, breathless and silent

Now I’m alone.  Does anybody hear my screams?
The words, they’re biting.

Yet the pages are still so dry

I stare mindless into outer space because

Nobody can hear me, nobody will see me.
Out there in the great big world of drivers,

So certain of the way they’re going.

Taking this road, that road, winding.

And yet here I am all turned around and sliding.

They make it seems so easy,

They make it seems so Right.

Each one has someone beside them.

Each one has someone there behind them.
Steadily I take back the wheel, so afraid of

What lies in front, the headlights are dirty.

The darkness has fallen, and now it’s cold out.

Can anyone hear me? I’m blinded in twilight.

The sparkling shimmer of water on the road guides me.

Back to the freeway where I turned off, for another broken dream.

It’s fading now, the traffic is slowing down.

Somebody crashed.  They jumped out to find,

We’re all just trying to figure this out

And I’ve figured out
I will go it all alone.  I can make it, but I’ll still be alone in the end when I crash.

It Starts With A Step

Standing in the middle of the room, the walls seem as though they’re closing in.
The door is cracked open, light gently peering in.  Not enough to cause the darkness to flee.  Only just enough to remind there is light on the other side.

It only takes a few short steps to get to the door.  To enter the hallway and be washed in that light.  And yet, we hesitate.

The raging emotions, terrifying us.  Anxiety taking our breath away.

What’s in the hallway?  Will it kill us?
Will it attack?  Will it hate us?

Alone we continue to suffocate in the darkness.

It drives us insane.  Wanting out, wanting to stay.  Wanting to be free, wanting to stay hidden in the darkness.
Will you choose Freedom?

It only takes a step.  One little step at a time to conquer the darkness.
Freedom begins when you let yourself move.  When you take that first step toward change.

The Color of Rain

I’d rather stay inside and watch from afar
To stay far away, so you can’t see my scar
I’d rather keep quiet when you’re all around
Than to ever let on my ships run aground
Isolate myself with my insecurity
Surrender myself to the absurdity
That I will eventually be okay.

I like to cry alone when no one can hear
I like to drown out alone with my fear
Wherever I go, I know I can paint a smile for you
I’ll tell you I’m fine, although all the while, it’s true
I’m dying inside, a little more each time I’m with you.

Confident I collapse to my anxiety
Hoping that somehow you’ll hear me
The emptiness inside suffocates my heart
Will anyone come and break me apart?
Break me apart to let me out

Isolated willingly by all my doubt and fear
Wishing somehow someone might see me here
Reach deep inside, and draw me out
Can anyone come and sate this drought?

Writers Block

For some reason, I’m suffering from unshakeable depression.  It’s as though there’s an unsatiable chasm in my chest, draining away all of my energy, creativity, and distorting all of my emotions.
This is also affecting my ability to write, and make beautiful things come to life in words.  Which causes further frustration, leading to more wilting away of self.
I’m finally home with my husband again – there’s no desire or longing for our relationship to improve, I wonder why it even exists.
I’m finally back in my house, to do as I please – and the reminders that I am literally alone in this empty part of the country creep in, shadowing the gratitude I have to being home.
I’m finally able to sit down and write my story for an upcoming anthology – and nothing feels right.  Nothing desires to be written.  The story I am working on I am going to shelve, and see if something else comes up.  I have until mid-May, surely there’s a story floating out there wishing to be told.  I hope very much that it jumps into my head and allows me to bear it witness.
Story telling is my life.  Without it I am nothing.  My religious convictions are my life, without them I am nothing.
Today, I lie in bed – my mother tending my son, both thinking I am asleep – as my emptiness lends to the withering of my soul.  I must find something to slay the beast, in order to perk my spirits!  Alas, is this depression debilitating.
And I roll over, closing my eyes, wishing the world away.