I am a contradiction. I can tell myself, and others one
thing and then turn around and lie about it. I am both so far over things and
yet still late at night I have memories play over and over in my head. I can
make them stop sometimes, make them disappear. Then there are times I am
screaming inside telling myself to stop it, to stop living that moment over and
over again. Sometimes my head tells me I have more time, that time is not
passing that I will be waiting consistently waiting for the hands to change. Other
times I can’t keep the clock from moving forward no matter how much I beg and
plead, nothing can stop time.
I am both so far over it, and yet still never really. I
think that helps make me such a compassionate person, but it also makes me
crazy. I never seem to want to be happy for what I have, for what is safe. I
know in my heart that I am going in the right direction, the well beaten path
guiding my feet. Yet my brain tells me to change where I am going, that the
path I want isn’t really there. I can see it right under my feet. I can feel
it. But I still deny the truth.
My heart consistently seems to reminisce on things I miss, flirty
days at bus stops, running around laughing back stage, starlight night
overlooking a lake, a rose for Valentine’s Day, or a necklace. A brief light
first kiss, a more hungry, physical kiss, one of someone who loves me, another
from someone with too much practice. The sound of someone breathing beside you.
The glow of blue Christmas lights. Asking for permission, to touch, to kiss. To
act as if it never happened, or to say no to let it start again. Consistently think
I am happy, and that people could be happy for me. Or are they just trying not
to break me.
Hearing things that scare me, that make me doubt what I am
doing. Words that just make me turn to jello, make me want to turn back and
run. The past doesn’t work like that. I can run through the empty halls,
through the woods, through the parks, and nothing would be there. Emptiness,
what made my memories are the people. How someone sounded, how they talked, how
they laughed, or how they screamed. On how I wished some of them would have
yelled and screamed. Or told the truth, just straight with me. Others I wished
had stayed quiet, out of reach to my curious ears. How something long since
past can hit me in the present so hard, it shakes my whole being causing the
present to fade away, or worse disappear in a sudden jolt.
I tell myself how lucky I am, that there are things that
could be worse. Yet tears, fears and anxiety creep up and whisper horrible
things. How I am losing people, I am becoming alone. Sure I may not see it now,
but it is happening and I am demanding so much of the people I want to hold
close. Am I ruining them myself, I find good and wonderful people and introduce
them to one and other and then I am gone, I am never in on the jokes, or the
good news, hell not even the bad. I haven’t told anyone yet, you are the first
becomes I was meaning on telling you I just didn’t know when, or worse oh you
found out, well I guess I should explain.
Some people look forward to the hopes and dreams of life
ahead. I have those too, I want a family, a job teaching art, a house I can do
whatever I want to. I am though, stuck as my high school self, tidbits of
college jump in to add brightness, but most of the time I shut it out. I don’t
want to do it. I just want it all to stop I want to hide away for no one to
see. Then see who is the first to find me. I would love to know who would be the
first to find me. To find me. I want someone to find me, please, please. I am
trapped I don’t know where or what, or who I am anymore. I am just keeping it
up so I don’t have to announce I am gone. Can anyone see it, does anyone see
it. Hello. Hello. Help me. I want to help me, I know she is there but a search
party looking for oneself is redundant. She flitters in and out of my peripheral
vision, and when I finally catch her head on one face looking into another. There
is no recognition. I know it is me because a mirror shows a reflection. Something
mimicked back. It is sometimes so bad, I physically can’t remember. I don’t
know if it is the left or right side of my face that has the moles.
I look over pictures trying to see what someone on the
outside sees, and maybe be that person. I am a role model, someone who would
never imagine that I have always had problems. It was one of those you had to
be there kind of lifestyle. But hey isn’t that everybody. Isn’t everybody
trying to find away to get to be some place that what they are, is what they
were not before. Humans are always trying to better themselves, no matter if
they are good enough. Good enough, who judges that? Do your superiors, our
peers mayhaps, or yourself, hell it might be no one.
What do I have to show for myself? I lie in bed at god awful
early or late next to someone I love so very much, smiling at how he breathes,
the way his face looks the warmth from his body into my own. And yet I still go
out and look at my pat trying to make sure it is there. And notice changes I
never knew happened. Going back to ex friends, or just exs’s, deep into the recourses
I have. And just stay in awe, that I should be happy, why torment myself, why
tell myself I will never see them again because I said I didn’t want to. But deep
inside wanting to run into them just to have them be the same people, or that they
are now so pathetic that I had good enough reason to never want to see them
again.
I just want to be found, I just want to rest, I just want to
be okay. Is it really that hard to make these deals with my mind?
