Undated (but definitely 1979)
To me, I am my world, I am the only thing in this world
I am the only thing
the world around me doesn't matter because I am me
and if I'm bad, or fail at life
the only one to know is me
I am not part of this world
I am not part of this life
I am not part of this world, I am not who I am
I am not a part of this world
I am not who I am, I am not who I am
I am not a part of me
I am not who I think I am
You will not deceive me, and you who will die
You will deceive me, and now you must die.
August 13, 1978
The waves flicker with sunlight in play
and they have long since they were born
and they will always be the same
never changing, never wanting, never wishing.
They will shine. The sun will play upon their happy caps,
and slightly brighten their unending depths.
And no, they will never change
never deceive you, the are never to blame.
And those of us who watch them play
upon a bed of unknown land in the mists of everlasting rest,
with only the wind to blow their playing peaks
to shine for us, those who will never be...like waves.
November 1, 1979
I was once as dead as all dead could be
I laughed my laugh and dreamed my dreams.
I could cry and smile and stare from my eyes
and speak of things that meant nothing,
to no one,
but me.
The only thing to me was to be
my only joy was sorrow
I weep my laugh
and sobbed my fears
and screamed my sleep in angered mirrors.
Mirrors of life, my eyes, they were
No one could touch them to reach me, to hold.
To capture my glance a thought you must hold:
my glassy eyes were meanings, surrounded by verbs.
Words trickled past my lips
quivered while they spoke.
Thoughts so mixed up in my mind
faster than my tongue could move,
then abandoned thoughts were left far behind
as my mind raced new ones for me to find.
My mind explodes with thoughts still now
racing forward, faster with time.
Too bad my lips move no more,
for my eyes know the darkness
that no one else knows.
November 12, 1979
Black satin midnight
floating on a dream
yellow hazy moonlight
in moonlit lightening beams
dance upon the willow trees
hazy, still, unseen
Lazy stars in darkest sky
dancing very slow
wishing me a happy life
as I'm growing old
fairies from the fairy tales
sing upon the lazy night
castles forbidding me and you to enter in the light
Cobwebs look like snow to me
and trees are waving slowly
fly away the moonlit sky
and night is wearing down
slow and quiet is the night
when I was born to die.
===========================================
Embarrassment. Yep. Embarrassment keeps me from posting. Many dramatic "poems" declaring my teenage feelings.
Why can I throw this up now? I made a decision. I have been wall-to-wall Twilight Saga for the month of December. I do not see it ending anytime soon. I have been reading furiously - not just Meyers but Gaiman too. I think of my postings and how they make me cry sometimes while I write them.
Pride makes me say out loud that these posts are better than Meyers writing - even on a bad day. These poems are like Meyers. They were written as a child. Yes, I know that I have not sold a franchise worth of material. Heck - Google Ads kicked me off before I received my first deposit. But still. My posts are not a book. I should not compare them to works of fiction. It is difficult for me to not judge. I am judge. that is what I do. It is natural and easy for me to believe that I am superior.
I do not make New Year's resolutions. Perhaps I should rethink. Perhaps I should continue to write - especially the journals that come out of my box and go quickly back in. What am I waiting for? What can I possible be afraid of at this point?
/cheers to 2012
Showing posts with label Ashamed. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Ashamed. Show all posts
Saturday, December 31, 2011
Friday, April 9, 2010
Maybe I imitate others because to be myself might mean - NOTHING
"Do not be ashamed of yourself; this above all else, is the root of your problem."
"The Brother's Karamazov" Dostoevsky
August 27, 1986
Who is this person whom you call Sue?
I'm not really sure you know.
You surround yourself with other people whom you don't like nor do they like you much either.
I look back at these pages in disgust. I am so whiny. I complain all the time. Here I sit as god and proclaim others - my rivals - to be less than myself.
Well, Sue, you know yourself where you stand. You are lower than all - you plummet the depths of insecurities - above all else you are ashamed of yourself and of your behavior. Constantly imitating others yet criticizing them while pretending I'm not like them at all. I must recall e.e. cummings - "To be nobody. but - yourself - in a world which is doing its best, night and day, to make you everybody else - means to fight the hardest battle which any human being can fight; and never stop fighting."
Maybe I imitate others because to be myself might mean - NOTHING - I am so untrue to myself.
How can I break down my barriers to my self?
Maybe, this is the criticizing I perform. ABOUT EVERYTHING! It could be very telling about myself - what I choose to criticize. I've often read that Virgo's are critical by nature - well fuck that; it is no excuse.
I complain about other people's messy houses - yet I am one of the biggest pigs around.
I complain about how others are raising their children - could it be I worry about my own shortcomings?
Ah, at last a post acknowledging that I understand that there is something different about me. I knew I would come across an intellectual entry. I have a post-it note stuck in one of my notebooks written by a therapist that I knew in Stillwater. A kind soul that counseled me for free. The note says simply: "incidents in which I was not sure how to act as a 25 year old woman." I had been struggling with what was a "normal" way to be, to act. I have always wondered how to act. This was something he was helping me with.
I wondered why the girls got along so well in elementary school - it never came easy for me. One incident stands out clearly and painfully in my mind. We had hooks outside of our classroom that were inset into the walls. A gaggle of girls around me, fifth graders - Mrs. Loney's class - were hanging up their coats and fawning over one girl. "oh, I like your skirt!" they exclaimed. The girl turned towards me, actually, turned towards the classroom door, I looked her straight in her eye, "I don't" I stated. Quiet. Silent, shocked. I just remember that. The silence. I realized I had said the wrong thing. I misunderstood what was happening. People were not giving their opinions of her skirt - they were complimenting her - a friendly gesture. As I worked my way through elementary school, I "worked" my way through "friends", by the time we were in seventh grade, a new school, I had the opportunity for a whole new set of people to reject me.
Just as it is for me as a child, I had few friends as a adult. People have trouble "reading" me. I come across as harsh, or rude, or disinterested. People who stick with me long enough, learn that I am actually a very kind person. I act as if I know everything, as if I am an expert in everything. This is my coping mechanism. I cope with my inability to "read" the intent of people easily by acting as if I am superior to them. People who call themselves my friends, know this. They accept it as who I am. They laugh with me at my boasting statements of "I know best" and "Prove it!". I am just quirky. I have strong opinions.
"The Brother's Karamazov" Dostoevsky
August 27, 1986
Who is this person whom you call Sue?
I'm not really sure you know.
You surround yourself with other people whom you don't like nor do they like you much either.
I look back at these pages in disgust. I am so whiny. I complain all the time. Here I sit as god and proclaim others - my rivals - to be less than myself.
Well, Sue, you know yourself where you stand. You are lower than all - you plummet the depths of insecurities - above all else you are ashamed of yourself and of your behavior. Constantly imitating others yet criticizing them while pretending I'm not like them at all. I must recall e.e. cummings - "To be nobody. but - yourself - in a world which is doing its best, night and day, to make you everybody else - means to fight the hardest battle which any human being can fight; and never stop fighting."
Maybe I imitate others because to be myself might mean - NOTHING - I am so untrue to myself.
How can I break down my barriers to my self?
Maybe, this is the criticizing I perform. ABOUT EVERYTHING! It could be very telling about myself - what I choose to criticize. I've often read that Virgo's are critical by nature - well fuck that; it is no excuse.
I complain about other people's messy houses - yet I am one of the biggest pigs around.
I complain about how others are raising their children - could it be I worry about my own shortcomings?
Ah, at last a post acknowledging that I understand that there is something different about me. I knew I would come across an intellectual entry. I have a post-it note stuck in one of my notebooks written by a therapist that I knew in Stillwater. A kind soul that counseled me for free. The note says simply: "incidents in which I was not sure how to act as a 25 year old woman." I had been struggling with what was a "normal" way to be, to act. I have always wondered how to act. This was something he was helping me with.
I wondered why the girls got along so well in elementary school - it never came easy for me. One incident stands out clearly and painfully in my mind. We had hooks outside of our classroom that were inset into the walls. A gaggle of girls around me, fifth graders - Mrs. Loney's class - were hanging up their coats and fawning over one girl. "oh, I like your skirt!" they exclaimed. The girl turned towards me, actually, turned towards the classroom door, I looked her straight in her eye, "I don't" I stated. Quiet. Silent, shocked. I just remember that. The silence. I realized I had said the wrong thing. I misunderstood what was happening. People were not giving their opinions of her skirt - they were complimenting her - a friendly gesture. As I worked my way through elementary school, I "worked" my way through "friends", by the time we were in seventh grade, a new school, I had the opportunity for a whole new set of people to reject me.
Just as it is for me as a child, I had few friends as a adult. People have trouble "reading" me. I come across as harsh, or rude, or disinterested. People who stick with me long enough, learn that I am actually a very kind person. I act as if I know everything, as if I am an expert in everything. This is my coping mechanism. I cope with my inability to "read" the intent of people easily by acting as if I am superior to them. People who call themselves my friends, know this. They accept it as who I am. They laugh with me at my boasting statements of "I know best" and "Prove it!". I am just quirky. I have strong opinions.
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