Words from an Insomniac still trying to find her way

Posts tagged “reality

In the Background is Where I Learn to Live, at the Forefront is where I Learn to Give.

IMG_2187Dear You,

Welcome to me…to this lifetime of weak metaphoric bones and 267 days of teary eyes. I warned you from the beginning, didn’t I? I brought forth my promise of commitment with my long list of conditions. Conditions such as aching for the baby sister who only had four hours of “why me?”, or the younger brother who thought killing himself was the better side to see. Conditions such as my loneliness which creeps in the night, and my fear of never waking up again once I turn out the light.  You haven’t forgotten the best part, have you? You know, the part where the depths of my melancholy wash over me like tsunamis in the sky. This is me…this is we…and we haven’t had the promising chance to even try. In this life of mine, I chose to drift towards your life preserve, thinking you were the one who was going to save me. Some days I think I’m still at sea, dog paddling my way through life, with you always close by.

I remember the first time you took hold of my hand when a fresh coat of grief washed upon me, and I let you in, without a moment’s hesitation. Was I being selfish, allowing you to see the real mirror image of my soul, my existence? Should I have let you stay away, without any explanation, any “Dear John” letter? You have lost several years that you’ll never get back. I can’t promise that you’ll be able to hang on to any more in the future. In the end, all I’ll have to give is the “I tried” line.  In the end that is all it will ever be; a failed try. But know, I did try.

When I look at your silent peace, your heaven-sent release, if only in your sleep, I am happy for you. I think it is here, in my absence, that you truly find happiness. In the deep corners of your subconscious you are alive, ready to take on the reality of what could’ve been. It is in your inner solitude that I am most jealous. How can one be jealous of something that could never be reached? Be a part of? But it’s there, poking it’s angry saddened little head through the locked door of your mind. You lay there, angelic and weightless, not thinking of a thing. This is where the metaphoric hamster in your brain takes a breather, where the ocean meets dry land. You are calm and care-free. And I am jealous of everything I’ve just seen.

I live in a world where my hamster never sleeps, where fear loves to creep and the thought of drifting away and never returning becomes the welcome mat of anxiety at my minds’ front door.  I never chose what was behind curtain number four. I only wanted #1 because it’s more than likely better odds. Who stole my life from me? Who wished eternal tears and hard twisting heart rhythms to lay at my feet? I’ve landed the bonus where I even cry in my sleep. Who wished this for me? How I long for the nights of sweet vivid dreams brought on by exhaustion of long hours counting sheep.

Regardless of the outcome, this is the reality. And even in my tantrums, I have learned to accept the hand dealt to me. I gave up on self-pity and self-destruction, and leaned more towards the spontaneous crying and itchy blanket called loneliness. This is me…this is we; the mirror looking back at the mess which becomes me. Nowadays, I tend to cry when you aren’t around. When the music is deep and therapeutic, when the movie strangles my heart with both hands; this is my relief. Do you get it? I’m giving you a break. I’m letting you off the hook, here’s a freebie on me. This is one thing you’ll never understand…that this me, it is not you. You can have the rest; like my playfulness and crazy nonsense. You get the loving ways and the part of my heart that beats for you. I’ve swallowed the key to the other room. Don’t ask for it back.

I didn’t grasp it the first time, you know, the uncomfortable feeling of what to do when I couldn’t stop crying and feeling so bleak. But you’re better off, and I know that now. This is something I must deal with without the company of awkward silences and uncomfortable movements. The darkness does eventually end, and the new sunrise becomes a welcome home sign; even if short-lived. I’m comfortable in this accepting skin. I take the good without taking it for granted while I take the bad at face value. 

I live in the numbness of a never-ending dream where nothing pleasant happens in the end. I wait excitedly for the surprise gift of a wonderful day, whether in a song or the way you look at me, and I relish in the love that gives me a temporary fix. You have always been my drug of choice. The darkened clouds and bitter shadows; they will continue to live, just now I keep them in the deeper end. I’ve wanted you and all that you freely possess . My baggage was clear and will be till the end. I’ve wanted you and not the choice to keep on running. I just can’t get rid of the closet filled with sorrow and disappointing sentiment. Please remember to read your faithful contract. Look for the signature at the dotted line. Remember these images when it’s time for me to unravel all of my despair with the lights turned off and the music keeping the poison at bay. Remember there will always be better days. 

love,

~me~


The Most Beautiful Woman in Town & other stories- Charles Bukowski

The one thing I enjoy when reading Bukowski is the fact that his stories are simple, though the context quite complex and often depressing, it is simple the way that life is displayed through his words. Although these stories may not reflect life in general, lives such as these do exist, and many are too afraid or often too heartless to explore.

It was a time of drunk symbolism, sex, and living freely.  Living off of luck, or payment from an accepted piece, or if necessary and desperate, finding employment for the day just to earn enough for booze, dinner, and breakfast. It wasn’t a happy successful life, but then these stories aren’t about society’s picture of success. It’s as if success has been achieved by damning the Man whether it’s not paying taxes or not having to suck up to corporate wankers. By sleeping till noon while John Doe works his ass off as a slave to the wage.

The women in these stories seem displaced and are often seen just finding any reason for satisfaction, for belonging, while dying slowly from within. And these women aren’t “keepers”, but needed just the same. The Depression came and went, but definitely left scars.

Recommended reading for sure, but only if you can handle the reality that life is not always Shirley temples and t.v. dinners. Sometimes it’s a can of beans with a bottle of ripple, but no one is complaining.


government Promises and dead Dreams

I open my eyes

to this slave-trade world,

Echoing back and forth

the pains of others before me

(always getting screwed.)

And it really won’t get any better.

This country is beginning to smell

Rotting tortured souls,

mounds of waste outside our backyards.

No wonder people would rather

sleep the day away, never leave their homes.

I feel the same way some days

(thank you for feeling the same way.)

Polluted skies fill my dreams

Vaporize my passion for life.

Just what are you spraying over our skies?

I never feel dignified

but life keeps dragging on by

Open these endless graves

Of slaves, screwed over before us

Dying for the cause,

Humiliated and ashamed.

We’re still fighting minimum wage

Health benefits and equality,

the right to teach about our culture.

Can we keep the human race alive and well?

We all agree that this is hell

but we know the worst is still to come.

I vote we sleep through it,

Let the rich fight for once

Let their children be the sacrifice

While they hunt for tomorrows’ dinner

I open my eyes, forcefully

trying to understand

What the screaming is all about

What the crying is all about

Why the pain is ever lasting

Why everything we do hurts us in the end

Metals of honor mean a painful death

(what good are we alive?)

Let the rich volunteer to lay across these mines,

kill for an unjust cause.

Leave the tears for the dead behind

until the sun comes up and I do it

All over again.

Let loose all poor examples of Presidents before

Of world wars   famine   greed   does it mean

Anything?

A pile of manure for those so blinded

so excited to start a fight they could never finish

but sell bumper stickers for.

I’ve forgotten what it felt like to shine

To be alive   kicking   screaming

Giving way to the revolution!

But their propaganda gets in the way

Eating at our souls, our courage

again we have nothing to live for

(I stay asleep another day.)

I grieve for the young

for the lives that will be lost in the next five minutes

If only they could sleep away like me,

Stay safe within closed eyes.

I am disturbed by a distorted sky,

chemicals are in the air

Tonight, grey and black:  puff puff cough

everyone is affected,

we all suffer from restraints

branded on bleeding wrists

from government promises and dead dreams.