Why Give Up the Power?

Why do we give other people power to say what we can feel, what we can, and how we can say it? When did the fears and anxiety of what might happen or could happen start to take over the need to be whole, true, and peaceful with our inner self before making others that way? A rock cannot be a rock if it is crumbled can it? For if your in a million little pieces by the end, after the current of unyielding tides have washed over and have battered away at you for years and your rubble, there is no way you can stand strong for those your love for you can not longer stand for yourself. I have watched a long time friend of mine care for his/her family (names protected for the innocent here), and watched the progression over time. The constant pressure, beat downs are sewn in with love and bought basically. My friend has a wonderful life on the outside with a beautiful home, gorgeous family, and to listen them talk a very fruitful life. To dig however into that life is a crazy, topsy-turvy world full of heart-ache, despair and more horrific than any V.C Andrews novel ever created.

From Brick Wall to Rubble.

There was this girl, a time ago. She had visions of how her life should have gone, looking out windows from time to time dreaming of what would have been, could have been. Always keeping her head above water, this girl always knew that she had to be strong, hard; she had to be cold to be able to live. She couldn’t let anyone in. She was living a life punishing her for the mistakes that others had made along with her. She made them herself, but she did not make them alone. She was embittered, wounded though she made it though. Day in and day out, she made the beds, meals. She mended the “war” scars and kissed the boo-boos. She read “Where the wild Things are” at least a thousand times as they drifted off to sleep, keeping the ringer off because she never dared let anyone in her time. She let a few in, mistakenly thinking that it was ok. Friends, others- she should have known better. Now, here in the present-she has become a woman. Still making meals, beds are made not by her but by the growing ones that stand before her no longer needing as much from her but still needing. Battles are more present then kissing boo-boo’s as hormones rage and muscles are flexed. This now woman as become a bit warmer in her age, she has turned on her ringer, opening her world even though that thought still scares her still makes her wonder if anyone really wants to be apart of this. She has started taking down the wall that she so painstaking built, harden by years she picks at it daily realizing that she needs to. That she has waited so long to be able to do this that she owes to them to her to break it down. She never thought she would utter those words, the phrases, but she has. It felt good, and for once she actually smiled.

Pieces.

Everyone, no matter in what capacity, has a past that precedes the current venture in which they are finding themselves partaking in. May that venture be a relationship, a new career, or just new path in life? Which ever that may be, the past before it creates blocks, curves, and twists in which we base our reactions to the new path that lies before us. Some of us pick up these pieces, one at a time, hoping that by the time we reach the end, we will have slowly but surely put them back together in the way they were meant to be laid out. Others just head strong their way through it, hoping without hope that eventually that end of the line is a hell of a lot brighter than the start of it. Either of us right, no one knows but we all must try out our own way of coping and prodding through. It’s the only way to survive this crazy world. It is never easy, finding out where we belong. Maybe we just can’t “belong” anywhere. Maybe we weren’t meant to just stay in “one” place. Maybe that is just a cynics way of verbally making her life seem better by stating what her life is what is supposed to be, rather than making what could be the path that should be.

Moments

You float along, listening to life whistle around you like a gale force wind thinking that it will never slow down. Then for one moment, a moment you never thought would happen in your crazy, messed up existence time stands still. People around you are still moving, breathing but in your circle time is stopped. The motion around you is still, your so caught up in the moment of what is happening to you that the air is heavy, motionless. Almost like you are meant never to forget the memory that is being created right then, that is it to be forever ingrained in time. It is perfect, perfect for you. For no one or no thing is perfect except for what you see in your mind as perfect for you.

More Than Words

As you browse the books at your local bookstore, you notice numerous titles on “how to”, everything from fixing your computer to fixing yourself. The question we really have to ask is, can you really rely on a book to fix it all? Can we rely on words to heal, fix, or wash away the past, present, or future? It is something that I sat and pondered for a bit, trying to find words to express certain emotions or feelings that I just could not express. Words can only be the frosting of the whole cake if you will, the top of entire project. It is the actions and physical work that you put into something that makes it worth anything. The intricate details of the work in progress are so much more important that the words you can use to express how you’re going about it, or how you have gotten to where you are. It is showing how you got there that is the great reward. Sometimes, we all forget that we have to put a little “humph” behind our words, behind the speeches, behind the “I love you”, behind the past. It is easy to get lost or caught up in words, some of us find it hard to believe in words, some of us chose our words carefully and only say things that we truly feel. Talking is a wonderful form of expression, however, so is physical emotion or actual hard work. For some, that is more meaningful then a colorful phrase or a beautifully turned verse

Damn the Radio

You sit in your room, quiet and small. The silence is deafening, you reach for the radio and turn the dial to on. Suddenly you are thrown from deafening silence to obliterating emotions with every station change. You are swiftly catapulted onto a roller coaster of thoughts, fears,and dreams that you were trying to hide from in the dark silence of your room. You have no where to run; it all follows you like a dark shadow in the alley-way that you were always told not to turn down. There is no silence, for silence is louder than sound and words are tortuous to the soul. Too much is said, too little is said. It is a never ending cycle that will not stop unless the world stops. Is that a choice or an inclination? For some, for others it is just a fleeting thought for we must endure the world with our responsibilities, crosses to bear, and our never ending “have to’s.

Save the Last Dance?

Thoughts jumbled, mind racing. You cannot even start to wrap your mind around what in the hell is happening to you. You pick up the phone twenty times just to put it back down again, shaking your head that you even picked it up. You stop yourself by screaming into the mirror, asking what it is that you think you are doing. You look yourself dead in the eyes, asking the ultimate question- Can you do this? Is this actually something you can accomplish? You leave a trail of mass destruction behind you farther and wider than any hurricane or Tsunami ever recorded. You know you are incapable of bullshit, intolerable of closeness, yet you stand here completely vulnerable because you, the iron wall of emotions and strength have been completely obliterated. You have no idea who the person there in mirror is staring back at you, this person who has this incessant need to touch, feel, and speak to another human being. You’re the one who goes home at night to the house of chaos and closes themselves in, not to be bothered with the rest of the world. A closed book who does not need friends nor lovers, but only those who have to be involved in the life on a necessary basis. Oh unfathomable it is that you are realizing that someone has cracked that shell, that shell of harden life that has been there for so very long, as long as you can remember. You do not let people in, for that is your protection. You allow them only so far, as to keep your pieces whole and your mind intact. You do not say the words that mean so much for you do not mean them when you say them. However, you have said them and it scared the living hell out of you. Do they know that you meant it? Do they know that you do not want to take those words back, that you want them to be out there, to resonate with them, to stay with them so they know that they mean the world to at least one soul on this earth? Do they know that the insides of you are twisted in this complete and utter state of turmoil because they know that it is a such a risk loving them, for you know that it could come crashing down at any moment. That they, as you, are a complete free spirit not to be tamed, and your heart knows that at any moment the “we need to talk” conversation is right around the corner. Never have you fallen, never have you fallen for someone. You have cared, you have tripped. However, in your lifetime you have kept your balance only teetering a few times. You’re in a tail-spin of epic proportions, only holding on to the notion of “ 80”. Your heart and mind knowing what a struggle, but realizing that the wait you have had has been harder then the dance you must endure now. For now you must only hope that their dance card is not full, and that they do save the last dance for you.