Doodles of the disturbed mind, Pt. 2

Behind the wall

I have a secret words

will never find,

images I tucked

away.

I once heard a voice.

It beckoned me,

singing,

tell me your secrets,

your hopes and fears

and jealousies.

I whispered back in the

safest voice I could

reveal,

my dreams mean nothing

to you.

Essay, When I Was Twelve, 1989 (excerpt)

After a couple of weeks, my mom started getting weekend passes  To me it was the greatest thing since God knows what, to actually get to see my mother at home.  She would come on Saturdays, go grocery shopping, and take me out for lunch. Then she'd make homemade soup for the week, and have dinner with me and Steve.  Joan and Dad were always conveniently gone when Mom was home.  I was glad - I didn't want them around to ruin it.  But then she'd always go back, and I'd be stuck with my dad again.

Lady Pourpre

Diary entry, April 15, 1981

It’s been bad for me because my mom and dad are getting divorced.  We did a school play yesterday.  We were the Spanish dancers.

Special, 2015

Did you tell me I would be broken

when you called me special

Did you call me hopeless

when I begged for forgiveness

Because now I am crawling

waiting for tomorrow

With a today so very desperate

that yesterday is hiding

There is no more point here

I shout into the echo

But I can feel nothing

other than I am special

Special for your weakness

Special for my survival

Special is what kills me

I cannot defy it

But I am sane and you are not

and here we are and there I was

when I cannot breathe out loud

lest you hear me moving

Far out of your orbit

spinning in slow motion

Trying to shout louder

than a kitten’s mewling

Will the planets find me

all my silent crying

Now I can feel nothing

only my plates shifting

Into old arrangements

nothing ever changes

If you could have loved me

let me be ordinary

The world would have opened

the stars would have held me

But now I am so special

the goddess of your nothing

What you poured inside of me

it was not for growing

It was all for killing

what was only dying

to be loved at all...

Diary entry, May 24, 2013

Today was the last day of the move.  I cried a little.  If only I could blame someone other than myself.

There is nothing else to say.  I’m pretty sure now it’s all crap, that I’m just sort of winging it and confusing myself.  I wish someone could unscrew my head, have a look inside, and say, “Yep, I see the problem.  Just need to replace a few parts and it will all work fine again.”