Letting My Feelings Out

MY NAME IS JACKIE
AND NO ONE CARES
MY NAME IS JACKIE
IT IS I SWEAR
MY HAIR IS BLONDE
WELL NOT ANYMORE
MY EYES ARE BLUE
NOT AS BLUE AS BEFORE
I USED TO KNOW
HOW TO LIVE IN THE NOW
I USED TO KNOW
BUT HAVE FORGOTTEN HOW
I THINK ABOUT YESTERDAY
A LOT IT SEEMS
I THINK ABOUT TOMORROW
AND WONDER WHAT IT MEANS
WONDER WHAT IT MEANS
TO FEEL LIKE I'VE DIED
WONDER WHY I WANT
TO ALWAY HIDE
HIDE FROM THOUGHTS
AND THESE THINGS I FEEL
HIDE FROM THIS LIFE
THAT DOESN'T SEEM REAL


and this is only poetry that expresses temporary and unimportant feelings so don't make too much of it

have you ever noticed that the word poetry looks funny like it is saying poet try

yes i know i am strange what can i say

Sometimes It's All Too Much

Today is not a good day. Then again everyday seems to not be a good day. It's all too much sometimes and I wish it would all go away. I wish I could be the person that makes it all right,that knows all the answers and that can lead the way. The fact is I'm not. I am as lost as a person could be and I want someone to show me the way or I really want the way to just appear like magic. I am scared all the time now; scared that it's all going to come to an end or maybe that isn't the word. It feels like an avalanche that started with a pebble so small but building so fast and now the mountainside is coming down. I feel like I am being buried under an avalanche of worry, regrets, fear, and an active dislike for myself. Sometimes, because I can't figure out how to make it all better and make it all work I want the darkness I feel on the edge of my life to close in and enfold me in the finality of the end.

Let's Pretend Category: Life
Exactly what is pretend, make-believe, play-acting? What is it for and does it come natural or do we teach it to our children. Why do human's pretend? What kind of defense mechanism is it. For I really believe it must be just that. If life involves you fully why pretend at anything; there would be no time or room for it. I guess pretending when you are a child is a way of learning; a way of taking the information you are absorbing and sorting it out. Yet that same learning mechanism in children can become a defense mechanism in adults. Sure adults pretend or play-act at times for entertainment but also to hide what is the reality of their life. The evolvement of the human brain has made us incapable of being satisfied with the day to day existence of survival. We are always seeking more and are not always sure what that more is. Thus we pretend. We pretend to know what we are doing. We pretend to know what we want. We pretend to be satisfied and happy. We pretend that anything matters at all. When all along the reality of life is basic. Eat, sleep , and other bodily functions and everything else is there to support those basics. We are just beings being born, growing, and dying. Nothing really matters; it is just existence. So we will pretend it matters then maybe it will. We will pretend to know and then maybe we will. We will pretend to be complete and maybe the emptyness will leave us alone. I don't really know; after all I am only pretending

memories

I read an article in a magazine about writing your memoirs. I guess I thought memoirs were the same as writing your autobiography but according to the article this is not so. The article stated that memoirs are what it sounds like, memories written as though you were reliving them. The only problem I have with the concept is that my memory is not quite what it used to be. I tend to remember like I dream; in snippets and bits. More a since of the memory than the detail of the memory. In fact if I try to remember so things my mind starts to perceive the memory as imagined. So that leaves me in a state of confusion with a sense of loss. Like a part of myself that I have "remembered" is no longer real so a part of myself is gone. Since we live such busy lives and so many events occur during those lives, our memory bank can get very full. I believe that some memories get compressed to make room for new. They don't go away but become increasingly difficult to access. And since there is so much information flying past us at all times our memories become sullied with bits and pieces that don't belong. Thus when the memory is accessed it may not be totally true to the actual event. This fact makes a person wary of writing ones memoirs. Afraid that the memory they are writing about might not actually be their own or totally imagined. Very much like those tales that old men tell getting bigger with each telling. So I think that I would much rather write memories with disclaimer at the front warning the reader that the memories is based on a fact but may not be totally factual.

My world has gone to a strange shade of gray. Not totally without color but yet not showing any sign of the intensity of a colorful life. Nothing major is the reason for this and it may be just my perceptions of things. I am after all no longer a young woman nor am I yet an elderly woman. I am something in between which might be the reason for the gray. No longer where I once was yet not quite where I will be just here. Here in a place that confuses me and makes me hide. Hide from the memories of youth that I long for; hide from the fear of age that I dread. Leaving me without the ability to live my life at this moment to the fullest thus wasting the precious minutes I have been given. Yes I am aware that this self-pity and fear and lethargy is wasting the small amount of time I have been allotted in this world yet I do not know how to shake this angst. I pray for some sign or a jolt of energy to help me in this time of gray.

When Someone Lifts You Up

I have this young friend who I work with. I have known her since she was a shy and bit introverted teenager. As she got older and life touched her more we has some amazing conversation. Sometimes the content might have seemed questionable to her mother but she has such a questioning mind that I would forget myself. With time I began to realize that I needn't watch myself while conversing with her because she wasn't quite as innocent and naive as she would have people think. Our conversations covered a diverse range of subjects and most of the time I would just ramble on. She is like a sponge just absorbing all that she hears. Sometimes we disagree and there have been times that I think she might have judged me a bit harshly for decisions I made in my life. Still when she received all the facts she might have softened her judgements a bit. If anything this young friend of mind is fairminded. The main object of this post is to let the world and her know of her unique ability to build people up. To make them feel that the words and thoughts that come from them are of interest and importance. This is not a small ability let me tell you. In a world that can make you feel small and insignificant what great gift than a friend who make you feel like you are seen and heard. This is just my small way of saying thank you.

conversations

I remember a time when I could sit with my little boy and talk and talk and think this boy has a mind that is looking for answers. I knew I wouldn't be able to give him answers because I have always looked for them too. I tried to give him thoughts to roll around in his mind to maybe help him find his own answers. I truly believe there are not specific answers to the questions we all have about life. That there are only answers specific to ourselves and we and we alone are the ones that have to find them. It would be so much easier if there were specific answers and we could be comfortable taking those answers and living life accordingly. It could very well be that there are specific answers and I am just unable to comprehend the rights and wrongs of life. I don't really know; I can only know how I think and feel. I can listen and ponder what others tell me but in the end, how and when I use what I have heard,is essentially an answer I have come up with, making it my answer and mine only. Even if the answer is very very similar to someone else's answer it is still stamped with my interpretation of how things are and should be, thus making it unique and mine. I am not sure if this makes any sense but then again there comes into play the uniqueness that makes up each individual. I can only hope that my son someday understands that we are all looking for answers and that all the answers that are found have some merit even if they don't look like the ones he has found.