On the personal

She’s Only Twelve Years Old

I feel like I’m 12.  Sad, sorry age to feel . . . .all empty, lonely, desperate not to go home.  Becky, my birth mother, has come to pick me up at Michelle’s house.  I spent the last night or two at her house.  Now it’s time to go home, and I’m on Michelle’s house steps  crying because I feel so lost.   I’m 12 years old again.  Except my home is different, and I’m supposed to be much older.  But tonight I am her.  Empty. Loney.  Desperate.   Tonight I came home from traveling 300 miles to my in-laws, …

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Estoy dejando ir

I want to let go. There are no fluffy words or poetic sentiments I can muster tonight. My thoughts are halted by the regime of exhaustion and apathy. I want to speak, but the air devours my words before they may be heard. I have not felt this alone in many dark moons. Helpless. Hopeless. I want to let go. I’ve reached the place where the existential self is at peace. There exists no more fighting. We’ve laid down our swords and our hopes at the same time. I do not believe in history. It is deceiving. It’s promises can …

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Self-Inflicted Solitaire

Originally dated 12-29-2012 Updated 1-1-2018 Though I still suffer from social anxiety, I’ve made a lot of progress and things are much better since this older post. ________________________________________________________________ Self-Inflicted Solitaire Emptiness lingers on inside, A constant, unyielding pain, Competing with despair that thrives While the blues pour down a drenching rain. A hollow wind storms in my conscious, Acutely aware of what never will be, As troops of sadness methodically marches Chanting songs of pain and misery. Loneliness strangles attempts at laughter. Alienation has given birth to an ache. Time has been wasted constantly chasing after Part of a world that threw me away. Isolation becomes an obligatory guard When fumbles at acceptance fall short …

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Silence of the dead

I don’t want to talk about it. I don’t want to talk about how heavy my heart is. I don’t want to talk about how hopeless I am. I don’t want to talk about how lonely I am. I don’t want to talk about how fat I feel. I don’t want to talk about how I broke my heart. I don’t want to talk about how I’d rather be dead. I love my dog. Sweet potato fries (yummy!), Quorn chik’n patty with avocado, homemade banana bread, salad with Edamame, Jicama, greens, carrots, and red bell pepper, and pineapple. Kiwi fruit …

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Question Asked, Question Answered Part 2

Castor Girl asked a question of me in a post on May 8 regarding our loneliness and what was causing it. She asked, “Do you know what’s happened to you to make you feel so lonely?” Several events have taken place that explain the recent onset of loneliness. First, I started reading a book called Beating Ana, and in this book the author asserts that relationships replace eating disorders. We began to think about this idea and began to see the trueness of the words. For so long we’ve turned down offers to see movies, go shopping, or have lunch …

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Back in the saddle, again.

I forget without peeking exactly how long it’s been since I lasted posted. I was hoping to post while on holiday in Charleston but that didn’t happen. Charleston. They were the best of times. They were the worst of times. (C. Dickens for you.) It’s hard to remember chunks of hours out ot the days. The members were all stoked and on stand-by because we had our god-daughters and we are determined that their childhood be not so ill-fated as ours. We did the usual Charleston-touristy things vacationers do: take a fourty minute boat ride out to some shambles of …

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