During this time of New Year’s we are supposed to be happy and cheery. We are supposed to have high hopes for the rest of this year. But we get so unrealistic. Half the things people say are never going to be done. Be honest with yourself. Don’t set your expectations so high. I promise you will be disappointed. I know I have been for the past 16 years. I get more and more pessimistic each passing year. Everything just slowly slips from my grasp. Every goal I set is always something like, live your life, do something cool, make something of yourself. I am drowning in school work and other distractions that keep me from doing so. I want more than anything for this year to be different. I want to graduate and get the hell out this place. Each day that passes here I think “I’ve got to get out of here,” because I feel stuck. That is what I want out of this year. To get to the point where I don’t feel stuck. To get to where I don’t want to jump out of a window. To get to where I don’t cry myself to sleep each night. I just want to be happy. I want to not hope to die every day because I can’t do it myself. I just want to be happy. I want to get out of high school and go out into the big world and see and meet all kinds of new challenges. I want to not be afraid of death and yet want it so bad. I want to feel alive. I want to want to get out of bed each morning. But sometimes it is just so hard. To be happy. I have things. I have a home and a family. My soul just aches. My heart and head both working against me. I just want to be happy this new year.That’s all.
Feminism means we want equal rights. Socially, economically, and politically. People always make us out to be wrong. Which is one reason why I am a feminist. Feminists are not supposed to be hateful. We are supposed to stand together for anything that is thrown our way. I don’t believe that every women should be a feminist and I believe men can be feminists as well. But, if you are to become a feminist you need to learn about what you are standing for and why you’re standing for it. Being a feminist does not mean you don’t have to shave. It doesn’t mean that you have to stop wearing a bra. It doesn’t mean that you have to do anything except stand up for women. You don’t have to change anything, but your mind and other people’s minds. Once we change our own minds then we can change others. It all begins with you. Feminists need to join together not discriminate from within. All who believe in woman can stand with us, regardless of gender sexuality, race, religious beliefs, anything that you are, we accept.
The blade hits me in the stomach. The rain begins to pour. I hear fast footsteps pitter-patter my way.
“Hold on,” he holds my stomach where the blade remains. “I’m calling the police.”
“No, I like this.” I choked through my last words, my breathing slowed. I took in his face one last time. Cherishing his sharp cheek and jaw bones. I wanted to look at him forever, but knew that it was my time. His tears rolled down his cheeks. He began sobbing. I closed my eyes, “I find peace in the rain.”
“No, please. No don’t leave. I can’t live without you.” He pulled me into his chest, crying and begging me to stay. I couldn’t hear him anymore. Everything blurred, never for me to see again.
“Don’t leave me. Don’t leave me.” I whisper over and over. I am sobbing. I can’t stop. Why did she do this to me? I loved her so much. Why wouldn’t she hold on for me? I am going to find whoever did this. I will find them. I will make them feel my pain.
I hate it when I get an incredible idea. That sounds weird, but let me explain. So now I’ve got this amazing idea and I begin writing. Then I realize I have nothing to build on. I have no where to go with that idea. Words don’t flow properly. I think “Oh I’m so smart. This is the best idea ever.” Then that thought fades into “What the hell do I write next?”
Then of course there are the times where I’ve built up to this amazing part and then I blank. My mind literally shuts down and I can’t think of what I was going to write. This happens to me way to much. That maybe a personal thing, regardless it sucks. I have got this really good story idea and then it just dissappears. In the middle of my story. Screaming and shouting won’t get it back unfortunately. Scrambling to my notes looking to see if I wrote that down. But of course I didn’t. Because I think it will stay locked in my memory. I keep making that mistake. I never write my ideas down.
That brings me to my next point. Which is just that, I never write my ideas down. I’m walking down the road, a scene plays out in front of me. Perfect scene for a kidnapping or a fight or a romantic kiss. Different ideas run through my mind until I pinpoint the perfect one. Write it down stupid. Of course I ignore that and think “Oh I’ll remember.” I get to my notebook or computer and I sit there, pondering what it was I wanted to write. Nothing. I have forgotten.
Now these are just some of the struggles of writing. But writing is so beautiful. Even if there are so many points where we just want to cry and give up. But we know we can’t. We must push on. We can create amazing things. All the different worlds that we can create, the different people. We can create a person that we wish we were. We can live a whole new life from the comfort of our bedroom. Writing may be hard and we may struggle, but we love it.
Odd things dreams. We become unconscious for some hours of the day. During that time our mind works out images. If you have ever tried to interpret your dreams you’ll see that those dreams are often foreseeing things in your life. Or they are explaining your situations. Kind of odd right. Then of course there are the dreams that you create when you are awake. The big ambitious dreams of traveling the world and making the world a better place.
Dreams can take a turn for the worst. We call these nightmares. Those dreams that you don’t want to call dreams. Because dreams are supposed to be wonderful and happy. They are supposed to change us. They are supposed to make us better. The night mares cripple you. In ways that are indescribable. When you awaken, the cold sweat on your faces, panting, still trying to understand what just happened and you make sure it was just a dream. Because it seemed all too real. It seems so real that you don’t quite get that you are alive.
But alas, the nightmares often don’t end. You wake up and walk the day living it. You live a nightmare without realizing it. It seems normal to you. Dying inside and crying every night, wishing and hoping that someone will wake you up. You get to that point where you stop believing in everything and you just become numb to it all. The nightmares are nothing compared to your everyday life. All ambition and hope you have ever had just fades and dies out slowly along with you. Pulling yourself out of bed every day is too hard. The terrors of the night are much better than that of the day. You just want to stay and dream of a new world.
Then slowly the new world dies away. Every night is blackout. Nothing to see or hope for. The last piece begins to fade. You feel like you’ve been chipping away at yourself. Trying to create a better version of yourself. Trying to make yourself happy. Then one day someone comes along and they pull you up from your depths. You thought you’d never get out of this. You’d thought you would just jump and end the dream yourself. But someone came around and awakened you.
Adversity. Definition: difficulties; misfortune. Or something that makes you stronger or maybe weaker and fearful. Going through high school can be an experience. I know it was for me. When you spend the most of your life getting walked on, you realize at a point in time that it hurts. Being a push over without realizing it. Finally someone brings you to the breaking point. And you just snap. I can’t handle this anymore, why are you doing this to me? What did I do to deserve this? Thoughts like this invade your mind along with the realization that you are better than this. You can beat this struggle. You are strong and you don’t need to get pushed around all the time. You are good and kind.You are smart and creative. And you don’t need to get walked all over. This push over garbage ends now.
Awake in the middle of the night.
Cold sweat, scratching, itching.
No escape, they’re everywhere.
Run to the shower, turn the nozzle.
But instead of water, there’s more,
Pouring from the shower head,
Crawling from the drain.
Get out of here.
Bolt upright to see nothing,
Blackness all around.
The walls begin closing in,
There is no out.
The walls coming closer and closer,
Give it up.
Staring down a never ending hallway.
Run until you see an exit.
On and on, still nothing.
A door appears,
Footsteps begin behind me,
Go to the door, quick
The hall lengthens.
Pounding on the walls hoping to break through.
A glimpse of a figure.
A man appears,
Dark, no face,
One distinct feature shows,
Black as the blackest imaginable,
Like looking into the deepest abyss,
Seeing it stare back.
The hallway swirls away along with the man,
Mirrors swim into view,
My reflection begins to smile eerily,
A knife appears in my hand.
It’s driven into my thigh,
Immense pain courses throughout me
Shatter them, all of them,
My body pushes itself to the mirrors,
Throwing myself into them
Tearing my hands apart
The pieces disappear as they hit the ground,
A new room appears,
Wait, not new.
An itching sensation appears.
I see them,
Spiders crawling everywhere.
I’m back at the beginning.
If you were to meet me in real life I have absolutely no idea what you would think. Because those are your own thoughts, that I unfortunately cannot read. You have your own thought process, as I have mine. As for who I am, I do not know. I have not yet begun to understand. I do not know what I would like to do. I do not know if I want to go to college. I do not know what I like to wear. I do not know where I would rather be. But, what I do know is that I want to try everything that is possible. I want to see the world. I want to experience this world. In every aspect and at every angle, I want to see it all. Then maybe, I’ll finally know who I am.
For My Daughter
When I die choose a star
and name it after me
that you may know
I have not abandoned
or forgotten you.
You were such a star to me,
following you through birth
and childhood, my hand
in your hand.
When I die
choose a star and name it
after me so that I may shine
down on you, until you join
me in darkness and silence
He won many awards including, America’s Shelley Memorial, a Bollingen Prize, and a National Institute of Arts and Letters award.
His parents were Russian immigrants. He married a woman named Rose Graubart, she was an artist, and had a son named David, born in 1937.
Why does this poem matter to you?
A fathers love can make a persons life. When people go through the phase of I hate my parents and would rather them dead, they could read this and just remember the good times. Remember the laughter and the tickle fights. Remember having a princess tea party and playing ball in the backyard. You’ll think that one day your dad really will be gone one day. And you will regret hating him forever. You might as well love your parents while you can because they will be gone one day. You probably want to remember more of them than “I wish I had cherished them more.”
My mind is a galaxy, within it are stars and planets. Not just stars and planets, but places undiscovered. My mind the same. So filled with new ideas and thoughts unable to be processed yet. The world not yet ready to start to understand. Everyone is still trying fathom their own galaxies within their heads. How can you help me understand mine if you can’t even comprehend your own? I guess I’ll do this by myself.