Monday, October 22, 2007

Hinc Illae Lacrimae

There has been many a time in my life
when I knew
I was different, but none so obvious as these past days.
No matter how hard I push to fill shoes that have been given to me,
I trip, stumble
I want to take them
off and walk barefoot, throw the shoes
to the sea, watch them sink.
They are not me.
They rub the wrong way
and cause much pain.
They don't fit.
But someone decided that they looked
nice, and now I can not bear to take them
off for fear of being left
alone
in this world.
I can see how others look at
me, as if I am
wearing their glasses.
This girl looks like she has no
self-confidence,
does not believe in herself.
It's not true. What this girl really lacks
is the ability to make those around her see her
for who she really is,
for her own wings
and the beauty in them.
She can only try to be
the things that others expect to see,
because it is what they are looking for,
it is what they will notice.
But it hurts.
It is not genuine, nor has it ever been.
I'm not sure how she does it.
Every morning I wake up and I see myself
in the mirror.
Today I saw only my toes;
I couldn't look myself in the eyes.
Am I lying to myself? I sure feel like it sometimes.
I have been taught a great many things
about how to be the right person
to fill these shoes.
I know what people look for,
and I know the theory behind why it works.
I know how to get certain reactions
if I so choose, and what happens if I don't.
But I can not make any of it seem important enough
to actually push through and
do it
I can not push myself to be dishonest with myself.
I am,
everyday,
being dishonest with myself,
and therefore the world.
I have no drive,
no will power,
no motivation,
no interests.
I care for nothing,
and while that should bother
me and drive me to do
something about it, it doesn't.
I sink deeper.
I am lost in the waves,
the current, and then
the ocean floor.
I am a rock;
NO.
I am a million little pieces shoved together as one.
I can do nothing
without the outward force of another.
I lie still until
I am forced to move, and when
I finally move
I do so insignificantly,
or by causing much distruction.
I roll down hills,
I crush things,
I smash windows,
I bury bodies.
I break down.
I break down
again, this time
into smaller and smaller pieces
until
I
am
sand
until I am obliviously tiny
until I am unnoticeably small.
until I no longer exist at all.
I find myself
in a garden.
When I break down,
I can nurture that which is
around me, and then I am no longer
breaking anything, but
creating.
I redirect my distructive
energy and put it to something
useful.
Right now I am
self-distructing.
I cannot create
when I am here.
I
self
distruct