Am I supposed to tell you what I’m thinking
When what I’m thinking is a sin?
Am I supposed to be so very honest
When everything is caving in?
I have seen the price of honesty,
And no commandment not to lie;
Perhaps what I’m supposed to do
Is leave the truth of me to die.
It should be noted that I am one who has, on occasion, blurted things out without properly weighing them first; and not as a result of any pressure, or what people told me I was “supposed” to do, but because I personally feel it is right to be truthful. It’s just not always smart.
We learn who we’re supposed to be
From the people in our home;
And then again from those we meet
When we go out to roam.
We learn well, eventually,
All that must be shown;
But who are we supposed to be
When we’re all alone?
All I feel now is the lie
My heart is filled with falsity
Telling me I’m angry
Never telling why
Somewhere is the truth
Anger is convenient
Despair the main ingredient
Mixed with sadness and youth
But truth carries the pain
And knowing doesn’t save me
When I know I’m going crazy
Because how could this be sane
But if this is my deceit
Then I could use a little crazy
Because the only thing to save me
Is to not admit defeat.
I am running away again;
Every question is an answer
To the problems in my head.
There’s too much in the world today
That doesn’t seem quite right,
And I must face (or else fly from)
The fact I’m not a light.
I keep looking at paths forward
And I see too many lies;
The trouble with an honest liar
Is it always comes as a surprise
When the people who should be telling truths
Are telling you what face goes best with ties,
And like something that could be boxed,
They go ahead and advertise
The person that you ought to be
To fit into the largest mold.
But I’m afraid a world like that
For me, is just too cold;
Something in me rails against
The lies we’re asked to tell.
I tell the ones I need to;
But there’s none I mean to sell.
I worry, if I write my soul,
There’s no one that would understand
And so, as if some ancient scroll,
I translate for my brave new land
But here, a word has lost its meaning
And there, a tune has lost its singing
And somewhere along the way has gone
The very thing that I wished put to song.
And yet, I worry, if I write my soul,
No one could ever understand
And maybe, the glass might be half full,
But that doesn’t mean it’s not half full of sand.
And, who could be that keen on drinking?
Better to reign as queen of over-thinking:
And decree instead of glasses, better a box,
And better still to double-check it locks.
Tell me how they know
When to leap and when to stay;
Tell me where to go
When everywhere’s a way.
Tell me what you see
When there’s nothing left to say;
Please, just stay with me
When I know I’ve gone astray.
Dear… Well, you.
So, you’ve been having a weird time lately. You had a boyfriend. For like a week. Realized you fell short of your own ideals, and weren’t actually ready for that kind of relationship. Yes: it turns out that you’re really not so different from everyone else. You, too, act out in anger and frustration. You, too, can let fear and loneliness drive you.
But that’s not such a terrible realization.
You got to talk to your sister because of it. She called you out, and you were glad of it. You get so tired of the hiding; It’s nice to speak honestly about things. You even talked with Mom a little. And you got to spend a little time with someone outside your family. You expected all of the worst things when you realized what you had to tell him; but he actually surprised you. Perhaps he’ll continue to. Perhaps not. But you’re thankful anyway.
It made you think of things that make you cry; Friendships lost because of your own foolishness. It happened so slow and quiet. They still live right next door, and yet they feel a world away. How can you ask their forgiveness? How can you pretend you’re anything more than a wreck of a person? You don’t feel you can. You’ve given what signals you know how to, in the past, hoping that maybe they’ll catch on and reach back. But they have their own lives. You’re trying to accept that. You wonder if maybe you should just get over it and move on. But they’re still like family to you.
Your sister has said that everyone has their own lives, and that yours and theirs aren’t mutually exclusive. Believing that can be hard. There’s still the thought that you’re more than you think you are — that you’re actually worse. Like maybe you’re a serial killer in the making. You’re pretty sure you’ve scared your sister with comments like that before; With doubts in your own sanity, nonchalant remarks of things you worry might be serious. But you’re not sure what else to do.
But come, if the past month or two has taught you anything, it’s that you need to learn to look beyond all the doom and gloom. You’re capable of more than you realize. And while staying in your head may seem safer, what’s in your head will never surprise you. You will always be alone.
And as it turns out, you don’t like that so much.
So, with much love
Shall I call down Death from on his throne,
An abdication to declare?
For his lordship over worst of woes
Has a challenger!
Often it’s been whispered
That there’s a thing that’s worse than Death;
And it’s this very thing that’s snickered
As I’ve cursed under my breath!
It’s a nuisance I can scarce compare…
(Do tell if you’ve a metaphor to lend!)
And I call myself a poetry connoisseur —
But no, meter is not my friend!
Sorry for being absent these last few days. Had some things on my mind… Still do. But let’s see if we can work poetry into it, eh? Just don’t expect perfect meter. I’ve never been able to fully wrap my mind around that…
I don’t want to be easy…
But I don’t want to be cruel.
How to be what I need to be,
When I don’t know what I need to be at all?
I don’t want to be weak…
But I can feel myself trembling.
Curse my unsteady heart!
And curse conflicted logic, that darned uncertain thing!
Because I don’t want to be foolish;
But I’m not sure which is not:
To be alone forever,
Or to take the chances that always may be fraught?
If all the world is flat to you,
How on earth do you crush?
But still there was that one or two
Who said they had a crush on you,
While you’d just look confused, and blush.