Aside

I Am Free

I am nothing but a soul trying to find peace
I have been beaten down to no return.
My mind is fragile, my confidence scarred
Think positive, but all I produce is negative
I feel as if I wander looking for something
Something that I cannot find
I search I search I search
I crawl, I walk, I run
Happiness, I guess that’s what I’m searching for
Or maybe it’s peace,
Hope, Or love
Love for myself once again
Love for me and my being.
I am locked. Trapped like an animal.
I try to claw my way out
But instead I end up being buried alive
I am suffocating.
It is debilitating, crushing.
Why oh why did this happen to me?
I suppose it was just a twist of fate.
If only I could see a little light
And breathe a little bit of fresh air
Maybe then this feeling will wash away
And I can finally say

I am free.

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The Painting

The thought of life gives me the chills, the shakes, the nerves, and everything in that category and some in between. There are so many changes, and I’m not sure how to digest them all. I categorize the changes instead, from least worrisome to the most worrisome. The ones that I can deal with.. and the ones that I feel that I cannot. It’s just life, I know. I have so many people surrounding me and supporting me, but sometimes the loneliness still strikes. It strikes so hard that it reverberates in my bones and it ricochets into my mind. In and out these thoughts flow. In and out my breathing goes as it gets faster and faster and more shallow. Everything becomes sensitive.. I try to remain cool, calm, and collected.. But, how? How, when it feels like everything is so far gone.

I close my eyes and try to imagine a new reality. One where the sunrises are vivid and the sunsets look like a beautiful canvas painting. I try to paint myself smiling, happy, and with eyes that are filled with glee. In my mind, the world looks bright. The colors are stunning and bright, just like my endless possibilities. The artist of this world is one that knows how to paint a beautiful picture. The artist in my mind knows how to paint situations to mask the real emotions. Slap a happy green, yellow, or purple over those drab blues and greys that have taken over my mind. Paint a face with a beaming smile to cover that frown. The artist in me has to make sure that smile has teeth showing, though. The artist has studied her audience a lot. She has learned that her audience, everyday people, think you are the happiest when you smile with teeth. Alas, the artist in me says she is finished with the current project. She tells me to open my eyes. I open them, and I think that I will see a gorgeous painting in front of me. Instead I see a painting that I do not want to see. I see a painting of a world that is ugly. The colors are mute and depressing. Instead of drowning my problems in the painting, they are showcased. I thought the artist in me was going to paint over this! I thought she was going to give me something happy and joyful. Instead I am left staring at a painting of my own problems, insecurities, and emotions that I wanted to cover. Perhaps it is time to stop covering them, but instead face them. Face the hideous colors as they are.

Daddy

hey daddy. It’s me, olivia. You know, your youngest daughter. Do you remember?

I can tell it takes you a minute to recognize me. Well, I go to MC now. I’m a junior and an english literature major. Do you remember when I told you that?

I’ve missed you so much, daddy. I hope that you have missed me, too. The smallest things make me think of you and our memories. Oh please daddy say you remember.

you’ve changed. You’re a different person now. You still have the same gentle soul, but now you possess a broken mind. What happened, daddy?

Do you remember yourself before we were told you have early on set dementia? Do you remember when you taught me how to ride a bike? Do you remember when you helped me with my science projects? Do you remember my high school gradation? Daddy, please remember.

It breaks my heart to see you live like this. In a constant state of inner turmoil and confusion.

But daddy sometimes you show flickers of who you used to be. Sometimes you are who you were.. But only for a few seconds. I wish that those times would last forever. Daddy, I know you’re still here. Are the memories tucked away somewhere?

You speak and try to make conversation. Your words are jumbled and you now have a stutter. Sometimes I wish that I could just grab you and shake you so you would be back to normal!

Daddy! Daddy! Why did this have to happen to you?

Some days feel so hard daddy. Some days it feels like I just can’t do it anymore. Can you hear me daddy? Will you remember what I’m saying?

Please, if you don’t remember anything else, just remember that I love you.

And I know you love me to

Conversations with Myself

“What do you love about me?”

“Oh gosh. Why do you ask me questions like this? I hate them.”

“Please, just answer the question. I just want to know. You can actually answer it, right? Or, do you actually have to dig deep for an answer? I didn’t think the question was hard.”

“Well, I find that the answer to your question changes. It may change hourly, daily, weekly, whatever. Some days the things that I love about you are your downfall. Sometimes the things that I love about you today are the things that I hate the next day. It’s complicated. Before, I used to crave and wish that you were someone else. I didn’t love you, and I rarely liked you. Your seemingly permanent insecurity was disgusting. It was something that I hated. There were always endless excuses on why you couldn’t and wouldn’t do something. They were hollow and baseless. Your thoughts were something that was vile. They poisoned you… I often wondered why you would do this to me…..”

“Are you just going to spew hateful things? The question I asked you was not relevant to your answer. Why must you always bring up those days. They are gone and they are buried. Tell me. What do you love about me? When you see me what emotions flicker and flutter across your mind and being? What thoughts consume you when you see me? What are the words you wish to tell me? Are my thoughts and actions still baseless and hollow? Or have they gotten some substance now? Surely there must be something within me that you love. Or do you just loathe every inch of me?”

“You’re never satisfied with the answer. Of course there are things that I love about you. I dare not hate every inch of your being. Do you feel as if I do? There are things that I love about you. In truth, there are many things. Well I’ll start off like this. I don’t want to randomly list things off that I love. You are not a bag of groceries that I must check off. There’s a certain type of comfort that I feel in you. Your being is simply intoxicating. Why? Ask yourself why isn’t it. The way your eyes glisten and gleam is lovely. You are learning to find a beauty in life now. I would say that is what I love the most. No, you are not perfect, and I will not tell you that. I have no urge to tell you that. However-

“Please stop. Your answer is vague. It seems generic, almost rehearsed. What is the honest truth? What is the honest answer? Maybe there’s more digging that needs to be done. Why am I even asking this question. What do you love about me… What a ridiculous question. I see the answer everyday. I answer my own question everyday… Nevermind. I wish to know no more. “