The yellow line of the road pounded against her eyes as her headlights illuminated it, causing her head to spin slightly. She was driving a little too fast. She hadn’t passed another car for a few miles and took the opportunity to flick on her bright lights, causing the yellow line to shine even brighter, again rocking her corneas. She was so happy, driving late at night to meet no one as not a soul wondered of her whereabouts. She thought the idea made her happy, but she was gravely disappointed as a twinge of self-loathing hit her once again. Here she was, alone, her ugliness keeping men away, keeping a husband and lover away. She wanted someone. She had spent the whole evening, alone; thinking of beautiful poetry, alone; watching a romance movie, alone. And people wondered why she hated herself. If no one else could love her, why should she? She looked over out the window for a moment to look down at the yellow line, guiding her down the road. Why couldn’t she have some sort of line leading to her soul mate? Why didn’t she deserve to feel special and beautiful like everyone else? Why was she so horribly ugly?
Wednesday, November 23, 2011
Sunday, November 13, 2011
Block
I feel your vibrations in my head;
Just shut up and stop talking.
Don’t tell me that this isn’t special again.
I know it is, this is so important.
You’re beginning to tear me apart,
But I won’t let you, be quiet.
This is special; it’s magical, spectacular.
I don’t care if you leave, I’m not.
No more will my dreams be crushed-
You’re just another person to try.
Go away and find someone else, please.
I’m not letting go of the special again.
I’m so close to being somewhere great.
I’m inches from making my mark.
I can feel the magic at my fingertips.
If you stop me, who knows what I will do.
Step back, I’m warning you, beware.
I’m at the point that you should be afraid.
No one is stopping me again, nothing.
This is my time, this is my opportunity.
It is calling out
And I am answering.
I will block you before I miss this call.
Down in the Dumps
You should know by now that I write when I'm down. All of these are one of those times.
I’ve lost the grip of my past, of what things used to be.
I’m losing sight of my future; I’ve given up on dreams.
I’m waiting for a man that doesn’t exist.
I’m striving to be loved in a way that no one will.
I’m earning a degree that will leave me financially unstable.
I desire things that deteriorate quickly.
I try to fill myself with confidence that fades with a mirror.
I criticize people while the plank sits in my own eye.
I cling to a religion that my life does not represent.
I fight myself everyday to lose the battle continually.
What have I become?
I would destroy the moon, vacuum the atmosphere, dry up the oceans, burn the forests, and annihilate the human race for one man to love me. I’d be willing to drop everything and leave everything for a man to honestly believe that I’m beautiful. I would spend the rest of my life rotting in a jail cell for a man to desire my heart. I want to be loved, but no one wants to love me. Without a man to love me, my children cease to ever be able to exist; my studies are meaningless; my childhood, wasted; my future, grim. It’s over.
I was murdered a year ago
And you forgot that I was ever here.
What am I supposed to do when you say ‘no’?
You called yourself names, but none were true.
I’m not the person I was when you cared.
Hard times have changed me.
You let me go and didn’t come back.
Your luck ran out and now I’m gone for good.
I’m waiting for you, but I’m starting to wonder if you even exist.
I’m killing myself with these love songs, thinking I’ll never have that.
I don’t want a boy, I want a man.
I want to be loved, desired, wanted.
But you don’t exist.
I am not anything for anyone.
I’m sorry its come to this, but I’m letting my imagination go.
You’re free from my memory now
And I’m embracing the lonely life.
The Smell
I wrote this a while ago, but only posted it on Facebook. So, here we go.
Today, walking along Calhoun, cold wind beating against my face, warmth of a coffee warming my fingertips, I smelled something. It hit me and I could not help but stop, dead in my tracks in the middle of the sidewalk, frozen not from the temperature but from the emotion. The smell was familiar; it made me feel safe, loved, home. No words could describe it and my mind could not pinpoint its source or a name to the wonderful scent.
Continuing on my way, into the courtyard between Berry and Lightsey, I settled down at a table, pulling my coffee to my lips to be warmed once again. I let my mind relax and I let my body respond to the cold, sending goose bumps up my arms.
Then I smelled it again.
Again, I felt the feeling of delight, joy, safety, love. It calmed me in a way that nothing else can. But this time, I knew what it was - it was the smell of winter.
Immediately, my mind was invaded with memories of being piled in the car with my entire family as we drove out to James Island for the Festival of Lights; of setting up the Christmas tree with my siblings as my parents looked on and prepared each ornament; of the daily changing the number of days until Christmas on the chalkboard; of being tackled by my sister at the crack of dawn on Christmas morning to wake up; of my father starting a fire as the family collected in the living room to open presents; of my brother’s smiling face as he rocked himself in pure excitement to open his present; of the smell of my father’s famous Christmas Breakfast Casserole cooking in the oven; of the sound of my father’s powerful voice recounting the story of the birth of Christ; of the yells of excitement as presents were passed out; of the joyful noise of ripping paper as each gift was strategically opened; of the sight of the tears of my mother as she was overjoyed by her children’s happiness; of crazy chaos of my brother and father attempting to figure out the intricate workings of a toy helicopter; of the beautiful love between my sister and her new husband on their first Christmas together.
Family. Love. Safety. Joy. Delight. Home. The smell of winter is the smell of home.
2011 v. 1870
2011
I sat on the bench, laptop in lap, sounds of cars running on George Street behind me, and twisting my foot on an acorn in an attempt to crush it. The Cistern was bustling around me with couples picnicking, other students studying, professors conversing over their classes, and a Charleston tour making its way through Porter’s Lodge. However, I was engrossed in my studying of Italian. I wasn’t taking an Italian class, although I would love to, but I was planning on a Study Abroad trip to Italy over the summer and I wanted to be prepared.
My stomach growled and realizing that I had forgotten lunch, I reached in my book bag for an apple. I unraveled it from the paper towel, cleaned it against my t-shirt, and immediately took a hard bite. I never lost any focus on my Italian. I was too determined to become fluent to not focus.
My English homework sat idly next to me, another language taking precedence at the moment. I knew I needed to do well in school for the trip to New York during Christmas break, but I just loved learning other languages. It took up my time, too. Speaking of the trip, I thought of how I needed to book the flights and find a hotel. It was going to be so wonderful to just get away and go to somewhere as magical and alive as New York City.
I stopped my studying for a moment and looked around me. Everything seemed so perfect. The weather was perfectly delightful, everyone I could see was happy, and I was on my way to experience the world.
Suddenly my laptop continued in the lesson.
“Cosa stai facendo?”
What are you doing? The question made me smile and I internally replied, “Experiencing the world.” I may be young, but I’m going to do it.
1870
I sat on the bench, book in hand, sounds of carriages running on George Street behind me, and twisting my foot on an acorn in an attempt to crush it. The Cistern was bustling around me with couples picnicking, boys studying, professors conversing over their classes, and a man leading two slaves to the market. However, I was engrossed in my studying of Italian. I wasn’t supposed to be reading anything, although I love to, but I was planning on a secret trip to Italy over the summer and I wanted to be prepared.
My stomach growled and realizing that I had forgotten lunch, I reached in my satchel for an apple. I unraveled it from the handkerchief, cleaned it against my dress, and immediately took a hard bite. I never lost any focus on my Italian. I was too determined to become fluent to not focus.
The shopping list Mother gave me sat idly next to me, Italian taking precedence at the moment. I knew I needed to do for Mother for her to approve the trip to New York during Christmas time, but I just loved learning. It took up my time, too. Speaking of the trip, I thought of how I needed to speak to Father of whether we were going by carriage or train. It was going to be so wonderful to just get away and go to somewhere as magical and alive as New York City.
I stopped my studying for a moment and looked around me. Everything seemed so perfect. The weather was perfectly delightful, everyone I could see was happy, and I was on my way to experience the world.
I looked back down on my book to be greeted by the text on the page.
“Cosa stai facendo?”
What are you doing? The question made me smile and I internally replied, “Experiencing the world.” I may be a woman, but I’m going to do it.
Sunday, November 6, 2011
NEWS!
I know I haven't been posting much lately because school ate me, but I have big news! My dad just released his first book and all of you should check it out! Here's the link:
It's an amazing novel explaining how to apply the Bible to your life, but in the form of FICTION (for us young folks, that's another word for GOOD). Anyways, it's amazing!
If you're interested in buying, there are many options for us Americans, but for inhabitants of other countries (i.e. Great Britain, France, Germany, etc.), simply go to Amazon respectively.
Hope you get the book and enjoy!
