Saturday, September 3, 2011

My favorite sound

They say that a smell can bring back memories but I also believe certain sounds can stir the same emotions. For me it's the sound of a spoon stirring coffee, then clanging on the side of the cup, and being laid back down on the counter. That simple sound brings me back to laying in bed in the fresh morning light just waking up. The house would still be dark and quiet but I knew that sound was my dad getting up. It was that sound that made me feel warm and safe again. I was always so terribly afraid of the dark but that sound made me realize I had made it through another night and I was safe because my dad was awake and just in the next room. 

Friday, September 2, 2011

Why I write

I enjoy writing and have since I was a teenager. Mostly I write poetry but occasionally I'll write a short story. Blogging is great because even though many people may not read it, it still makes me feel like I'm getting my stuff out there to share with the world. Ok my mom and a few friends but to me that is my world. Writing for me is very therapeutic. It allows me to vent my frustration and once I see it on paper it's as if I can let it go. It's not inside haunting me anymore. I can look at it and evaluate it to determine its worth. Usually once I say it out loud I can see how impractical those feelings are and can start to heal from it. If those feelings actually have merit than it gives me a way to confront them and I can start to plan a course of action. I also have learned to write as I think other people may be feeling. I enjoy this because it gives me a better perspective on what they may be thinking. The following poem is one a wrote a few weeks ago. It's something that I've been dealing with and have been scared to admit. But writing it down and admitting it has taken the fear away and as I said I have started to heal and move on. 


Depression?
Why can't anyone see how unhappy I am?
Why do they just assume I've gone mad again?
Don't mind her, she's just crazy. I mean have you seen who she was raised by? 
But what if it's more than that?
What if I was lied to?
I can't remember this being what I signed up for. 
I always thought there would be more. 
What I'm not quite sure, but more.
Still, I don't like being this girl.
So needy yet so independent.
Surrounded by loneliness.
They should never tell little girls fairytales it only leaves them empty as women.