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The Questions
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The Questions |
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7 Member
since 2000-04-26
Posts 113Amherst, MA, USA |
What are you willing to let go? "I don't like that I make you so happy and so sad at the same time. I don't like it one bit." It wasn't an angry tone, more like hurt. Hurt and yet not blaming me. He always took the blame. There was so little I could actually say to him. He would talk for hours about people and experiences I'd never known. He had seen the world from outside the walls of this town, seen the world I feared so much. "Why do you think of me as superior to you? Why can't you just see me as an equal?" Because there is no equality, I want to say. I am willing to look you in the eye when the Earth stops turning and equality is thrown off balance. I am willing to talk to you when the Earth speeds up and circles the sun three times and I am allowed to live in your world. I don't answer. I watch the sun set over my compact universe and wish it would forget its schedule and go wild. I will let go when time does. What can stop you? "****ing fag. Get your gay ass out of here" My eyes jumped from my math assignment to the face of the coward beside me. The boy walking by hadn't heard the whispered insult, but I had. I began the speech I'd gotten so sick of reciting to the bigots of my school. "I don't want to hear those words. Not only is there nothing wrong with homosexuality but you're offending-" He laughed. "You guys, come here. This ***** is preaching about gay rights and ****." His laughter echoed from their faces. Their eyes mocked me. "I'm serious!" "Yeah you're serious. Too serious. Lighten up. I bet you haven't had a day of fun in your life." I clammed up and turned away, wanting to be a party girl, one of those carefree ditzes who lets nothing bother her. Nobody likes a stiff. What is mine? It's one of those moments when there are so many conflicting emotions that I'm afraid I'll literally explode, like a tree swaying against a thousand different winds… I cannot choose… give in to the warm arms around me and satisfy my thirst for his sweet kiss, or stand on my own, ignoring whatever gifts or vices he may provide, because he hurt me. No matter how much I try to deny it, he did. I loved him and he knew it and he took advantage of me anyway. Simple as that. No beautiful metaphor because it wasn't beautiful at all. That's a lie. It was, and still is, beautiful just to be in his presence… but only when we touch. So now I just don't know. Before I can decide if he is mine, leaving me alone and unanswered, a sentence with three dots and a question mark. But what is beautiful? "I love you," she says, and means it. Simple words, without conditions. An unquestionable truth: friendship is the purest kind of love. All the rest fades away. The feelings that frustrate and anger me, leaving me hungry for more. As Jewel says, "What's simple is true." So why can't I be satisfied with beauty and instead long for pain and drama? What is right? "Who are you to decide what's right?" "Who are you?" Right and wrong divide us… and yet nobody knows, really, what is right. And even if you know, you can't convince the rest of the world. As I sit in the company of kind, honest people, I know this is right. But something inside me twists it into wrong. What is important? Every gesture made me tremble. He was 18, a senior, and somehow I, a boy-phobic freshman, was important enough to be graced with his presence. He determined with a sophisticated air that I had a "smiling complex," because I was always smiling when he saw me. Little did he know, or maybe not so little, it was all for him. He would tease me with his flirtatious presence, not knowing that that presence was the most important thing in my life. But now my eyes were glued to my math book, as he wasn't looking at me so I didn't want to reveal my infatuation. Besides, I had a test the next day and hadn't even thought to tear my mind away from him long enough to study. "Math homework?" He laughed. "Don't bother with that ****." I looked up, astounded that he was graduating near the top of his class and yet he didn't realize the importance of studying and grades. "Why not?" "Because," he said, leaning back carelessly and brushing a stray lock of dark brown hair out of his godlike blue eyes, "it's not that important. Nothing matters." "Oh." And what do you want? I sit in a dimly lit closet waiting for my sound cue. Nobody knows where I am, and nobody cares. And for once, neither do I. Solitude. Finally I find happiness in simply being by myself. Of course I want someone to share it with, but so far I haven't found that someone. So right now, I just want to be alone. I used to hide backstage in tears, silently praying that someone would come and tell me they love me and that everything would be okay. But when that happened it just wasn't enough. Not what I wanted after all. Because it was never the right person. And, for now, the only right person is right here, writing until there are no words, because writing will save me and give me myself. What can you give? I write. No matter what they say, I have beautiful thoughts to share, and I will share them. I hide my paper from the eyes of my classmates for fear of appearing sentimental. If they read this they would laugh. So what I have to give must wait. What do you ask for? I don't use words to ask for things. Not meaningful things at least. I don't want to be the kind of person who asks for attention, for love, but that's what I do every time I cry, even in silence. The truth is we all ask for love in some way or another. If we refuse to verbalize it, the question makes itself visible in other ways, in worse ways. Until one day you decide to ask. What can you reveal? "Everything, every act is selfish. No matter what, even if you're giving all your food to starving people, it's because of how it makes you feel." Inside me, there is only me. That's all I can possibly be. And nobody really wants to see… Well, that's not true. "I knew your personality before you knew my name." Is it possible for someone to see so deep into me without me even revealing anything? Or do I unconsciously reveal myself for only those who know how to see? What are the foundations of your life? I sit under that same tree beneath which I first had this reflection a year ago today. It was one of the first days of spring, and my leg was in a cast. I sat on my jacket because the fresh grass was damp with April rain. As my new friends pretended to battle with my crutches, I leaned against the strong Oak and smiled. At that moment, I was happy. But no, I thought. I'm not really happy. I'm depressed. I tried to ignore myself, tried to focus on the sweet-smelling drops of water falling from the new-born green leaves above. This was a happy day. A happy place. But I couldn't be happy. I pulled my dark cloud over me again, like a baby refusing to leave her security blanket for a walk on the beach. Now I sit in the same spot. My leg is healed. The grass is smooth and dry. But my tears have replaced the dewdrops. I know there is nothing to cry about, but I can't bring myself to send the cloud away. Because, without my security blanket, I don't know what to do with myself. (ctd) |
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7 Member
since 2000-04-26
Posts 113Amherst, MA, USA |
Damn, too long... here's the rest... *********************************** To what extent do you fear perfection? "If you had to be either a slave or a slave owner, which would you choose?" "Slave," she answered, without hesitation. "I'd rather be a good person, even if I had to suffer." That answer was indisputable for her. So why can't she understand why I hurt myself? It's the same principle: I want to be perfect, I want to be my idea of a good person. A perfect person can never hurt anyone. So I take the suffering - that's the noble thing, right? I'm not saying it's a good thing, but there is logic in it. I may not be perfect, but I'm not crazy either. How much do you deserve? "Write it. Write 'I deserve love.' If you repeat it enough, you'll believe it." I complied, but didn't put my heart in it. It's not writing if it's not my own words. "This is bull****. If I wrote 'I love Hitler' a million times I wouldn't believe it. This is no different." My roommate laughed, hoping to be thrown out of group therapy again. "I love Hitler. I don't have to write it to believe it." The nurse shot her a look, but didn't reply. They'd all learned to ignore her, refusing to give her the one thing that might make her better - attention. But it wasn't like that for me. I got all the love I wanted. But I knew I didn't deserve it. "That's different. It's a blatant lie." "So is your stupid sentence," I said, dropping my pencil and heading down the hall. What will you allow? I like the way disorder adds character to any room. How can you be comfortable in a place where everything has to be perfect and neat? It's best to learn to tolerate imperfection, because chances are you'll lead a much more comfortable life. What do you live for? I tried the affirmation exercise I'd learned at the hospital. "I don't want to die. I don't want to die." It was still a lie. So I wrote the truth. I wrote what I knew, what I loved. "Things to live for: Dad's stories… Mom's corny jokes… sgalfs… poetry… chocolate… laughing until it hurts… sleeping late… dreams…" I almost cried thinking of life without these things… plus anything else I hadn't listed… that's how it would be not to live. What is sacred? Water. Just water. Purified and distilled, certainly, but nothing holy about it. If I put this water on my hands in church, would it have the same effect? Any effect at all? Maybe what makes something sacred is what you invest in it. What you feel towards it. When I want to die, nothing is sacred. When I am smiling under a tree, the rain is sacred, my friends are sacred, the grass is sacred. Hell, I don't even know what sacred means. That's how unreligious I am. But I know what meaning is. I know what symbolism is. And believe me, I know what emotion is. How close can we come? I wish I knew. |
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Dawn Eclipse Senior Member
since 2000-01-31
Posts 637The Horsehead Nebula |
That was a good piece! There are many questions in there that take a lot of thought to answer... you did well.  "Even a fool knows you can't touch the stars, but it doesn't stop a wise man from trying." Harry Anderson, "Night Court" *Cassandra Roseen* |
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netswan Senior Member
since 2000-03-28
Posts 1369Washington |
7 - I am willing to let go of all things that do not make sense and throw them over my shoulder and spend time keeping the things in life that I love. I love writing -- this piece had me pondering on the pangs of growing up and all the questions each of has asked. Maybe not the same, but with the same idea of asking. This was interesting to read - a pondering of sorts? It kept me reading. netswan |
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Christopher
Moderator
Member Rara Avis
since 1999-08-02
Posts 8296Purgatorial Incarceration |
... See that ellipses up there? That's what I open with in a reply when I just find myself at a loss. This brought me there. How does one respond to this? Well done? Sounds trite right about now, coming from my lips, it wouldn't come close to conveying the feelings this engendered in me. I echo many of the emotions in this and many of the statements. Disorder and all. Yes, giving is selfish, but that doesn't make it wrong I suppose. Hard to delineate the difference sometimes I think. A thought provoking painful glance into the interior of a troubled mind. But remember this, everyone has troubles. The reason their troubles don't seem as bad as ours, is because they are their troubles. Peace and well done. |
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WolfsMate Member
since 2000-01-14
Posts 121New York |
A thought provoking piece. You ask some hard questions here. "You never have to worry...Never fear for I am near" |
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7 Member
since 2000-04-26
Posts 113Amherst, MA, USA |
Thank you for your replies! It's nice to see responses to that piece because there's hardly anyone I can show it to in "the real world." One other thing that occurred to me: I didn't think up the questions; I got this idea from a poem in the literary magazine from College of the Atlantic (www.coa.edu, check out their student work, it's fabulous) where a girl named Mindi (the only name she gave) answered these questions in a different way, but similar to mine at the same time. I'm not sure if that's plagiarism or what, but all but the questions are my original work. If anyone else wants to (or has) try anything like this (with these questions or others), I'd love to see it! 7 |
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Dusk Treader
Moderator
Senior Member
since 1999-06-18
Posts 1187St. Paul, MN |
*At a loss for words* ... 7 That was amazing... Reading this was like seeing myself and my feelings put to print so precisely that I could feel everything, because I know each emotion personally. Incredibly written.. but that's not expressive enough to convey to you how I felt... Masterful, superb and more... |
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