I’ve often thought that I’ve just wanted people to feel sorry for me. I don’t believe that anymore – I just want to know that someone cares, and that someone is willing and wanting to be there for me. Someone outside of myself. Someone who has no dog in the fight. They’re only there because they love me.
I feel as if there’s a cavity in me. Things look bad on the surface, but if you understood what was beneath, it’s much worse. I feel as if I have nothing to offer the world – just myself. I sit lost in thought often. Wanting someone to come to me and do what? – I don’t know. Talk? Just sit with me? Place a hand on my hand? Tell me they care? I just don’t know. Part of me fears that if all of these things happened, things would be better, but only for a fleeting moment. Part of me fears that I wouldn’t feel anything at all. Part of me fears … perhaps therein lies the problem. What am I really looking for? Would I know if I saw it? Would I ignore it and walk on by – too busy looking for what was already there.
Why do I fear?
Why do I fear?
Why do I cry?
Why do I feel alone even when surrounded by friends?
Why do I feel fully engaged in life, but that it’s veering off course? – shortchanged.
Who am I?
Who do I want to be?
How do I relax into the blessings in my life?
I sit at a large pond alone, but by my own choosing. I’ve come to reflect and to find inspiration; to articulate my dreams and desires; to consider and plot my course. All I can see and feel is this hole in me. It eclipses my thoughts – it blocks the sunlight from illuminating my mind. The world has made me this way. Nobody in the world wants to be as they are, but they’ve made themselves as they are.
I often feel as if I can’t hear God. Not because He’s not speaking, and not because I don’t believe He’ll speak to me, but because I’m just too tired to seek. It’s overwhelming. I look for an answer and don’t feel as if I find one. I turn around to face an angel, and see empty earth. God is there, the angel is there, many people are there – it’s just that I can’t feel them. I’m flailing – I’m a fish out of water. A bird with clipped wings. This is how I feel.
It’s nice to receive affirmation through a touch, a hug, or an “I love you”. But afterward, the sound of the words die out; the sensation of the touch wears away, replaced by the sensation of cold things; the spirits that embraced as the bodies did lingers for a while, but then returns to their respective owners. What is left?
As I write this, why do I hold the paper tight as if cruel hands are going to rip it from me – like the wind will blow it away and into the hands of a world that doesn’t care.
I feel as if there’s a cavity in me. Things look bad on the surface, but if you understood what was beneath, it’s much worse. I feel as if I have nothing to offer the world – just myself. I sit lost in thought often. Wanting someone to come to me and do what? – I don’t know. Talk? Just sit with me? Place a hand on my hand? Tell me they care? I just don’t know. Part of me fears that if all of these things happened, things would be better, but only for a fleeting moment. Part of me fears that I wouldn’t feel anything at all. Part of me fears … perhaps therein lies the problem. What am I really looking for? Would I know if I saw it? Would I ignore it and walk on by – too busy looking for what was already there.
Why do I fear?
Why do I fear?
Why do I cry?
Why do I feel alone even when surrounded by friends?
Why do I feel fully engaged in life, but that it’s veering off course? – shortchanged.
Who am I?
Who do I want to be?
How do I relax into the blessings in my life?
I sit at a large pond alone, but by my own choosing. I’ve come to reflect and to find inspiration; to articulate my dreams and desires; to consider and plot my course. All I can see and feel is this hole in me. It eclipses my thoughts – it blocks the sunlight from illuminating my mind. The world has made me this way. Nobody in the world wants to be as they are, but they’ve made themselves as they are.
I often feel as if I can’t hear God. Not because He’s not speaking, and not because I don’t believe He’ll speak to me, but because I’m just too tired to seek. It’s overwhelming. I look for an answer and don’t feel as if I find one. I turn around to face an angel, and see empty earth. God is there, the angel is there, many people are there – it’s just that I can’t feel them. I’m flailing – I’m a fish out of water. A bird with clipped wings. This is how I feel.
It’s nice to receive affirmation through a touch, a hug, or an “I love you”. But afterward, the sound of the words die out; the sensation of the touch wears away, replaced by the sensation of cold things; the spirits that embraced as the bodies did lingers for a while, but then returns to their respective owners. What is left?
As I write this, why do I hold the paper tight as if cruel hands are going to rip it from me – like the wind will blow it away and into the hands of a world that doesn’t care.
