Somewhere along the line, I lost myself. I lost the music, the art, the words – oh, the words! I never would have thought. Me. No imagination. No creativity. No inspiration.
There must be something terribly wrong. This is just not the way I am. This is just not me.
My life has changed – I have changed. What’s more, it’s not for the better. Life, age, responsibility, money – the fighting, the loving, the fighting. Oh, the fighting.
The hatred, the words, the hate – where does it come from? What have I become? Moreover, what has become of me? With all I have been, where have I gone?
Who am I?
I am in need.
Perhaps I have spoken about this topic before – I can’t recall – but I will again. And you can’t stop me. I mean, I suppose you could just click past my post, but then that wouldn’t be very nice now would it, hm?
When I was a child, I always thought I was most beautiful when I cried. I mean, yes, there is nothing like a child’s smile (I can see that now), but there is also something so beautifully compelling about a melancholic femme who so obviously bares the weight of many sorrows. At least to me, that is the sort of person whom I would like to get to know more about, to understand, and to analyze.
There’s nothing intriguing
about a cheerleader;
Now, I’m not insinuating that I had a bad childhood – actually, quite the contrary. The life that I was privy to was marvelous – don’t get me wrong. But inside of me there was always something wrong. I was always different. At a much younger age than my peers I thought about love, about mysterious adventure, about many things that a youngster should not comprehend.
I cannot recall
ever being innocent;
There are those people that say, “No one has ever broken up with me.” You know the ones: Girls that are just that hot; boys that are just that wealthy. Then there are those unfortunately beautiful, tortured souls that have always been the ones left in the wake of relationship after relationship – the ones that are just so good and are incapable of hurting anyone.
Then there are the rest of us. Those of us whom have been both the heartbreaker as well as had our hearts broken. It’s normal throughout our lifetimes to hold onto people we’d be better off without as well as to lose those whom we should have clung onto.
I left my first boyfriend the day after I gave him my virginity. My second boyfriend left me because he wasn’t ready to give his to me. The first “love of my life” wasn’t able to give me anything because
our decades-wide age gap made it a felony …
Today I woke up and wanted to be a lawyer. Okay, so, no, I don’t really want to be a lawyer. It’s something I’ve considered all my life, something I’ve been told I’d be good at for as long as I can remember – it probably has something to do with my penchant to argue things into the ground. My earliest recollection is from lower-school defending a classmate’s liberty to wear a school-monikered sweatshirt during gym class when the PE teacher was trying to force her to take it back. The teacher got snarky with me, and I will always remember her words:
Take it up with me
when you’re in Georgetown law —