Some of my writing...
A Favorite Childhood Memory
When I was young, days seemed to last for an eternity. Often times I was by myself. I liked the tranquility of the seclusion. When Labor Day would come, my parents would pack up the truck and we would go to a cabin up near Lake Thomahawk. The cabin was actually a garage built to store my uncle’s boat through out the winter months. There were three double cots in the cabin with a stove, sink, and refrigerator. They also had a gas heater to keep it warm on cold nights. The parents always stayed inside with the younger kids. I always had to sleep in the tent outside with my older sister and two older cousins. I didn’t have anyone there that was around my age, so I often spent my time alone. After a long 3 hr drive, I would jump out of the truck and race down to the riverbank. It would still be there, the little wood dock my uncle had built. All the trees were in the same spots they were when I left. I would check to see if I could still find all the large rocks that would stick out of the surface of the water. Sometimes the river ran low, and the rocks would stand out more. The sun would be glistening off the ripples and waves created by the current of the river. The water from the ..Wisconsin River.. was always mucky and brown. I could hear the insects buzzing and birds chirping. Butterflies would flutter around the wild daisies and violets. I would sit there for at least an hour or two. Basking in the warmth of the sun and smelling the sweet sent of the fresh wooded air. The sun sat low in the sky, about to set. If I was quiet enough I could hear the sounds of cars going over the old wood bridge a mile down the river. Crickets would begin to chirp and the mosquitoes would come out. On a lucky evening, I could see fireflies flickering about the bush lines on either sides of the property. I can remember how peaceful it seemed. The steady rush of water flowing down stream lulled my body to a state of calmness. The winds would whisper through the leaves of the trees, almost as if they were talking to each other. Experiencing this made me realize the depth of the beauty that lies in the heart of the countryside. I cherish the memories of those days and I look forward to creating new memories like the ones of my past.
I struggle as I try to manage afflication as a consequence to my nonsensical and careless thoughts, words, and actions. I want to be responsible and own up to the things I have said or done wrong; I want to apologize, in an effort to right the wrongs I have done. But how do you do that when your words have lost any and all value. No matter what I say to mend the feelings and friendships of those I have hurt, my words fall on deaf ears proving to be worthless to those I care most about. Not only are the people around me affected by the things I have said and done, but the corollary on myself is unfathomable. If I was incapable of caring or simiply played on the amusement of being ignorant, the measurement of penalty would not be so great (with regard to myself). However, this is not the case. Rather, I find myself acutely aware and extremely sensitive to that of my actions. My heart is saddened and heavy, and I begin to wonder if I am able to withstand the weight of my self-inflicted burden. If only there was something I could say; something I could do to make things right again. I am, however, truly sorry. On one hand, and with no expectations I persevere hoping only for the best outcomes; One that is favorable to all. On the other hand, I reluctantly and knowingly accept the final cost and totality of destruction as a result of my decisions.
It's Quiet Again
When they fight I hide in my room, way back in the corner of my closet under as many clothes as I can find. If I can muffle the shouts and screams, it’s a little less scary. My walls and floor sometimes can tell the story of what is happening in the other room. If I remember, I will turn off the lights and sit in the dark trying to think of a better place to be. Sometimes I imagine I am invisible, hoping that I will be left out of the bad things that go on at night. When he leaves, it gets real quiet. My mother’s cries echoing through my head. That’s all I can hear. I am too afraid to move, frozen stiff from fear of getting caught. He could be hiding, waiting for me to come out. What if he catches me? If he can make my mom red, black and blue…surely he will make a mess of me. Sometimes he comes into my room. Stinking like booze and cigarettes. Staggering to my door, he often stumbles over the corner of my bed or the chair next to my dresser. My heart races as he moves closer to my hiding spot. I squeeze my eyes shut tightly, and I pray out loud thinking, If I pray just a little bit louder, maybe this time God will hear me. Through the piles of clothes that cover me, I see light from the room. He grabs me by the neck and with a flick of his wrist I am flung across the room, my head bouncing off the floor like my favorite rubber-bouncing ball. All the while he is cursing with slurred speech.My face gets hot when the stings start from his hands batting me back and forth. What did I do wrong, I ask myself, tears streaking down my face. I think to myself, if I can get really small, maybe he won’t see me, and I won’t be hurt anymore. His kicks leave me feeling broken and breathless, my stomach with sharp piercing pains from his steel-toed work boots. He picks me up like a rag doll and throws me into the walls. My legs are too weak to hold myself up. When I am not able to get back up on my own, he finally leaves. Still cursing, he walks out of the house with keys in his hands. The loud rumbling of his car when it starts rattles the pictures on the walls. He tears out of the driveway with his tires squealing. It’s over.It’s finally over. I sigh with relief just knowing I am still breathing, no more hurts. It’s quiet again, but only because he is gone.....
When the clouds of confusion set in, I start to question my own judgment. For months now, I have not been able to decipher my own feelings. Suffering the highs and lows, I am forced to trudge through the peaks and valleys of my own field of emotions. Some days are foggier than others. As the density grows thicker, I feel as though my heart is torn in two. I feel so helpless. Wandering aimlessly through these meadows with uncertainty. Walls of emotions strike, causing me to lose my footing. I stumble out of control into a gorge of despair. My heart jars at contact with the Earth’s rugged floor. I can’t fight back the tears. Raw and intense thoughts flood my heart and body with such force I find myself drowning in sorrow. I can’t breath. My lungs are filled with pain. I can’t possibly ignore something that evokes so much passion from my heart. …And I am caught up in this whirlwind as I begin to wonder if I will ever find peace with myself again. With each passing day, I pray to the Lord, seeking only his wisdom, clarity and strength. Although my life is in his hands I find myself struggling as though I am battling this on my own. Trying to control the outcome of my life, yet unable to do so. I worry I may fail to do what is right when I am swayed so strongly by my heart to take an alternate path that only leads to a dead end. My heart grows weary, my conscience exhausted. What will it take for me to finally stand fast against the face of the fierce, howling winds?
Sometimes I feel as though I have no true friends. Sometimes I feel betrayed by my own feelings. Sometimes when I feel so alone, I think if I fell off the face of the earth, no one would even notice. Going unnoticed is one of life’s worst feelings. Everyone wants to be involved and loved. What happens when coincidently all your friends and family seem to vacate, leaving you feeling alone for what seems to be too long? When you don’t know what to do with yourself and have no motivation? What then? I feel so vulnerable. Easily swayed in the wrong direction. The stronger I try to be, the weaker it seems I am. Giving in to my childish desires, temptation consumes me, leaving a self-centered, irrational being behind. My actions are at the verge of being annoying. I am alienating myself from others. My desperate cries for companionship are drowned out by my belligerent ways, pushing everyone I care about further and further away. I’ll be sitting by myself sulking in sorrow when I realize, I am the creator of my own depression. How do I find the strength with in myself to right all the wrongs I am responsible for? For so long I have lashed out at those around me, or suffocated them with my own problems. Is it too late to repair the fragmented relationships I may have left behind? If I don’t change, all that I have to look forward to is what’s left of my past. Consumed by my own Demon’s, I can’t seem to find my way. What happens in the days of tomorrow will show my true strength and weakness. Until then, I am lost and weathered.