Unrequitted

Why do I always have to feel this way? 

Isn’t it enough that I’m alive to live another day? 

In the grand scheme of things isn’t that what everyone wants? To live? 

Sometimes the smile is real, but so often it’s fake or forced. 

Why can’t I just be fixed and not broken? 

I know there are others who have it worse than I do, I’m so selfish and pitiful. 

I don’t want to be this way. 

I really try to do better, then my true self shines through and destroys any hope I had built up for getting better. 

I wonder what it will take to heal like I need to. 

Death? The ultimate cure. 

What’s wrong with me?

What Washing Won’t Wipe-Away

There are three types of soap in Alyssa’s bathroom.  A bar soap that smelled like roses, a liquid body soap that was a cucumber-melon mix, and another that is an avocado oil and a flower fragrance.  The bar soap is first.  She applies it diligently to the green bath rag she chose to bathe with.  She scrubs until her skin burns under the hot bath water.  It’s not enough.

She grabs the cucumber melon body wash and the yellow luffa that belongs to her.  It’s lined up next to a red one.  Guilt engulfs her again.  She puts an overgenerous amount on the sponge and lathers it over her entire body.  The heat from the shower has made an almost impenetrable fog that engulfs her in the small area.  The smell of fruit and flowers permeate every inch of the room that she has chosen to punish herself in.  She rubs and rubs, but it won’t wash off the feeling she has deep inside her.  The smell of him keeps rising off her skin.  She falls to her knees and begins to sob.

What is wrong with me?  She didn’t understand it.  She wasn’t lacking love or affection.  She was made to feel sexy, overwhelmingly at times.  Why did she have this self-destructing habit?  Her life wasn’t missing anything, yet she was set to ruin it.  Closing her eyes was a bad idea.  She had a flash of his silky dark hands roaming over her body.  She could feel a stirring deep inside of her core.  She loved the feel of him touching her.  The contrast of his dark skin on her light skin sent a thrill down her spine.

I’m sick in the head.  It’s the only thing that makes sense.  She grabbed the avocado soap next then there’s a knock at the door.

“Honey, are you okay?” Ben.  He was back with the kids.  Her blood rushed through her veins and she felt like she would vomit.  He deserved better than this. He was a good man.  He always tried to help out around the house, even though he worked a solid 12 hour day.  She couldn’t even blame it on her attraction to him; that side of their relationship never wavered.  He was a model citizen, friend, co-worker, husband and father.

“Si, mi Amor.  Yes, I’m fine honey.  I’m finishing my shower now.  Did you all have fun at the movies?”  It was small talk, but anything else would have been suspicious.  He gave a deep laugh.

“Well, it was a chick flick and the girls are elated and in love with the main actor, but I guess I managed out alright.  Another successful father-daughters night out.”  She smiled to herself.  Then, recalling why she was in the shower, bit her lower lip.  My husband.  A great man who deserves more than the trash that I am and no amount of washing will remove what I am or what I’ve done.

A Heart Felt Cry

Today’s post is not a poem or word of encouragement so if you want to delete the email or ignore the post… feel free.

I have been told since I was a young child, “Stefani, you can’t save the world.”  I have always tried to help others.  If I heard of people in need, I wanted to help.  If I heard about someone killing another (or themselves), I felt like I (even though they may have been in another country) could have made a difference.  I speak Spanish and had an in-law (not far from me) who was pregnant.  She was having complications and since her relationship with me wasn’t close, she didn’t call me.  The hospital sent her home and the baby died.  If I could have been there I would have argued with the hospital, but I wasn’t.  “Stefani, you can’t save the world.”

A local teen who was a classmate of my son’s friend, killed himself last night.  Said he was going for a walk…  My son’s friend and I were talking about him LAST NIGHT and how he was missing school and stopped caring, etc.  He was CRYING-OUT for help and NO ONE was listening!  “Stefani, you can’t save the world.”

WE WERE TALKING ABOUT HIM WHILE HE WAS ENDING HIS LIFE!!!  “Stefani, you can’t save the world.”  

I asked my sister “Why are we losing our youth?”  She said WE aren’t losing OURS, THEIR parents are.  “They are quitting and giving up on their kids acting out or wanting to be left alone.  This is the result.”  I thought again, “Stefani, you can’t save the world.”  But, I was JUST TALKING ABOUT HIM!  If I had thought, maybe we could go to see him and talk to him. Maybe we could have stopped him in time… But, NO life is too overwhelming and we didn’t have TIME.   Well, now we have TIME, but HE doesn’t.  And the kicker…I repeat…

WE WERE TALKING ABOUT HIM WHILE HE WAS ENDING HIS LIFE!!! 

Doesn’t the school have a counselor.  Don’t they know the signs of pre-suicidal teens.  Why didn’t they SEE him?  Do SOMETHING?  DID they try?  How is their conscious today?

Since the world began to only care about “MY FOUR AND NO MORE” we have lost our sense of community.  The village CAN’T raise the child because we are no longer a village.  We are just a bunch of beings walking around only occupying our own space, numb and dumb to any world, but ours.  So afraid of being sued or hurt if we out our nose in someone else’s business.

Stefani, you can’t save the world, it’s not your responsibility.

If everyone says, NOT I, then WHO WILL?

This is my heart felt cry!

4 Rooms

My house has 4 rooms
4 doors that never close

They are filled with:

Wisdom
Achievement
Loyalty &
Love

Then the WALLs began to crumble
The years began to pass

The doors once open
Filled with life
Emptied as each chose a different path

Door 1 closed;
Off to college with hopes for bigger things

Door 2 closed;
Off to play sports, I can reach my dreams

Door 3 closed;
Off with friends, phones and clothes
And “You know what I means”

I sit at home
In the 4th room
Alone
Longing for their return

I hope their doors will open soon
Before mine is closed for good

There are 4 rooms in the house
On a sign that says for sale

It once was full of life they say
Who’s the owner?
No one can tell

An empty house is no one’s home
The 4th door has closed at last

The 4 great winds
They closed that door
My 4 rooms are now my past.

Without Words

In a world without words, full of windows and walls
Could we get through the fight, through the fuss, without falls?
Is it even worth all the time it would take?
To find out who’s REAL, push through all the fake.

In a world that’s full of itself and no more,
The rich are now idols, no one cares for the poor.
Can I feel your pain, can you feel mine?
I sorry you’re hurt; I just don’t have the time.

Don’t just look at ‘my four and no more’,
People really need a knock at their door.
They don’t always want your money CHILL OUT!
That isn’t what true friendship is really about!

Please, just take the time to smile, it’s not hard.
What would you do if you were dealt that card?
Open your heart, love them, lend a hand!
It could have been you, don’t you understand?

Holes

The fantastic part about being in a hole is being able to look around and see all the dirt it took to get there.

In the end, the choice is yours.

Bury yourself in it or sift through it.

When you sift a little, put it under your feet.

Stomp a little and the once shifting, unstable sand becomes your new, strong foundation.

You will know if you have sifted it well.

If you can’t get it under your feet, you can never use it as your foundation to free yourself.

Look up and all around you.

Ask yourself this:

Do you really want to stay in here?

Blank

You know that feeling you get when you are staring at the computer or paper trying to think.  The BLANK feeling, or stare as some would call it.  The one where you get lost in another world where you are really not doing anything.

You are focused on nothing and lost in everything.  You journey to a place of peace even though the chaos is all around you.  Your thoughts and mind go to break mode and it takes a minute to come back.  Sometimes you can even talk while in your trance, but you cannot break the stare.

What is it that makes us go THERE?  Why does our mind have to force us to take a break because we won’t give ourselves one?  Would these still occur if we took better care to relieve our minds of the day to day stress it suffers through?

My two cents.