Wednesday, October 26, 2016. 21:30 hrs.
In the midst of midterms, and homework, and Billy Bob Jones.
I dreamt of you in a place
Where there was once only us,
But instead of me,
There was another you’d convinced yourself
to love even more,
And somewhere inside, where the pain should have been,
Was only the empty fear of another nightmare.
5.27.2015 17:30 hrs
I don’t want to be a salve:
A thing you use, and put back up
upon a shelf.
I want to be food.
A thing that courses through you,
Day and night:
Growing, changing, fixing.
Is that so wrong?
I think it’d hurt more to be just another bit of waste
In the end.
When the walls of indifference slip away for a moment,
There is terror in my soul,
A fear so poignant, and suffocating it staggers me;
Making the darkness of my sins’ meanings,
Pale virginally against the riptide of the fear,
The terror that corrodes my thought and gesture.
And under the weight of it all, I am so naked,
Unable to avoid the image of you;
You not wanting me;
Closing doors upon me;
The doors of your heart,
Windows of your eyes.
And it is under this spear of petrification
that my body freezes,
Skin and bones shattering
as teeth chatter painfully in silence;
The silence of your words,
And the deafness of your eyes;
Even as your ears are blind to my love,
and to my sorrow.
Kadeen Nichelle Oksana Waldron
Sunday, November 10, 2013. Aunty Kean’s birthday 20.44hrs
Since I’ve been feeling emotionally unstable these last few weeks (maybe I’m bipolar), I’ll just take this moment to bore you with a post.
I remember a picture. I don’t know why this crossed my mind today. I’m sitting on my father’s bed. I’m not looking at the camera happily. I can’t remember the time of day, maybe it was late afternoon, early evening, I’d have to see the picture to be certain. In the picture, you can see my scrawny little three or five year old legs, sticking out from the confines of my panties and pampers. The dress I’m wearing is an old favourite, striped with approximately three coulours. Faded rose pink, dirty yellow, and discoloured white. The thing is I can’t be sure if I’m even remembering the right picture, because what hits me is not the photo, but the feeling coming out of it. I look so lost, ragged and desolate.
The dress I remember from the picture, is a bit significant to me. That was the dress I was wearing when I told my uncle no. Remembering that moment leaves my head a bit muddled. It confuses me, because if I could have said no then, why didn’t I do so the other two times? I can’t even sort through the emotions from that olden time because I’ve spent so much time telling myself how I should feel, how I do feel, and how I am, that the actual feeling is lost. Or maybe in truth, I’m just too afraid to confront what I felt.
My mind has become such a cacophony of emotions. They literally make me feel light-headed and disoriented. I stand still for a moment, an emotion crosses my mind, and I feel confused. Emotionally writing never works for me, unless its poetry. There’s something about the rhythm of a poem that keeps me grounded. It makes me feel, but not feel overwhelmingly.
Well, that was a fun experiment. Tackling a bit of memory. I’ve got to go search for the picture. In the meantime, I’m going to go back to the distracting things I love to do. I can be so unfocused sometimes. Even my writing is travelling in weird disjointed tracks. So on a lighter note, I’m going to let my geek side out tonight. My cousins and I will be blasting enemies in Call of Duty:MW3 and shooting hoops from the comfort of the reclining sofa. Have a great day if you’re dropping in!!
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