At the ledge of reason, the edge of holding onto ‘the grudge.’
Of course, I am off course.
With every step a labored, misty, breath.
In the corners of never-land, I hear other survivors.
The grudge is not alone.
Each one speaking…
I do not know much but where misery goes,,,
the Grudge will also be.
The morning sun bears no walls.
Its violet rays showing no loyalty to rhyme or reason.
I could only hope to be so bold…
not caring one way or another how the seasons unfold.
To glow or not with nothing to lose.
She had been old. She was on the threshold of dying. And, still vanity had the best of him…her companion. One leg lame, yet, her loyalty has never waned.
Together with their his and her gait…a menacing, comical stride. The couple could be spotted for miles and miles and miles.
Her human bristles upon the touch of even the most…common hand. A permanent scowl below his white on gray mustache. But on a good day. When no one is looking. His senior companion can lean slightly in for support and a pat. And…a faint curl of pride hidden behind the frowning whiskers magically appears.
The old man’s friend knows it is time that she go. She has prepared for years. Ready and able to cross that bridge. At this part in the road…she will go. She has taught the old man…as much as, he’ll ever know.
The old grizzled gal, from a pup to adulthood, has always had Moxie…Hence the name. Once wild and woolly. Her coat is now coarse. Her sight, a bit less.
With foggy eyes. She glances to her companion and thinks,
‘Time to teach this old guy…a new trick.’
Lessons have never been easy to impart. The old man has always worn his surliness like a faded flannel vest; up close and tight fitting.
Vanity has it’s place. Moxie has owned it like the kindled kindness upon her face. Jowls tucked up and in…Moxie wears loyalty with a grin.
Today will be the day. Her last lesson?
Showing the old man that letting her go…Does not mean they will never see each other again.
As a writer, poet, photographer…wanderer of life. There are no ‘pretty’ words to truly express how the journey has brought me here. Here…many years later. Here after fighting so hard on the inside. Here, after fighting so ardently, on the outside. Here…here…here.
I have offered up a wonderful young writer before, Teresa Baxley. Her depth and compassion, I beg to say, remind me of….myself.
Life or turmoil. Life of struggle. Life of inner and outer demons. Yet, young, gay and proud.
What a struggle it is for all of us?
How simple the notion?
Be kind! We never, ever, ever, know, what someone has just gone through. What they are currently going through. What is still on their plate for the day!
A simple kind word. A simple kind gesture is far more precious than anything money can buy.
Therefore, without further adieu. I present a day in the life of a young, out and strong teenage girl. Struggling, moving on…speaking from the heart.
No matter where she went nothing felt right. She had been to four different schools and she was always the outcast. It didn’t matter what she would do to fit in, nothing ever worked. She would wear the clothes that everyone else was wearing. She would make her hair look all fancy. She would put a ton of make up on, but no matter what, nobody payed any attention to her. Well, that was until she began to make herself look skinny by making herself vomit. She stopped eating, and she would always make herself vomit until she had nothing left to throw up. Despite how unhealthy her actions were, all of the boys at school started to pay attention at her. All of the girls at school admired how slim she had gotten. Her parents finally told her they were proud of her. Until one day she was found dead on the bathroom floor, and that was when everyone started to truly pay attention to her. That’s when people started to truly understand what she was going through. Her struggles, her pain, they finally started to notice her cries for help, her constant fear of being forgotten. Isn’t it unfortunate how taking one’s life makes everyone open their eyes and see beyond the surface?
I don’t know how to explain the feelings I feel inside. One minute, I can be the happiest person ever, then the next i just want to stop breathing altogether. Waking up in the morning is one of the hardest tasks for me to do. It used to be the highlight of my day. I used to be such a morning bird, but now all I ever want to do is sleep. I don’t want to wake up anymore. I just want to sleep for the rest of my life, and not have to face reality anymore. I don’t even remember my childhood. It’s like it never even happened. I think I finally understand the term “time flies by when your having fun”, because I don’t remember the happy times like i remember the bad times. I always thought the good times would make all the bad times worth it, but its like all the bad times overrule the good times. It doesn’t matter how much effort I put into enjoying life, because I never will. So what’s the point?