Reading harold_maude's journal

In all of life we come face to face with different things that do something to how we view things.
It's part of life.
It is the way of things.

We become part of a landscape that our reaction to the events of our lives creates for us to walk about in.

When I thought about what to write to show up at the end of each of my posts, I thought about how my life is fragmented, and how when people meet me they only see parts.
Most of the time, people are in my life for only a short while,
taking what they need, but not wanting to stay long enough to find out what more there is.

That is the way of my life.

Rejection feels like rocks sometimes, and so do ugly words or setaments. So does having people look at you and put you into a box because of the clothes you wear, your body size, or even if you do things that seem unoridnary.

People are funny critters after all.

They make so many snap decisions that in the end prove out to be something of red herring when it comes to "knowing" other people.

One of the lovely things about having only your words to let people see who you are is that all the normal distractions are removed so that they are forced, if you will, into seeing something more.

I am the mirror cracked,
glass upon the floor
looking up at you
needing help
but not knowing how to ask
I stand naked and bare
wanting you
to do more
than see me as broken
a life worth nothing
because I'm in peices
so I watch
and wait
and hope...

In this time in history there are so many things that happen every day to people like you and me that cause so much damage, and have the potential to turn us into ugly cincial rock throwers...but we have a choice.

To keep our heart intact, and try to see the heart of the person were standing next to or the person we see on the street dressed in rags, or even the drunk who lives in and out of dumpsters.
There is a real person in there, with a life we know nothing about.

You look at me
make decisions
put me in a box
when you have the choice
to let me out
and all the while
my soul
is screaming
screaming
as the rocks come flying
I fit your need
to have someone
as a guilty party
so that you can feel better
about the things
your ashamed of...

I live on the outside of most of the circles that people move in.
I tend to move in and out of thoes circles, going unnoticed, until someone finds me with a great need in their lives, and then they zero in on me like a homing beacon, and there I am,
this person with something they need. To them, I am nothing more.
I give what I have so that they can go on in their lives.
That is the way of my life.
In ordniary circumstances, if everything was fine in their lives they would dismiss me as another "freak" who was consistant with all their feelings about who and what freaks are, and they would throw rocks.
They have. And I've ended up bleeding inside because of thoes rocks.
I have scars inside from their judgements. I was never worth more than what they could take or needed to take from me.
That is the way of my life.

I am so lovely
in the mirror cracked.
All naked and bare
bleeding on the inside
tired
so lovely are the peices
as they reflect the sky
but they are broken
and the only response
you know
because you don't want to know
who I am
is to pick up another rock
and take aim...

It only looks that way because your standing on your head.