My Life is All Deja Vu

I go through routines of class then here..."home". I go through routines of talking to the same people and thinking about the same things. It's true, my life is all Deja Vu, but as my life went on, I rediscovered the people who made me WANT my life to be routine. I've partied a bit here and there on accident (yes, on accident) But it wasn't what I was doing or where I was at that made the time so amazing. It was who I was with. I'm feeling happy again. But then after they leave and I return to my cage of reality, and wait till the next weekend arrives. He knows I'm ignoring him and that things between us have faded, he asks me to reassure him, but I cannot. Within my bland answer of "uh huh" and blank expression, it should be clear to him. It's all clear to me. He can't comfort these tears any longer, so I hold them in. He can't answer my questions anymore, so I don't ask. And lastly, I waste my breath repeating statements he can't understand, so I hold my breath and hold them in until he sees all that I've wanted him to see. When that will be, I don't know. But I'll wait. No other guy has had the same mind as me nor the answers I've wanted and the water of dating isn't something I'm in the mood to test after years of testing. So I'll wait until I can be comfortable. I'll wait until I can hold on permanently with confidence.

Life Hits You Like a Brick

So here comes the break up disguised in the name "break" and he isn't aware he's softened the blow by giving it his own name. Along with this brings urges and sicknesses from curiosity. They ask and I answer, stirring up everything I thought I had pushed away. The dilemma of basically being homeless and not knowing wrong from right is twisting my morals all around. It's as if I'm on a leash and I don't think anyone could feel as I feel. My happiness has just kinda withered away. I want to sing this off of my chest, just let my words flow. But I only sing in isolation and silence. I don't want anyone to hear me or my voice. I don't even know what I want anymore. I feel like life is just tightening its grip around my neck and forcing me to to face what I've tried to overlook. I know I have things to do and I can't stay here forever, I don't want to stay here forever. And then what makes me hurt the most is how much I yearn for a good set of stable parents to help me and be close when I need them. To hug them, laugh with them, and to SEE them. Unlike most of these brats, I haven't had a stable hand to hold my hand as I grew. I only had phone calls, drunk idiots, and harsh childhood memories. And now that I've seen this for what it is, why the hell is it still affecting me?

It's 12:44 in the Morning.

I sit here and can type my heart into this as much as I want. It's 2011 and a new generation, but that doesn't lure eyes into anyone else's words. They could care less what happens in your life and could care even more less about what your feeling. So, I see this as a safe haven for all of my emotions. It's hardly ever read by those who know me or interact with me on a daily basis, so we'll refer to my blog as a secret cave. I have a lot of secrets and a lot of things on my mind. I am in a relationship that is expected to move far and go on "forever". Because of my past, I'm holding on to it. Because of my title, I can't let go. And because I don't want to see the pain in his eyes, I'm still clinging onto something faded, worn out, and tattered. We wobble back and forth on unsteady ground..or maybe it's too steady for our age and it causes us to sway back and forth uneasily. Unfortunately, these are the words I've spoken to him, but he doesn't heed my warning. For every smile I have, but look away, I'm doubting what we have. For every late night that I sit here, talking to other people, I'm wondering why it is we're not talking ourselves, and lastly, for every time he tells me he loves me, I question if he can keep me. My title of "heart breaker" exceeds me. I don't like the feeling of letting a love go on and feeling as if it could go somewhere, but asking in the back of your mind the chance of whether it will. I'm nine teen, not looking towards settling down, but looking for a man who can make me feel as if I will be secure. A man that is not old, but is my age, with a bold head on his shoulders. I'm with a boy who loves me with all his heart..or perhaps he loves me because I have been here the longest, I have been his best female companion for the longest, and I've let him hold onto me for the longest. Whatever the case may be, this situation devours me in all angles of the outcomes. I don't know what to do when I've said all I can say. The only thing left to speak is the words stating goodbye and I have not the heart, nor the strength to say them. I guess I will do what I've been doing and tell myself, "With time, he will grow up and he will win my heart back." But I don't think he knows that he ever lost it..especially since I'm just realizing he has.


January Dream: My best friend of ten years may have impacted my heart a bit, but no more than it has been over these past years. We loved each other before we even knew what love was. We stuck together all along because the company of having someone who has known you since you had all your innocence contained is comforting; relaxing. To know you can be yourself around this person because of a bond created through out time is something that you can never force or replace, which is what makes it so pure. I'm hoping, somewhat praying, that I can see my best friend again. To hug him again and know that he is still real, as real as he ever was when we were kids, is all I really want. It's been 5 years since I've spoken face to face with whom I once called my childhood sweetheart. I've realized that love is something that will never diminish for me. Because love is something that I once had but no longer have. Something that is miles away and you yearn to be right next to you, talking you though everything going on in your life. I'm still in love.

Lastly to sum up this input, I'm preparing myself to visit my father and mother in Saudi Arabia. I am excited to not just experience a new culture and see a new part of the world, but to see my Dad and Mom again in their setting. Me and Stephanie have gotten more acquainted which makes it easier for me to call her mom now. She does everything I ever wanted a mom to do: to ask about me, to call me endearing names like "pumpkin" or "sweetie". And I know she won't abandon me nor hurt me. She's responsible and is conservative enough to prove to me that she will never become careless or ridiculously tasteless. She's proving to me that not all hope is lost and that we go through tons in our lives before we reach what's the best. The funny thing is, I don't think she even knows this. Goodnight*

The Tests of Bio-Mom

Previously, I had a positive out look on life's tests,but now I'm not so sure. I sit in my boy friend's room listening to my mellow play list with a damp wash cloth on my head. I have spent the past school year living with my biological mother in her house. After her and my step father had separated, we were left with a roof over our head and he moved out, but with him went the way to provide. She had no job and I was the only one in the house who made any type of income for the months I lived there. With time, my step father slowly quit paying payments and soon enough, we had no gas and our house was foreclosed. With her harsh words, crude and vulgar language, I was shown the old mother whom I had stayed away from in the previous years. She was the same mother who had abandoned me at friends' houses or left me with random baby sitters so she could go out and live as if she were a teenager. With three kids, you would wonder what would cause her to think that frequently doing this was acceptable. However, she behaved nonchalantly about her actions which eventually led to how she lost me and my brothers in the first place. Over the years, my childhood was a blur. All I remember as I was growing up was my disdain and confusion about the wretched woman who gave birth to me. In fact, she was so despised that when I was in trouble, the option of going to live with her was viewed as a punishment. I moved to Virginia at age 15 and in that course, she had contacted me and my curiosity about her took over. Unfortunately, curiosity killed that reassurance that I ever had about our relationship being mended. Her vulgar ways came out and by then, I wanted nothing to do with her. Again, at age 17 (approaching 18) my current mother figure and I weren't on good terms. My relationship with my bio-mom was once again renewed and I ignored all the negative hints along the way. Things started out good and I was promised a stable household with real parents. My "real" parents proved to be just as troublesome as any other past family I had had. They were bar flies, leaving and going in late hours of the night.Even after the separation, her ways never changed. we went through a room mate who was a friend of hers. she proved herself to be a promiscuous, lazy and insecure troll, so she was removed from the household. The whole situation of living with bio-mom was a mess in all honesty and all events were foretelling. Which is why it's here I sit, sick to my stomach, wondering when all these hardships will end. With a father in Saudi, a busy step mother, and a bar fly for a bio-mom, I am lost. What is hope when all your life, you go from dilemma to dilemma. With few benefits along the way to reassure my hope, I haven't completely lost my sanity. I just constantly pray and ask God why it is that there is suffering? Why did he create so much for me to battle at a young age and why do these problems haunt me? Was I cursed from the day I was born? If this is a test, is it only over when I die? It's a pessimistic view and i don't mean to behave like an emo teen, but I constantly catch myself asking "why me God?" I'm still waiting for my reply.

However, though I may not have a definite answer, I  have a way to keep my sorrows at the back of my head. My boy friend and his parents have been more than helpful beyond any means. Though his parents are not my own, they provide a stable sense of security towards me and let me sleep at night. they've opened up their home and their arms, and no matter what is done, they have no idea what their hospitality has done. they are one of the greatest benefits I've encountered along the way. I can wait forever for my reply from God, but they're the ones that make me believe that all hope is not gone.

I Was Going to be a Rockstar

It's been a sickness of mine for many years. From the simplest decisions to the most suspenseful questions, making up my mind has been the greatest struggle. It's funny how when we were younger, we could pinpoint and answer the frequently asked question "What do you want to be when you grow up?" with a positive and exact response. When we were younger, we knew what our passion was, we knew what we wanted to do, and our pure hearts weren't clouded then. Well, as a nineteen year old, I can say that I would absolutely love to be five again.At age nineteen, I've jumped from career to career, hoping to stumble across something that I was positive I could do years and years without getting bored. I wanted something that could consume my life and give me a sense of fulfillment.At five, I had decided that I was going to be a rock star and singer when I grew up. I was going to perform on stage and have fans everywhere. Although I've slightly lived that dream when I performed with our high school rock band, Return the Trust, it's not the same. Due to stress and criticism, I've lost my voice. I now listen to pounds of music that my vocal chords just ache to create. But unlike when I was five, I know that's never going to happen. It's sad when we live in a world of fun new things to do and technology to entertain us, but all I can do when I'm alone and bored is sing of what I've been feeling the past week. My voice may not be the same melodic favorite of my friends, but it helps me get all that's been weighing on my mind, out in a string of music notes. I may never be a rock star or a favorite singer, but I'd do anything to think I could be. It seems like fooling myself lately  has been an impossible thing to achieve. However, one can never hide from reality too long. Not without the constant consumption of illegal drugs at least.

Brandon

This was actually written at the beginning of my 9 month relationship with my best friend/boyfriend, Brandon Morrison. Though it's a poem, I intend for it to be a song and am still working on it currently.

Eyes of the ocean staring back at me.  The kind of smile that makes you want to see...
more-feel more- than I've ever felt before.
More. Much more, than I ever thought could be in store.

So close your eyes, put your oceans waves to rest.
Fall asleep with my head on your chest.
Synchronize my breathing with the steady beating of your heart.
This is the beginning, but even the ending is our start.

Your oceans are drowning me, your soft breathing surrounding me.
Your kisses stay so potent, rewind this moment to the start.

Identify Those Lives

Justice is what one would call corrupt. People walking the cracked and weathered sidewalks. They face simple goals that make life harder. They are zombies roaming aimlessly for food. They drag across the musical city, the depressing urban soundtrack. The mindless huddled around bins of fire to defeat, for a moment, to defeat the cool and cold feelings of the wealthy and the weather mastering the city's hell full of suffering and poverty.
                                                      
                                                    Will they not stop and give? Will they not?

Standing for the Broken

Tonight...
I'll take a stand for those broken hearts.
I'll speak those words to that broken boy.
And when steady beating hearts grow slow,
I'll find a way to let the scissors go.
And you can cut away at these heart strings
As long as you can ignore the tears your cuts bring.
I gave you the knife to cut at the ankles of my fear
And it's the only thing, I fear,that's really kept you here.
And the scissors you hold don't have a childproof lock
And my pleas won't ever make you stop.

But tonight will stand for broken hearts
And that broken boy will fall apart
And this steady beating heart will pulsate quicker
And these heart strings will grow thicker and thicker
And you can cut until your hands bleed
But I won't be the one in need.

Love at 15

He held your hand. He said "forever and always".
He went away but that feeling always stays.
Then he came back and everything lit up...
And you believed everything was okay and didn't feel so fucked up.
I'm sorry,we're sorry, that frogs look like princes
And when we're young and hearts are whole, the path seems endless.
We build up our card houses only to have them knocked down.
Then start again working towards the sky from the ground.

9/20/07

My heart is wrapped and locked in chains and I refuse to let it go.
Now these days have driven me insane and my energy is running low.
I've cried and died on inside due to you, but now I just don't know...


Is it worth?....Does it matter?...I'm letting it go.

 I should have known you would hurt me, I should have known.
But I pushed it all to the back of my mind in fear of leaving the good things behind.
I should have known. Woe is me. I should have known.

Mother

You held me as your baby, but I suppose that never meant much?

I used to call you "mommy", but then we lost touch.

Now you don't quite get me, don't get what I've become.

But I doubt you even worry after making decisions so dumb.

Six years have been given up, you passed me in your life. 

Nine years later, I sit through a phone line hearing stories of your strife. 

A tear here, a tear there, and yes I know I say "everyone makes mistakes"

But you repeat them, you can never defeat them..

  And it's all your fault that my heart frequently aches.

Personal JibberJabber

March.30.2011

 ♦And it’s official: I am no less than 10 Mondays from graduating and saying goodbye to my high school days. And to think I thought turning eighteen was a big deal? HA. This is tragic...amazing...nerve wrecking…terrifying…LIBERATING…and oh so doubtful.  I have changed my mind from graphic designer to elementary school teacher to lowering my standards to what’s going to give me money. However, money will make me happy. Money will support any future family I have. Money is truly what keeps lives running. Forget the heart. No, we’re nothing without money. We aren’t adequate with ourselves until we deck ourselves out in materialistic fashions that cloud and vaporize our TRUE images, but candy coat our bodies in order to view what we “want” to see. What our society wants to see. We are mere products of this world and we have, in every subliminal way, fallen into a pattern. Even those who wish to stand out are conforming. Conformists are conforming. And at last, the economy has broken me. I’m so worried about where I’m going to be in ten years, that I have strayed away from my child hood dream. I have been enveloped in an intelligent decision based on statistics and let my childhood dreams get thrown out with my old dolls. I have been persuaded time and time again that my dream is just a dream because it will never come true. And to be honest, I have no soul to prove anyone wrong. Now, in my senior year, I just want to be successful. At least I have a good outlook on what I want to become. In order for me to be a teacher, I need to like kids. I love kids. Maybe not high school kids, but I love kids and people. I love communicating. I absolutely love helping and being of assistance. Which leaves me with that one measly question: Why not? As of my current job status, I have finally gotten a job paying 8 dollars an hour. Personally, that is NOT bad. I’m working at McDonald Garden Center, helping customers and tending to plants and after filling out paperwork tomorrow, I start working. Am I excited? More than you know. I have an urge to work. I have an urge to dedicate assistance to those who need me. It’s sickening how much of a people person I am when the world is so full of bull-shit. In the end though, just knowing the irony in that last statement can make me love the trait even more.♦

The Worst Thing in Life is to Know All Pain and not of Hope.

When the worst feelings you could possibly have combine all at once in a moment, that, my poor victims, is called a meltdown. It’s a breakdown, a moment that feels like the end of all days.  Your head starts pounding with a faint, but effective pain that is only sticking around with the sticky feeling of the tears’ residue on your cheek. What could make this dreadful pain even worse? It’s when this pain is a frequent thing caused by frequent situations that come in a routine. Just when the skies clear up and you feel the warmth of the sun, the light fades and the skies turn into one big shadow and the warmth of the light turns wet and cold. This is the story of my life. Though I’ve had some good moments, I can’t help but remember the bad ones.  Let me give you a quick bit of advice from a fellow victim, be careful what you do or say to a person because it could stick with them for ages. It could give them a serious complex of depression. Then, for the rest of their life, they won’t be normal. I’m not normal.  Maybe my stage of saddening memories all began when I was younger. An abusive baby sitter, a mother that always went out, an abusive child hood in general, and poverty clouded my youth. As I got older, I suffered from a more drastic form of abuse. Alcohol, drugs, parties, a crashing parental structure; all this to fill the void of my lost first love, the absence of my father who left to go over seas and support us, being a new girl with no one but her older sister, and being an adolescent teenage girl who was lost. I grasped onto the concept of being rebellious. I had skated before in Arkansas and the stereotypical punk attitude came with me. It was a shell. Behind my brightly colored hair and odd behavior, I was a sweet, talented, intriguing young woman dying to break free. This was 3 years ago. As I look forward to graduating, I look forward to escaping my life that relates to a teenage movie being aired on Life Time. I know, through all these painful events, it’s sculpted me into how I was meant to be. With every tragic situation I have survived, I have gained a piece of armor; I never weakened. God puts us through hell so we can prove ourselves. Life is a battle to see who can survive and to separate the weak from the strong. Those who go through hell and can still find a way to go to sleep at night and be happy with their life; that’s winning.

That’s why, fellow victims, that even though you may endure this sickening and saddening feeling in a routine fashion, don’t ever say your life is over. Live your life to the fullest and always look to the sky and to your future. Always grasp onto a future moment that you know will make you strive on. And the last thing to do is to breath, close your eyes, wipe your tears away, and smile and say to yourself: “I’m still breathing. I passed the test. I’m stronger now. I’m a winner.”

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                -Kayleigh M. Glidewell