Posted by AdaGrace on April 25, 2005, at 11:13:04
You, Him, Them, Us
Everyone swirls in circles in my head.
Answers evade.
Questions abound.I cannot understand what the unstable mind twists into a massive ball of tangled threads.
Excape from the turmoil is often a detriment in itself.
Who am I if not for you, him, them, us.
What am I, for that matter?There are others in me who deal with all of you separately.
The stable queen of us all sometimes falters and the gates open.
They escape.
One by one they appear.
They make their presence known, in different stages of the turmoil.The temptress is the one I admire the most.
She is confident with herself, beautiful, sexy, provocative.
Not a care in the world.
You bring out the naughtyness in her.
She likes the new experiences you bring.
She's daring, carefree, and sometimes careless.
She relives her youth, the youth I wanted to have, but didn't.
She finds herself surrounded by friends, and boy does she have fun.
She makes people laugh.
They flock to her like moths to a flame.
She burns many, and warms the rest who are willing to risk the consequences.
She smokes too much, she drinks too much, and she loves too much.
Excess is not a word she cares to use.
She sucks at life like a fish gasping for air in a murky oily world.
I like her.
Oh how I'd love to be her all the time.
You like her too.
She's good to you.
She's good for you.
She is me.
I am her.There is also the raging, hormonally f*cked up one.
The pre-menopausal, head spinning, projectile vometing b*tch who hates what is happening to her body and takes it out on everyone in her path.
She screams.
She cries.
She rants.
She hates herself and God who is crueling withering her womb.
She hates what time is doing to her, and she rebels the only way she knows how.
She doesn't understand.
She doesn't care.
She hates men for not having to go through what she does.
She drinks too much, she smokes too much, and she yells way, way, too much.
You hate her, but she won't go away.
I don't like her, but yet I am her, and therefore must protect her from those who do not understand.
She is me.
I am her.
Then of course there is the wounded sparrow.
She wants love desparately.
She often searches for it in the wrong places.
He shot her through the heart, and she has yet to recover.
He took her love.
She was afraid to give it, but he coaxed it out of her.
He promissed the moon to her with beautiful words.
He boosted her confidence only to take it all away.
She no longer exists in that form, that pretty little finch became a sparrow overnight.
She cries at night.
She hides during the day.
She wants everyone she meets to be him.
She fears everyone will eventually become him.
She does not trust.
She does not smile.
She drinks too much, she smokes too much, and she hurts soooo much.
She exists in a black painful world.
She lives, but she is not alive.
I am embarassed of her.
You can't stand her, she brings you down.
She is me.
I am her.The maniac driving us all slowly insane is also within.
The maniac has a concious.
Yet has no clue how to express it.
She tries desperately to stop the madness of us all, but in the process only makes things worse.
She cannot control the demons that haunt our souls, because she is the demon.
She drinks to control the madness, but the madness requires the drink.
I am afraid of her.
Afraid of her abilities.
Afraid she will eventually control.
She offers a padded cell, medicine to make us all go away, even herself, and of course she thinks she offers peace.
She thinks if she could only gain control, she could cure us all.
She wants us to live inside her, hidden from you, him, and them.
You don't really know she exists.
You have only seen bits of her in the rest of us.The queen, the mother of them/us all, reigns with protective wings.
She tries to control in an uncontrollable environment.
She has too much to do.
She takes "Mother's Little Helpers" to just get by.
She works hard at making everyone happy.
She makes it work most of the time.
She fails sometimes when things get to clustered in her mind.
She loses track of who is who, what is what, and where the tranquility of saneness is, when she cannot control every one so that she can function in the world.
She works, she toils, she bears the financial burdon, and yet, she is losing the control she craves.
We are a heavy load for her, and she can't keep up.
She fears she is losing the battle.
She drinks too much, she smokes too much, and she worries way too much.She is me.
I am her.
I am them.I am her and she is me and we are them and we just dissagree..........
AdaGrace
04/25/05
poster:AdaGrace
thread:489233
URL: http://www.dr-bob.org/babble/write/20050419/msgs/489233.html