Expired Promises
February 27, 2008
Do promises come with an expiration date? A ‘void if used after’? Perhaps a threshold?
If I promise to love you forever, do I really break that promise if I still love you? Even though I am not with you?
If I promise to keep you safe always, do I really break that promise if it is from me that you need to be kept safe? Even if it means that I cannot have you?
If I promise to spend the day with you, do I really break that promise if I talked to you a few times across the day? Even if it was not for very long?
If I promise to take care of you, do I really break that promise if I am working as hard as I can? Even if you still have to?
If I promise you the world, do I really break that promise if I have given you my world? Even if your world is too cluttered to see it?
Do I break a promise if it is an after-effect? If in the moment, I meant what I said, do I really break a promise if only to keep that promise? Is it really a broken promise if the threshold in which to keep the promise has expired?
Is it really a broken promise if I tried?
Tags: expiration, promise, broken promise
Dear Mr. President
February 25, 2008
I am an inquisitive person by nature. I cannot get through one day without wondering about this or that or finding this or that peculiar. I question reality and what we have accepted as reality. I just cannot accept that my lot in life is to live and die. There has to be more to life. There has to be a better reason for ‘us’ than just living. A friend of mine sent me this song and while I had heard it before, I listened to it like 15 or more times the other night just thinking about the words. I searched youtube and probably watched every video created for this song. There are plenty of good ones. I like this one (among several others, but only going to post this one):
I finally figured out how to post a video…I think.
Tags: inquisitive, peculiar, reality
Disappointment
February 19, 2008
I set myself up to be disappointed because even though I know the world is not the utopia I would like it to be, I expect fantasy. I expect for everyone to think like I do and adhere to the chivalry of medieval times. But we are no longer in the medieval period; chivalry is dead and along with it is that special feeling of feeling special.
Even when I know that things will not go the way I want or even the way everyone promises me they will, I try to hold on to the promises knowing I will only be disappointed in the end. I get hurt, disappointed, and feel alone, but have no one else to blame but myself. When I know the truth and choose to believe the lies, how can I really hold anyone else accountable? In the scheme of things, the white lies are meaningless, but in the moment they feel like a ton of bricks.
Yesterday was my birthday. And my sister did not even wish me a happy birthday.
Tags: chivalry, special, hurt, disappointed, alone
Love
February 13, 2008
With Valentine’s day approaching and everyone running around trying to buy last minute gifts, it can be real easy to get caught up in the hype that the day brings. I myself do not care about gifts but do like the idea of spending the evening with my love. If we get no other day that month together, we should get that one, right? But why restrict it to just one day a year? I love my baby with all my heart and soul and tell her daily. I would love nothing more than to spend quality time with her every day for the rest of my life. Should I save those just for Valentine’s day? Should I save a special gift, trip, or card for just one day a year?
There is an old adage that states something to the affect that tomorrow is not guaranteed so we should spend each day like it is our last. So why not make every day Valentine’s day? I would hate to die tomorrow without having told my love that I love her with all my heart and how much she means to me. I would hate it even more still if I did not get to spend some sort of quality time with her the day before. If I lived today like it was the last, I would hold my girl tight and remind her why I love her so much. Remind her how important she is to me. I would show her how much I truly love her.
I love love. It is a great force. It can bring down a kingdom, force men to go to war, and more importantly, motivate the heart. With a force like that, what can stop a man?
Mommy Dearest
February 11, 2008
When I am very sick or at my wit’s end, I curl up in a ball in my bed and cry. When I do not know my left from my right or up from down, I want nothing more than to just be alone. But I cry out for my mommy. I want my mommy I say over and over again.
I was adopted shortly before my third birthday. My sister and I both to the same family. My adoptive mother had many problems. She was not well. Subsequently, she would beat us and degrade us like no mother should. My sister has a different memory of our childhood, but that is for another post. I wanted nothing more than a normal family. I wanted a mother and father who loved me. I wanted a mother who did not make fun of me, but rather hugged me, kissed me, and told me that she loved me.
I was a normal teenager. While I had excellent grades, I talked back and disobeyed my parents. I however did not smoke or do drugs like my sisters did. But still I could not get this woman to love me. In one of our many fights, I asked her what it was that I was doing wrong. She told me quite simply that I was breathing. You’re breathing.
My mother used to say that once we grew up, we would not take care of her; we would forget about her. Truth be told, I still loved my mother very much. I had always thought about how I would take care of her when she would have no one like my grandmother. I had always tried as a kid and a teen to make my mother feel better. I knew she had issues with her weight that did not make her feel good about herself so i tried to get her thinking about other things or thinking that it was ok to get that Frosty from Wendy’s because it was something us kids wanted. I tried to make things right for her. I failed.
I got sent back into the system…no…scratch that…I asked to be sent back into the system. My mother had hit me with a glass coffee pot cutting the top of my head, and it scared me. I had ran out of the house so high on adrenaline that I did not even notice the oncoming car that almost hit me as I crossed the street to my friend’s house. My mother had come and got me assuring the friend’s mother that she would take me to the hospital. Instead, she took me home and cleaned me up as best she could. She was not going to take me to the hospital. If not for my friend’s mother calling the cops, I would not have gone. The idea that she could do that made me think she could do worse. Because the violence was only escalating. I was scared. I asked them to take me away from her. I was tired of the abuse. I hated that they would not take my sister with me, but I still say I would make the same choice today. I wanted to kill myself so many times in that house. I did not hate me or who I was; I just hated my life. Getting out freed me.
Yet still, when I am at my weakest moments or very sick, I call out for my mommy. I want my mommy. Only my mommy can make me feel better. Not that she was that type…just I want my mommy.
