Words and Feelings

Words can hurt.

but in my experience feelings hurt more. Words may mean a lot, but they can also be utterly empty, devoid of any trappings outside of what inflection might be added by the tone of the speaker. And on paper, they can be static, empty, just black marks on the page with nothing behind them. We are the ones that make words have meaning, and sometimes, even to us, they are only the little black marks. But feelings are feelings, no escape there.

I am use to hiding, lost behind a mask of carefully chosen words, expression's, reactions. It was not a mask like the traditional ones, it wasn't one fixed painting that covered my face; no more like A.I. I suppose, having several 'modes' on hold to summon at will, at need for them. I didn't show myself, who I was was for me alone. And the feelings were ignored, pushed away. After all that was the easy way to live. You have to understand something, in foster care you are moved around all the time, there was no constant in my life, nothing really stable outside my school. And I had learned from a young age that people didn't like to be around you if you were upset or needy or anything that they didn't want to deal with. I fear rejection, it is what scares me like nothing else in life, so I worked hard to make sure I could be what everyone around me wanted or needed, I shielded how I really felt and kept all my feelings to myself, showing only the outside. Only the good girl.

"Good girl", "smart girl"
"You make us so proud girl"
Role model, hard life
But really nothing, really little done
Not as good as thoughts make her
Not as strong, not as happy
Smile girl, smile bright
All eyes are fixed on you tonight
Here's your chance, don't mess up
Faultless girl, be that girl
Prove yourself and please the world
Hard worker, curtsy sweet
Toss your curls, endearing, kind and giving
Give you all and hope for...
For pride that makes you feel like a lie
For smiles that fade, that die
For praise that weighs down upon you
Have to be better, have to do more
Better girl, be better girl
Dont' let those good thoughts die
Time running out, almost time to be
Be forgotten, one day you're gone, simply gone
But then that's nothing new, you already knew
Loneliness is already you

~Good Girl

Don't let those good thoughts die.

I worked so hard on making sure that the thoughts of others in esteem of me would not fade but I forgot to support my own self, to focus on what I needed, on what was needed for me to be okay and happy. I relied on the modes of automatic reaction for years, even my tears felt programmed in because I made the world muted, everything I felt came out in art, in writing, in the characters I wrote or poetry. It was enough for me because it was all that I allowed myself. Yet lately people want more, people want what is beneath the masks, even if they don't know that the masks are there. And the masks in part aren't there, I've worn them so long they have become a part of me.

But ever since I started writing my autobiography, purging the darkness from my mind, freeing myself with the truth of my words; I have lived more, felt more. Everything has changed this year, I have grown and become younger at the same time, mature and a child, paradoxical in so many ways that is what I am.

I am alive, I am burning, my soul is on the fire of life, I know joy and laughter and pain and sorrow, and I feel it. I feel everything about me. The other day when it was raining I left my umbrella on purpose inside and went and just stood in the rain, feeling the sensation of the rain drops falling on my skin, covering and dripping down me. I tilt my face back in the sun and let my eyes close as the music of the city fills my ears. I'll get on the bus that takes the long way around the city rather then the direct rout just to see more, to reveal in the assault on the senses that it is to live here. I love and fear and cry and pout and tease and laugh.

Living is such a complex, crazy thing that we do.

And some days are worse then others, some days are horrible, others are wonderful.

Thursday was one of my horrible days, the worst I've had since the New Year, the worst in a very long time actually. It started out okay, really it did, just spending time with my boyfriend, chatting. But the closer it gets to me going to him, going and becoming part of his life in a way that I haven't yet, the more nervous I get. After all I have never met a guys family before, how am I going to fit into his life? I was suddenly near tears and thinking I shouldn't step onto that plane, because right now, as we are right now, I'm his dream girl, his perfect match. Oh I'm far from perfect in so many ways and he knows it, but I'm perfect for him in his eyes. What if by going to him I ended that? I was so afraid and I've been doing all this research about how to act with family. I've been over thinking things the way I always do. But mon couer was patient and understanding enough to talk to me, to talk through those fears and calm me down from tears to reasonable sanity.

However school wasn't going to keep things that way. I've been dealing with red tape bs for months now because of verification of my FASFA and other silly little things, but it was really messing up things. I was actually considering dropping out of school, giving up and trying to find something more 'practical' to do.

I went to my Figure Drawing class and spent the first half fighting back tears and convinced I couldn't draw. But then it came time for my homework to be reviewed and my teacher asked me what was wrong. See, these past few weeks I've been alive and all but quivering in classes, passionate and ready to go. So eager, so on fire to learn, to work, to go and grow. He noticed that was off on Thursday so I told him some and he gave me the largest compliment I could have ever received. He told me I couldn't give up and stop, that I was one of the few students he saw each semester he knew would make it as a real artist in this world, because of my passion, my love of what I did, that I had so much promise and I needed to keep going. Art isn't easy, but it would be worth it.

I went back to work then, actually working instead of fighting tears and produced something half decent. But I still felt hallow, raw and overwhelmed, it was the burn out of weeks upon weeks of frustration, fear, helplessness and loneliness in a part as well. My best friend and my boyfriend are both hours away from me, its all to easy to feel lonely here, in a city of so many when I don't have anyone to be with. I need touch, I need to be held, I know that, I'm human. I took the long bus ride home and sat in the dark, listening to music as the city moved past me and I tried to struggle with the feelings that were filling me and crying out. I made it up to my room before I broke down into tears again and cried before calling Neil to talk. I said goodbye to him soon after and cried myself to sleep, going without dinner instead to just get some sleep and try and have a brighter look the next day.

And you know what, it worked.

Friday I got up out of bed even though I didn't really want to. My roommate went with me and I faced the issues, I dealt with things and they turned around, turned out okay. I made things better for myself.

I keep saying I want things to get easier and they do, and then something else becomes hard, because, as sucky as it is that is life, its the endless cycle that we live in. And we as humans struggle through it, with the help of those I love. A friend here in the city told me I have to learn to ask for help and take it without feeling bad about it; no one can make it through this crazy world by themselves, just won't happen. Living is an art, I still haven't perfected my execution by any means, but I'm learning, as we all are.

So here are my little black marks on the page. My words, they could be empty, they could be crammed full of meaning and emotion. I know what they are for me, what are they for you? I can't decide that, only you can. I guess I'll keep feeling, because the mask has slipped and I'm coming out, are you?