Friday, January 22, 2010

memories rekindled




Staring relentlessly at the purple and green squared curtain hanging motionless from the iron hooks above.

Whispers drift inward, around and under the purple-green divider, "where is her family, no one is here for her."

Alone. Happy being so. Miserable as well. I wanted no one here. I wanted *someone* here. I get my first wish. Alone.

They will be here. I tell them. Sister dropped me off. Brother will pick me up. My family works. (But not all of them)

Groggy awakening from my drug induced stupor. My legs are floating, but I see from the mirror above that they only lie there.

Screws placed. Wound closed. Stitches tied. Batting wrapped. Plaster dried. Tingling disappeared. And still, no one is here.

This is the way I prefer it - the world at a distance. Everyone at my fingertips, held distantly away.

Still, I am sadened by the whispers; dredging up memories of a time long lost - when I urned not for solitude.

6 comments:

Gavin said...

Omg..this was brilliant!

findingmywingsinlife said...

I still think you're better at this frank honesty in writing than I am and this post is prove. Hope you get better soon! (well at least your foot anyway, the rest- like you told me the other day- I just don't have all the answers for, but if I did I'd gladly give them to you my friend)

Brosreview said...

You keep proving my previous observation and declaration that you are brilliant in conveying internal emotions.

I specially like the oxymoron feel of this line - "Everyone at my fingertips, held distantly away".

You know what, I can feel this because I have been, and may be I'm like this.

It is this uncertain preference to be loved but to be alone at the same time. Although not wholly possible, you yearn for it. Or, perhaps, you are seeking solitude to begin loving yourself. There is a start for love. I can feel that.

A very very sad piece dipped in mental confusions(if I may).

Triana said...

Gavin - Usually I'm not so inclined to ask for an outsiders opinion of my own life; to be quite blunt I just don't give a flying flip (in more expressive terms that I'm inclined to use). However, your writing intrigues me, and I'm interested in knowing how we have such similiar views and allow the same expression of emotion, from starkly obvious different paths.

Wings - Dark corners allow stories to be told that most do not want to hear. Our views create different writings, but not one better than the other.

Brosreview - Again, few in life intrigue me far enough to ask what others may view as intimate questions. Don't get me wrong, I ask many questions both of the known and unknown from anyone and everyone. I don't find myself waiting so precariously for the answers, or more correctly said, the responses, because when is the ever truly an answer?

This was not my character to start, but an accumulation of layers as a survival technique throughout the years. The lack of true, honest love in return for all that I had given, from childhood thru recent years. Many days I wonder if I am capable of being me again. So begins the cycle of, "who am I?" Unanswerable, past the point of knowing who I WAS.

Quite true - "mental confusion" - there is no other me. Not at this time. Thank you!

Brosreview said...

Everything is a result of something. I am sorry, only if I have offended you.

Triana said...

Offended me? Oh no, no, no. There is nothing here to appologize for. I was merely reminiscing my life. I look forward to your comments Ajey!
:)~