July 5, 2009
it’s easier for me to write these things than say them.
I just can’t back down,
I can’t “lose”.
I don’t want to have to give in to apologies.
Showing that maybe we are even,
when I want to be one point ahead.
“Sticks and stones may break my bones,
but words will never hurt me.”
Why, that is a lie.
People tell me all the time
that my words are more powerful than I think.
I never believed them because I was the person
on the other side.
The one saying all those hurtful things.
I was frustrated, but I know it was uncalled for.
How did I let just one word slip from my mouth?
I’m sorry, I truly am.
After the guilt settled in my stomach
I knew I would have to say it.
That I AM sorry, but I can’t.
It seems I’ve gone mute
and shame myself for all that I’ve ever said.
Hide away in my room,
It has never been easy for me, saying sorry.
Sometimes I say it with my fingers crossed behind my back,
other times I mumble it,
and now I finally do mean it.
Yet I can’t come to say it to your face
because you have won in this “battle”
(that you don’t know you’re playing).
You might forgive me, maybe not.
Though something similar might just happen again,
but things just won’t be the same.
I could be making a big deal out of this,
but it was a pretty bad idea.
I just didn’t take the time to think,
well, I guess I did, but it just came out of my mouth
rather then staying put inside my head.
Will this have to end in slamming doors
or will you read this and forgive me?
I know I’m in trouble
and the guilt keeps nagging, “Stop keeping me in suspense!”
Maybe by the time you read this, things will have cooled off.
I am at loss of words all I can say is,
February 16, 2009
I was thinking. If I was offered the opportunity to be a journalist for a music magazine (possibly Alternative Press or Rolling Stone) or to be a guitarist in an amazing band. Which would I choose? I had wanted to play guitar since I was nine years old. Practicing my air guitar in the privacy of my own room, completely spazing. Or pouring my guts out with ink and paper in hopes of becoming an utterly brilliant writer.
Being in a band would be quite interesting. I’d enjoy the fun questionnaires you get in interviews and your “humble” opinion on things. Looking super fierce in when you play live so you can intimidate people. Or to be some coffee drinking freak, blinded from the sun, glued to your computer, writing obsesser. Wearing T-shirts and tight jeans, strutting around like you know what you’re doing. Reader, does that thought ever cross your mind? I wonder where life will take me quite often. Who will I end up being in the next couple of years (I’m hoping I’ll stay true to who I am now.)?
Reader, let’s be honest. Would either of those jobs fully satisfy me? I seem to be quite an undecided person. I purchase an item at a store. “I love it! I’m so happy I bought it!” The next twenty minutes. “What the heck did I just waste my money on?! I could have bought ‘such and such’.” Yep, that is me. Being on the road with a band would be fun for a while. Awake at all hours, doing what you love, traveling, and playing shows. My only problem? I get motion sickness. I’d practically be bulimic. Then the shows would get tiring, performing the same songs until you write a new one. I suppose I shouldn’t think so negatively, maybe I’d be able to make a big impact on a lot of kids. Then there is writing. After a while, what is there to talk about? You are usually seen with a pen in your hand or your eyes are burning from staring at a computer screen for so many hours.
I guess I can be quite the “party pooper”, but that’s just me my friend. You either do or don’t like me, I don’t care too much. Either one I’d love. Writing would be easier to handle, though I’d miss the comfort of my guitar, Bella, too much. The excitement of playing a gig and going crazy on stage sounds and looks intruiging. Who knows where the world might take me….