The shadow on my wall sits and accepts its life and my choices, but i question.
2012 has come with ample warning yet the tears I hide behind my painted smiles waits to be released. My birthday has passed and thus the memory of my mother and sisters grave disappearing beneath the build up of time. I miss them and they way that made me feel; complete. I accept their deaths but struggle with the gift I have known as life. I live in a boarding house in a area known for drugs and crime, the people I live with are respectful mostly, to my face but I know that when I'm not there they judge what they resist to understand; my sexuality and my depression and social anxiety. I give them what assets and efforts I can afford to give but their respect, or at least their tolerance of me continues to avoid me.
I returned to TAFE and was informed that my presence there is no longer an option, I know they mean well, that they want me to focus on finding a new job rather than living in the past and helping them for free. money is sadly an issue that has risen. A new job would change that but the fear of change, the fear of the unknown motivates me to hide in my room with only my depression for company. I don't like my house or the way in which I'm living however, because it is familiar I accept and refuse to change my situation.
My poetry continues to be born without my effort, my pieces jump from my mind to paper with out much thought, both a good and bad thing. good for I'm continuing to express my anger and regret from the moments of my past, some thrown at me and some that I created my own. Bad for some emotional pieces are written but without my thought the emotions associated with those pieces remain in my mind, fighting for a way to escape even if for just a moment on ignorance.
I made a new friend, the first one in years last Christmas. Have spent time with him and have enjoyed out talks and meaningful exchanges. But like most aspects to life and communication there is a down side; as he learns of my past and the pain I carry he has given pity and that pity becomes anger, for I hold on to the pain and hide behind it. I don't work anymore, I don't have large group of friends or a family and the less said about the illusion of love the better. My life is empty and that is partiality my fault, I accept that. His anger stems from the assumption that I have great social skills, a sense of humor and am motivated and reliable once I create a routine, Angry for despite these possible abilities I choose to live in a situation that is hurting me and choosing to hide from life knowing that I will wake up on my twenty seventh birthday and still lack the basics that I want yet do nothing to obtain now.
If you made it this far than I thank you .. . . . . . .
Until we speak . . . . . . .