The Stranger?

One day you'll find me dead:
Drowned in an ocean of ink or
Buried under an avalanche of paper.

Then those closest to me will clean out my room and find my secrets
scattered across the floor.

By the book shelf, my fears about becoming frozen and devoid of emotion.
In front of my bedside table, an acknowledgement of how much I cared.
Beside the rocking chair my honest thoughts and views about love.
At the foot of my bed, declarations of love to...?
And at the other end of my bed,
the journals where I recorded many of my darkest moments.
They are confessions of my worst feelings and failures,
Disconsolate prayers to God,
A true look at how far into the depths of despair I have plunged.


And those who loved me most will sit on my floor surrounded by the papers covered in my handwriting and wonder,
"Did we know her? Did we really know her at all?"
I am afraid no one knows me.
I am merely a stranger to them... and to myself.

Well, we all have a face / That we hide away forever / And we take them out and show ourselves / When everyone has gone / Some are satin some are steel / Some are silk and some are leather / They're the faces of the stranger / But we love to try them on
-'The Stranger' lyrics by Billy Joel (from the album I'm holding in the picture)
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Sorry for the somewhat morbid post. The first stanza was inspired by my messy room which always seems to have piles of paper littered everywhere... but then I started thinking what would I happen if someone read all these papers? I realized how startled they would be by the many secrets and hidden thoughts I hold that I've never even given hint of. So, it went downhill from then on. Also, these past few days I have been worried about myself. I've been feeling things, doing things, thinking things that I just don't want to believe is who I am. But I just don't know...

On a happier note, my friend Ever has started a blog called Intractable Whispers. It is a blog to better connect the lovely people of this blogging world. She has asked me to extend the invitation for you all to join. It is a place to share your writings and things that inspire you. If you would like to join go here. I would greatly encourage you to do so, even if you don't know Ever. It would be simply lovely if you did, but no pressure at all. :)

la marionnette.

Brittle bones that can barely hold the weight of my inadequacy.
Lungs filled with glass, vocal chords that only speak carefully chosen words.
Strings attached to my meaningless limbs, a tawdry frock whose garishness I detest.
A painted smile, a mask I cannot, dare not crack.

I am a marionette.
My master is a harsh one.
"Dance, dance!" she cries.
All I want is to sleep.
Sometimes I think I'd rather be dead, than alive through her maneuverings.

{Distorted carnival sounds;
Bright and coloured lights that whirl.
A carousel that never stops,
A ferris wheel stuck at the top.}

"Dance, my puppet! Danse, ma poupée!"

On the stage with the blinding lights, the insincere music never ceases.
My dance of my deceit never ends.
All in hopes to please the audience that I'm afraid to look at now.

The hands that fashioned me were gentle,
I remember them faintly, faintly.
My creator made me with a purpose!
I remember his kind voice told me.
He put something of himself in my heart.
I can still feel it pulsing, pumping his life into me those times when I want death.

I wish I could have stayed with him,
directed by his wise hands
But someone... someone thought they knew better than my creator.
That someone thought they could control me better than he ever could.

So, I jerk and bob to the unrelenting commands;
Too broken to make things right.
Forever to be haunted by this knowledge:
The someone who holds my strings,
the someone who controls my actions.... is no one but myself.

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{I wrote this yesterday when I was supposed to be doing school, hehe. A lot of my writing seems to get done when I'm supposed to be doing other things... like sleeping! Ah well.
And while, yes, this is allegorical, it is not a representation of how I'm feeling right now. I just don't want anyone to worry about me; I'm fine! Admittedly though, I have felt this way in the past.}


{Image found here.}