Unfinished Excerpts

The Untitled One

I am in love with the man I can not have so I pretend to love the men that I can have. Though love is a strong word, I can say so far that I have found the meaning of it. Things flow off the boat in my life, in a sense where the sea strangles the boat that I am on, rocking it vigorously from every side expecting me to float out dry, and most importantly alive.

I create art from my pain rather than my happiness because no one taught me how to do work the right way; positively. When I am depressed, my grades are high. When I am in pain, my writing is at its best. When I was a child, my mother would beat me till I was beaten into the perfect illusion she wanted. Handful of people know the true person behind the glass. I have changed so many times for people that I have forgotten who I am. I spend time with people and find myself taking in their habits; the way they speak, the way they move their fingers when they are focused, the way they present themselves. These different personas and illusions of everything that may even be everything BUT me. The one thing I truly know that is part of me is my focus; when I am focused, my lips pout. That is all I know that is me. Everything else is a portion of someone and something else that is not me. I have shaped myself for my parents as a good daughter, shaped myself for my brother as the fun older sister, for my friends as the one who can make them all laugh, I have shaped it all into everything and anything other than the creation of god. I start and end my days feeling like a robot that is unable to breath and blend into the humane world around it. There has to be me out there somewhere, there has to be more than this life.

Everyday passes and it feels like my body is outside of me. As if I am not a person walking amongst people, but some immortal creature trapped in the life of an eighteen year old with no love for herself and only increasing problems.

I have not found myself yet, I have not found the ability to feel at home in the womb that God had provided me with. I am not at home with myself. I sound insane, crazy, mentally impaired or unstable. But I seem to be the most sane person you will ever endure in your life.

I leave this prompt untitled with a vow. I can not love, I do not allow myself to fall in love or to be fallen in love with. I break people who want me when I don't want them enough to make it feel like love. I fall for the illusion and create one with the beatings of my mother. I create the fantasy of romance and I will make you believe it is all real but in all reality I cant even tell apart what is real and what is not.

Goodnight beware, for I will always stay untitled.