To Be A Part
If I wrote these words for only my eyes to see and to know
They would only be letters floating about in the universe, alone.
They would disappear, when memory fades, and become lost.

For me to only, see???? How can that be???? What can that mean to only me? To share my secrets with myself, alone???? What in the goddamn hell point is that????😵‍💫🤬

What kind of fucked up shit is going on in that mind? I’m supposed to write for only myself? To not show???? This is me goddammit! I want you to see! What other point is there but to show? Isn't that what we live for. For seeing each other in authenticity, to showcase our reality?
 
I need you to see.  Or else. Or else. Or else…I am alone. And only I know. And only I am here on this page. Here on this page. Here on this page. No, please! Don’t leave me alone on this page.

I am writing a story about me. My self-expression is in session. What makes me come alive? What makes me throw a fit?😤 Writing that down, to show. This is who I am!! Let’s see each other for a minute or two. Wow! This is who you are! How amazing! We are two separate people, seeing each other in this goddamn moment of time! 

Aren’t you ever lonely? Writing in solitude. Closing your book, to be unseen by any person? I do not understand, but it’s so admirable. To not show? That is what I live for. To show! Why? Isn’t it obvious? I am a lonely person and this is the only way I can be real. This is the only avenue to take. Do I want superficial connections that are hollow? Fuck NO!!!

Let’s be real. Let’s be us! Let’s not pretend here in this space; on this blank sheet of paper. This place setting. This showcase! Putting ourselves in the scene, the main characters, the stars. The sparklers. The beautiful beings.

Let’s be us! Let’s be us! Let’s be us! Let’s play, cry, laugh! But dammit this is not pretend play acting. The showcase, main event, premier, is US. Here right now. In this moment of time. 

I cannot exist alone. And I won’t pretend to please your pallet. This is the raw footage, so stay tuned. It ain’t  always pretty. No sir, not me. I am as messy as can be. But what you see. What you see. What you see. Will be me. I’ll be no stranger to wonder about. Wondering and wondering. Who is this person I am seeing? They don’t seem quite real. 

Can we just be real? Can we? Can we? This life is not long and I do not have the time for these games, these charades. Making me so goddamn tired I entered into early hibernation. A self-imposed seclusion. Life retirement. To get away. Get away! Get away! Horribleness, go away!

I can’t do it, and I won’t. I won’t, I won’t, I won't! And you can’t make me! 😠 Being that other person, a stranger to even myself, pretty words Overflowing. Tears always flowing.  Because it is so much work. So much work. To try and fit in. To be a part. To be a part? Wow, what a combination of words. “To be a part.” That is what we are all striving for on this planet isn’t it? To be a part. But not that way. Not that way. Please no. Grinding me down to a metallic dust. My soul, broken down to rust.

If I were to be, only me, out there. The world would have a reckoning worth remembering! Instead, I am hidden inside, behind the scenes. Allowing myself to be myself. Here is this safe space. I am resting from life. 

Sometimes if I go out there, the real me pops back into my body and I fight with someone on the streets because sometimes…..I hate people. Yes. Sometimes I hate people. Then I am scolded to hold it together. Why? When releasing it feels so damn good! They deserved my wrath, my fire, my rage. I do not attack the innocent. But I will, if provoked….I will fight. 

So you see? I have tried to mingle. But everything makes me so goddamn angry. What I am forced to see and hear. The bullshit, the abuse, the meanness. All making me want to fight. So I stay. I hide away. I can no longer play nice in this world, if I ever could is debatable. I do not want to hate people. I want to love. I want to understand why. Rationalize, theorize, philosophize. But to have that in my face? My behavior, a shameful disgrace!

Ha, I love it though. Because I am angry and I don’t want to keep it inside, I want to fight back. I want to lay down in front of a tank. Join me in the fight for justice. Lay with me.

Otherwise I am not interested in you. If you love the way I do. If you believe in truth, love, and justice, you are my friend. Who wouldn’t believe in those things though? It’s crazy right? That some people don’t. Even though they will lie to your face and pretend they are good people. 

That is the reason I cannot be a real person in the “real” world.

What other purpose is there to fight, but to fight for love. To fight for the people who need help. What other reason is there to fight? There’s no other goddamn reason to fight. But here I am, fighting with a fellow dog walker about who’s dog was in the wrong. 😂 That is what is so hilarious. If someone was filming, I’d be on YouTube and people would have a good laugh. Proving my point that I am not safe around people. I am a danger to myself and others. 😂😈

So for now, I will keep everyone safe from my wrath. Oh my wrath is scary, is it not? 🤬😈👿 I will write about it instead. So circling back to the topic at hand, I invite you to see my wrath from the safety of your screen. My wrath is a part of me, and I cherish her. When you see my wrath, you see me. Not a pretender, acting a scene, but the real sparkling alive, me. 

*This is not really a poem exactly, but it also sort of is. I sometimes want to be seen so much that I feel sad. I am a child again, forgotten. Who will see me? Who will know who I am? Who will appreciate the real person, the non-pretender? Then I want to cry. And sometimes I do cry. It is fascinating to me that the feeling of rejection is what can make the tears flow. The feeling of being small and insignificant. Unimportant. To feel like I don’t matter. 

Yes feeling unseen brings it on. Yet to cry for any other reason, is unattainable. Yet I can cry for a really poorly acted scene on TV? But I digress. This need to be seen? Does everyone have this, or is it only me? It seems extra important to me. It gets me into all sorts of trouble in the outside world. See me! See me! Here I am! Shouting from the rooftop. A spectacle. Obscenely Exposing my private parts. That’s how it feels afterwards. When I’m alone going over it all in my head.

This cycle of time, in this space. I am safe from all of that. This is a way I have found to announce my existence. To say, “here I am world!” I may be hiding, but if you seek, you will find me. You will find me. And I will be so happy to see you