Tag Archives: Emotion

Bitter.

I’m in the middle of writing a five page paper that I really don’t want to  write. And not just because I don’t want to write it and homework is stupid and all of that. I don’t want to write it because it’s been causing tears to swell in my eyes for the past two hours.

Maybe that sounds ridiculous. It probably is. But I’m having to write about an experience I’ve had for the past semester. It’s not that it’s bad. Not really.

It just makes me sad. I’m so disappointed. And I’m frustrated. I’m just so frustrated. Because this paper wants me to write about what I’ve learned and I’m sitting here typing up all of the things I’ve learned that aren’t important to me. That aren’t hard. That don’t make a bit of difference. That I could have learned on my own without this experience.

And maybe it’s good for me. Maybe it’s good to have my patience tested like this. Maybe it’s good to do work that is so boring I feel like my brain will fall out. Maybe it’s good. It will strengthen my endurance. It will give me more experience to know where other people are coming from. It will open my eyes to all the behind the scenes work that no one ever sees.

But maybe… maybe it will make me bitter. Maybe it will make me hate where I am and cause me to hate what I’m learning. Maybe it will keep me from learning things that would be of so much more value to me. Things that I would find relevant to life and to the work I hope to accomplish someday. And that’s what really scares me.

So what have I learned from this experience? Nothing I couldn’t have learned, and would have learned elsewhere. What did I gain? A longing for what I don’t have, yet a forced self-imposed, forced acceptance for what I do. What are the positives of my experience? I’m made to exercise patience I don’t have.  The negatives? This isn’t what I want. And I’m so bored. And I’m missing out consistently on all of the opportunities my peers are given.

Also, clearly I can answer his questions in a paragraph. I have no idea why he’s requiring a five page length.

-Melissa

Advertisements

Missing you.

I couldn’t find the vanilla.

I knew exactly where it should be. I’d been down the baking isle three times. I wondered from it, up and down every isle now because clearly it had to be here somewhere.

A song came on the radio. The familiarity struck me even before I realized what it was. It was late enough that most people were in their homes instead of grocery shopping so the store felt peaceful. I sang the song softly as I wondered around. What had I been looking for?

Did you still listen to this band? Hmm. I never would have heard of them if not for you. I found myself looking for a drink you once got here that I’d never been able to find since.

Where would I be….How different would my life be…. If you were still in it?

I squeezed my eyes shut for just a moment and tried to picture calling you right then if nothing between us had ever gone wrong. Because I wanted so badly- I want so badly- to talk to you. And not to rehash anything or figure out what happened. Just to talk. Just to hear your perspective. Just to hear you. Just because I miss you.

Yes, even still.

But I couldn’t picture what my life would be like now if our friendship would have lasted. I can’t imagine it. It’s taken so many unexpected turns since I knew you. I don’t know if they would have been effected by your presence in my life somehow or not. I just don’t know.

But I do know it sure would have been nice to call you today and here your voice… I so much hate that…. it seems like a foreign concept now. I’ve… I’ve lost pieces of you as time has gone on. I so much wish I had never had to. But I… the person you knew no longer exists and the only memories I have of you… well, they’re actually hers.

The way you cared about me wasn’t fair, you know. The way you saw me wasn’t fair. It didn’t make sense. You shouldn’t have been so good to me. You shouldn’t have been so in tune with me.

Because now I miss you quite terribly.

And then the song ended. Something much friendlier came softly through the speakers above me, like the other song had never played. And no one noticed the change. No one felt like something so, so, so good had been cut way too short. No one felt an emptiness in it’s absence.

Except me, of course.

Now….where was the vanilla?

Missing you.

-Melissa

Three.

Once.

You had me at hello

Once

I can see the moment

Perfectly held

Perfectly preserved

Once

To stay indefinately

Oh, honest?

Much longer

But he, in that image,

Ceases to be

And me, in that image,

Long gone, my dear

You have become merely a whisper

Of worry once held

Laughter now is laced with freedom

Once, it was with longing

Once

But yesterday is more distant

Today is tomorrow

Once is a memory

And once was enough

Refuse.

Just a whisper

Not heard, but seen

I embrace anxiety like an old friend

Warm and inviting

Your pain filling my chest

Spreading through each vein

Until every bit of me is shaking

You ask for words

I have none

Nothing to ease this moment

Nothing to stop your pain

Or this shaking

My breath soon leaves me

Unbearable worry to blame

I refuse to be consumed.

So I fight for breath

I fight for words

I’ll fight for you

Your pain as an effective fuel

Helpless in reality

Nothing to offer but presense

Nothing to offer but prayer

(And I’ve heard prayer moves mountains)

Fool.

I’m so f***ing invincible

Because I have to be

Powerful, able

I can’t be overcome

Strong, I stand firm

Unyeilding

Able to lift and then

Carry along the weight

Of the world

Without breaking

I don’t even come close

Nothing can hurt me

Nothing can touch me

I’m unreachable

I am quite aware

I’m not fooling you

I’m probably not fooling

Anyone

But let me fool myself

Let me believe I can’t be broken

The hope is when hurt

Surrounds me on every side

I won’t feel it when it hits

-Melissa

Missing you.

Someone asked me the other day how I ever could have been friends with you.

For once, I tried to put myself in his shoes. Really, in their shoes. Because I know he wasn’t the only one. I knew how… hard you could be. I knew, vaguely, how other people saw you.

And I listened as he tried to explain why it never made sense that you and I were friends. How it never made sense to anyone. He said the same about another one of my friends too. Honestly, he doesn’t see much clearly. But I understand what he was saying. I mean… sort of. I understand what he thought he saw.

But that’s just the thing. He didn’t see you. He thought he did.

But he didn’t see the first time you spoke to me. I sat there quietly, just like I always do, and you made conversation with me. You know, I don’t remember the moment I first meet someone. Most of the time, you just wake up one day and you’re friends with someone and you can’t remember the moment it started. But I remember you. Because I could tell you…saw me. Do you know how rarely that happens?

He also didn’t see the time I had to deal with a death surrounded by people I barely knew. You were the only person here that I could tell. He didn’t see the way your face fell when I told you. You had no reason for your face to fall. You didn’t know them. But you let yourself feel my pain.

He thought he saw you. And maybe he did. But it wasn’t the real you. It was the hard you. The you others couldn’t see past. The you people were afraid of. Who pushed people away. Who constantly built up your walls, higher and higher. But he didn’t see that crack in your walls. Just barely big enough to let a grain of sand get through. And I got through.

I just… I didn’t know how many layers of walls there were. Not that that would have changed anything. Okay. Maybe it would have. Because I do hope I would have fought a hell of a lot harder than I did at the end.

What terrifies me now is that I know you’ve pushed me out. And you repaired that crack in that one wall. And your walls got higher. Stronger. And I’m… terrified you won’t let any one else find another crack. I’m afraid you’ve repaired them all so perfectly that no one else will even be able to think about getting through to you. I’m afraid you wake up every morning and take a walk around the wall, a bucket of mortar in your hand, and fill all the cracks, even add another layer of cement where you think it might be weak. And then, when you get a chance, you go out an buy a few more bricks and make the wall thicker and taller. And it’s just this ongoing process where you make sure that no one sees you.

Which… I don’t even think you see you. Actually, I know you don’t. Because you choose to see the you other people see in you.

Ha.

Not me. Other people.

Because you never believed any of what I told you.

Oh, what did I tell him? When he asked why I had ever been friends with you?

I told him he never saw the you that I did. He didn’t see the way you talked to me. The way you cared for me. The way you were literally there for me whenever I needed you. I told him about the time when, at four in the morning, you were begging me to come outside to talk because you knew how badly I felt. Because you knew how much pain I was in and you knew I needed to talk about it.

I told him he didn’t actually see you.

Missing you.

-Melissa

Positive.

Occasionally, I do my part in scrolling through Pinterest. And, by ‘occasionally,’ I clearly mean a lot. Probably too much. My favorite category is quotes. I like words. I adore the fact that only 26 letters can make so many words that can be arranged in an infinite number of ways and you can make them say whatever you want.

It’s funny how, even with all the possibilities, we can often find ourselves at a loss. But that’s beside the point.

The point is, in a lot of the quotes lately there seems to be this theme of ‘if you’re positive, life will be positive.’ Yeah, I know. Apparently all you have to do is think happy thoughts and then you’ll be happy.

Wish someone would have told me sooner!

The problem is that this only works for a little while. I mean, maybe for you it works all the time. But for the rest of us… It seems like a bit of wishful thinking with a lot left to be desired. When my mind gets on a train of negative thought, it is almost impossible to derail. The pressure to think positively either pisses me off or weighs me with a guilt I can’t readily escape from. Even when I can get myself to be a bit more positive, it almost just upsets me more because I feel fake.

And what about those that deal with severe depression? Do you really think that telling them to have more happy thoughts will make them happy? There’s no way!

Sure, thinking more positively can have a positive effect on us but to say that it will change our life is just a lie. I’m all for embracing true joy and being grateful for all you have but I also have to take everything else I to account. We were given the ability to have emotion. Being happy all the time can often be a masking of all of the emotion that we have deemed unpleasant.

I know I’m ranting, and for that, I apologize. I just… If I had depression and I kept seeing posts about how if I wanted to be happy, I would just do it, I think I would just feel worse.

And I just don’t want anyone to feel worse.

-Melissa

Pieces.

I felt like all of the energy I ever had had left me. I walked through the hallway, coat in hand, almost dragging on the floor. I felt heavy and worn out. This week had been so long and this day, even longer.

My friend saw me and slowed down. Our eyes met and I could tell by the look he gave me that all the emotions I was feeling were very clearly displayed across my face. In mutual understanding, as we got closer to each other, he opened his arms and engulfed me. For a brief moment, I rested there, my head against his chest.

“Are you going to smile today?” he asked as he released me.

“Have I not been smiling lately?” I asked looking up at him. I couldn’t remember if I actually had been in a good mood the last few times he had seen me. He responded saying that I had, I just didn’t look like I was going to today. I don’t remember what I said or what he said as we walked away. That doesn’t really matter though.

What matters is his kindness. It’s the soft way he looked at me. The gentle way he treated me when I could not have handled anything else.

This is why I appreciate my friends so much. It’s why I put so much value in friendships, why I cherish them the way I do. Would I have gotten through yesterday without running into my friend? Well, yes, of course. And did running into him really change the course of my day? No, not really. But it did remind me he cared for me. It did give me a moment of relief I didn’t know I would find. It warmed me and pulled me away from the numbness of my mind for a second.

You know when you just have this feeling that someone you know has a piece of your heart? I love that feeling because it reminds me that my heart is big enough to let everyone I have loved, everyone I love now, and everyone I will love have a piece. And thank the Lord for giving us the ability to love and care for people, for teaching us to love, and for being the very essence of love who loved us first and more than we could ever fathom.

-Melissa

Intimidated.

Laughter filled the room again, mine included. I felt relatively comfortable here. But… not comfortable enough to speak. A lot of people in the room already knew each other. And I… knew no one. Okay, fine, I knew a few people, but not well at all. More of just acquaintance type of relationships.

The problem is over the next few weeks, I will be spending a lot of time with these people and will have to work very closely along side them. I want to get to know them- I really do. They are all really cool and are all very nice. But I can’t… talk to them.

I grew up pretty shy. For the most part, I’m able to shake that off and leave it behind, but at times like this, it catches up to me. It holds me back. I’m really nervous that I’ll stay hidden inside my shell and not form any of these relationships that could be so great and could last so much longer than these next few weeks.

And I don’t know what it is. Am I intimidated by the people around me? That could be it I guess. If I am, why am I?

How do I move beyond myself? How do I become comfortable enough to let people get to know me instead of just getting to know them? And can I really get to know them if I don’t allow them to get to know me? And will my fear and stress of wanting to get to know them backfire and ruin my chances?

Does any of this make sense?

-Melissa