I Have To Learn

I have always lived inside of myself. For as long as I can remember, it was the safest place to be. I stayed to myself, read books, took walks alone, explored alone. I've never been good at making friends. People look at me and something about me always seemed to make them draw back and scowl at me. I was gangly and homely, I know, but looking back  I wasn't the only one. So what was wrong with me? What was it about me that kept people from thinking of me as someone to befriend instead of  someone to use. I don't know. Well, in any case, I learned to be alone. I wasn't a happy child. I began writing notes about my hurt and anger to myself because the response from my mother (God rest her soul) was, "They're just jealous. Just remember sticks and stones may break my bones, but names will never harm me." If I still cried she became frustrated. I guess because she didn't know what else to do or say.

My notes soon turned into little poems written in my bible. As I grew older i started using my school paper and shoving them into my notebook after I wrote them so no one would see. Never let anyone read them. I did once and my father told me it was useless because I could never earn a living writing poetry.He didn't understand that it wasn't about money. It was about what I felt. Not even my mother understood. She didn't understand until I was grown and moving from home.She cried too, when she realized. It was a sad day and a happy one all at once. My mother finally understood, but it broke her heart that she had failed to see me as I was.

I never wrote anything happy. Everything I wrote was pained and hurting. Everything I imagined was born of my lonliness. Everything I did write that was happy was a lie written from my imagination because someone requested that I do for them. As it happened, was "discovered" by my peers in my senior year of high school as being a poet. The same peers who ostresized me, now wanted to know me. It was disappointing for me, but I did as they asked. I was a reluctant star for six months. My one true friend stood by me making sure I wasn't hurt.

Now, I want to write to be happy, but I also want to write things that are happy in nature. My nature. Not someone else's. I found happiness in my life and I lost it again. I want to relate that part of me now. I have to learn that. I've written such sad things for so long. Now I want to write something happy.

theredlady theredlady
41-45, F
3 Responses Mar 13, 2010

LOLOL Ezz! Where have you been!? Ignore me...... hurt my feelings...... *sobs*

Not too different Naomi. I was an "Army Brat" until I was nine. After that we moved for other reasons. It's difficult no matter what family style you are raised in,when there is a certain amount of instability. It's how we use that when we are grown that makes all the difference. I credit my faith in God for keeping me strong and the love of my husband and children.<br />
It is good to see you again Naomi. I hope you are well.

A million hugs for you and your loneliness<br />
<br />
I experienced a different childhood. Alone and lonely because I travelled with my family. Dad worked in foreign countries for a year or more at a time. I was seen as a *novelity* at school. The girl with the strange accent.<br />
<br />
I grew up loving books, long walks in any natural setting to escape *the culture* i was transplanted