Standing In Silence
When we're in a world that's in constant motion, we need to find time to ourselves, to feel alone once in a while. This feeling doesn't always have to be sad, or angry. Rather, it can be serene, or calming. Being alone allows us to make a hard choice, mull over things.
If you don't believe this, well, I do have one thing to say: who am I to tell you what you could do? After all, this is just from my view. While some may not find my opinion worthwhile or something, I feel like others would take it and find comfort in it.
Being alone may not always be the answer, but it helps somewhat. Thinking things through is a good trait to have - listening to your gut is another.
I guess what I'm saying is that how your feeling is up to you. Controlling one's feelings is hard, but being able to reconcile with them is easier.
I hope you'll be able to be yourself. Your not alone - somebody loves you.
That aside, this piece needs some explaining. This poem was finished around November, but the writing had started around September. Why did it take so long? Well, I was trying my best to emulate some feelings I had, yet I also wanted to keep the structure refined and stuff.
What made write this? Well... I have a hard time even speaking with other people. Even over the internet. Due to this, I couldn't really explain what I was feeling at the moment to anyone. Not even my councelor. So, I tried to stay away from everyone to find out what I was feeling - and because I was afraid of doing something wrong to my friends.
A few weeks later, I started to isolate myself. I wasn't feeling well. I sorta broke once I realized somethig life changing: I was - still am - a selfish bastard. How did I find this out? I only saw what I wanted, I only took what I wanted, and I defined the world by my terms.
This revelation shook me at the core, and I decided to let it all out. I put all of thos emotions and put them in this little poem.
I hope you enjoy it.
I spend time, talking to myself. I say things that I know I wouldn't say. I say things that I feel are not okay. I even think that this other person is me, but I stop, laugh, and say I'm being silly.
Now, I spend time, singing to no one. I sing songs of love, of life, of being done with 'em. I sing alone, where nobody goes. I sing along with a tune nobody knows.
Even though I tell myself I am alright, that I'll do fine, I find myself saying otherwise. I stop, I cry, I scream and shout, "Why must I do this all the time? Why must I feel emotions, and think they are a crime?" I stop, I cry, I fall and dive into a shallow recess.
Through out this whole event, I can feel the rain. It comes in blankets, in sheets, it covers the earth as if it were a bed. I ease into the comfort of the cold, I wrap myself up in water, and feel the world drift away as I become numb to the pain.
What pain? The pain of loving, of laughing, of crying. The pain of losing someone, whether they're leaving, or they're dying. I recede to the rain, I recede to the blankets of cold drops to warm myself up.
After a while, after some hours, I leave this cold bed. I feel like I took a small nap to ease my burning head. My head now cool, now collected, I leave the house to a world that's red. I feel the dawn of a new day, a day filled with things not spoken, not seen, and that's what I dread.
I stay for a while in this red world. I stay, converse, think, and create. I see people, people who talk to guys and girls, who love and hate, who would rather have sex and date and copulate than chat, talk, of feelings that grate a person's plate. That's fine and dandy, but so is talking - or that's what I think of now.
It's when I feel stressed, when I feel overwhelmed, that I retreat into my own world redressed. I wrap myself up, I add water to my wet face, and I sleep, I rest.
It's in the rain. The feeling of freedom. In the rain, I am free. From you, from pain, from love, life, all things sweet. I am free. Free from me, and my cluelessness.