An old piece
I went though my game trunk the other day. It's exactly what it sounds like: a huge ass trunk full of RPG books, papers, characters, my collection of GM notes, everything except the dice-- those are in a dice bag, in a box in my room. I was looking for something I'd put together a long time ago for Shadowrun, and found a notebook some random scribbles in it.
I do that, occasionally, and then years later I find those scribbles, and the majority of the time I throw them away, recycling the paper, and being glad that I found them again. "See how far I've come," I think, "how much better I write, or how much better my state of mind is".
On the rare occasion that I decide to keep the scribbles I just tuck them back away. I don't like to share them, because they're often just a half an inch short of a journal entry. This one, though, I thought I'd share.
You will need a little back story, though:
My ex was abusive, angry and menacing; he was one person to our friends, and another to me and my kids. He hated the fact that I wrote, and was good at it. He wanted a perfect little Suzy-Homemaker and Mattress Hole. That's all. If he wanted my opinion, he'd tell me what it was. Of course, things weren't always bad-- but over time he beat me down so much that I just wasn't me any more. When I finally broke free, and we were separated, divorcing, apart, I felt like I had escaped. I also felt like I was meeting myself all over again. This piece is a journal I had to write for an English class (I think it was probably my Literary Interpretation class, but I'm not positive), and I kept it, because it meant a lot to me. I felt like I was writing something deeply important to me-- and deeply insightful to myself. "Damn, this is what I missed!" I thought.
Some times, we need to remember who we are. That's what this is, and I thought you might enjoy it, too. It was originally written in mid 2006.
-------------------------
She caught my eye; she always does that, no matter where I see her and I see her in some bizarre places! Her bright blue eyes reflect the unforgiving florescent lights and she smiles when she knows she has my attention, her dimples floating.
"Where have you been?" I ask eagerly, marvelling at her apparent youth-- knowing she was closer to 30 than 20, but some how she looked years younger.
"I've been here, all along," she chided me.
"I couldn't find you! You disappeared." I felt the darkness of depression gathering around me.
"You know where I am now," she said softly.
I nodded. "Are we still apart? Do we have to stay that way?"
"No, I don't think we are. I think we're closer than we were."
She laughed, soft laughter, like a child's-- ready and so full of happiness. I always loved her laugh. Always felt happy hearing it, feeling the silver glimmer fill the air.
I knew her a decade ago-- lost her soon after. Ran into her, in the strangest places. Wanted to be near her, crawl inside her Be her!
Slowly, over the last few months, I saw her more and more. Talking to her, getting to know her all over again. The light-hearted, happy, pretty girl from my past-- the smart, confident, independent girl; the best qualities any friend could have, and none of the bad ones.
My reflection shifted back and again I looked at myself-- 10 years older, and something wiser. But I smiled, seeing our eyes twinkle, knowing I'd found myself-- Fully, and was happy to be there.
I do that, occasionally, and then years later I find those scribbles, and the majority of the time I throw them away, recycling the paper, and being glad that I found them again. "See how far I've come," I think, "how much better I write, or how much better my state of mind is".
On the rare occasion that I decide to keep the scribbles I just tuck them back away. I don't like to share them, because they're often just a half an inch short of a journal entry. This one, though, I thought I'd share.
You will need a little back story, though:
My ex was abusive, angry and menacing; he was one person to our friends, and another to me and my kids. He hated the fact that I wrote, and was good at it. He wanted a perfect little Suzy-Homemaker and Mattress Hole. That's all. If he wanted my opinion, he'd tell me what it was. Of course, things weren't always bad-- but over time he beat me down so much that I just wasn't me any more. When I finally broke free, and we were separated, divorcing, apart, I felt like I had escaped. I also felt like I was meeting myself all over again. This piece is a journal I had to write for an English class (I think it was probably my Literary Interpretation class, but I'm not positive), and I kept it, because it meant a lot to me. I felt like I was writing something deeply important to me-- and deeply insightful to myself. "Damn, this is what I missed!" I thought.
Some times, we need to remember who we are. That's what this is, and I thought you might enjoy it, too. It was originally written in mid 2006.
-------------------------
She caught my eye; she always does that, no matter where I see her and I see her in some bizarre places! Her bright blue eyes reflect the unforgiving florescent lights and she smiles when she knows she has my attention, her dimples floating.
"Where have you been?" I ask eagerly, marvelling at her apparent youth-- knowing she was closer to 30 than 20, but some how she looked years younger.
"I've been here, all along," she chided me.
"I couldn't find you! You disappeared." I felt the darkness of depression gathering around me.
"You know where I am now," she said softly.
I nodded. "Are we still apart? Do we have to stay that way?"
"No, I don't think we are. I think we're closer than we were."
She laughed, soft laughter, like a child's-- ready and so full of happiness. I always loved her laugh. Always felt happy hearing it, feeling the silver glimmer fill the air.
I knew her a decade ago-- lost her soon after. Ran into her, in the strangest places. Wanted to be near her, crawl inside her Be her!
Slowly, over the last few months, I saw her more and more. Talking to her, getting to know her all over again. The light-hearted, happy, pretty girl from my past-- the smart, confident, independent girl; the best qualities any friend could have, and none of the bad ones.
My reflection shifted back and again I looked at myself-- 10 years older, and something wiser. But I smiled, seeing our eyes twinkle, knowing I'd found myself-- Fully, and was happy to be there.
Comments
Post a Comment