reign of terror from a child's mouth

So here’s the problem.

You’ve been training for pain management since you were fourteen and learning how to express your feelings in new ways. Technological advances like razors and parker pen clips on the back of a yellow school bus.

But you’ve graduated since then. Twice. You’ve moved on. You’re not angry, you’re not pained to the bone anymore. You’ve hooked, pulled, smoked a little pot, accomplished a few minor dreams.

You are… Independent

You’re not angry. You’re not resentful. You’re not forbidden and you’re not innocent. You’re nobody’s fool and you’re everybody’s chance.

You’re not settled and you’re not committed and you’re not going to be here for much longer.

You’re happy but it’s just you that is happy and what is that good for when there are at least four people around you that really do care about you?

You’re satisfied with your new attitude but no one else is and there are at least seven people nearby who are wondering about you.

You’re in a state of bliss but on both your hands your beginning to realize you need more fingers to count the people who are starting to feel they’ve lost you.

But you’re happy.


My dad said the reason my neck and upper back went stiff in the last few days is because I have not expressed my feelings or stress related to the move and so it has converted from mental energy to physical energy and has collected in this area creating knots of pain. If I could only express the stress in other ways, says dad, the torturous back pain would dissolve.

Can I express stress I don’t feel? Can I say what I don’t feel?

Maybe it’s tucked away somewhere besides my upper back?

I thought maybe if I rant to Microsoft Word for a bit it would eventually come out.

I haven’t cried in three months. I haven’t been with a guy in three months. I haven’t harbored negative attitudes in three months.

I’ve been… happy… for three months.

I’ve been single, proud, excited, positive, outstanding, productive.

Apparently, the people who want me to be happy aren’t happy with this.

They want feelings. Sigh. Feelings only get us in trouble.

Expectations lead to disappointment. Expectations lead to disappointment. Expectations lead to disappointment.

Mantra – mantra – mantra.

Drama is the creation of alternate reality in order to avoid dealing with your own self.

I’ll never go back there. This is the new improved laid back Liz supreme (for 55 more cents, you get a liter of Coke).

And suddenly, a soft wind blows past my ear and whispers in tongues, ‘you’re leaving your loved ones behind…’

I tilt my head to catch the wave and suddenly my surfboard is 100 feet away and I’m doggy paddling to shore. With a week and half till I leave, you want to pop my bubble? Or create one?

Well, I’m not crying yet and my back still hurts.

Good night, lovers.






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