April 12, 2011

Definitions.

From the murky depths of a just-thawed lake,
my soul pours.
It tumbles through the filth, and the whole time,
it's saying "I'm fourteen years old, and most days I'm
just trying to be me."

Me.

It's a funny word, because it's all one that
we have in our vocabulary, but it can't be put in
a dictionary.
Who's to say what the definition of me is, if I don't even know
my own definition?

You.

That's a much easier word to ponder.
I can say much more about you.

But I've known Me for as long as I can remember,
so why on Earth would I have a definition for You but not
one for Me?

Me.

Well, I know that when I was little, I wanted nothing
more than to be an Astronaut.
I wanted to wear the moon boots and be the first lady
ever to press my foot into the moon dust and the stardust;
even be the first to touch the garbage dust floating around out there.
To sail past the sun, non-existent winds whispering me forth,
God's finger on my back.
Never could I have guessed that
I would never be able to do that.

When I was little, I just KNEW that Prince Charming
was out there.
He rode a white horse and he was a night in shining armor,
protecting me,
the finest maiden in all the land.
Never could I have guessed
that I would have to
steal his sword, take his armor, and flee on his
white horse...
all to protect myself.

When I was little, I laughed a little more and
when I did, it was a Hell of a lot easier.
When the sun was in the sky, it wore sunglasses,
you could sing a song to make the rain go
away,
and babies only came when
"a mommy and daddy love each other very much."
I never could have guessed that the sun is just an
explosion, the
rain is just a cycle, and
a mommy and daddy don't even have to know each other
to make a baby.

When I was little, a soldier's gun was a
far-off thing. I knew
that it rang like a doorbell, but when people
answered, they didn't walk again.
I never could have guessed that a soldier's gun
could be heard around the world,
to my back yard,
the doorbell ringing on my friend.

And when I was little,
death was a big scary thing that only happened in
the movies. And when it did,
everything was okay by the time
"The End" rolled around.
It wasn't a big problem, just a minor inconvenience.
And now I'm just a maze, a series
of layers, if you will.
You can,
I CAN
try to pry open a door,
go down to the next level,
get to the core but something locks every time,
something just doesn't rhyme with the sound
of the universe and the beat of my
heart.

They say to me, YOU are weird.
YOU will never succeed.
YOU are not worth it.
YOU are NOTHING.
YOU, try not to keep living because you will be a

failure.

There's a key inside me,
underneath that murky just-thawed lake,
screaming for me, me only.
Wanting to be found.
Not by you.
Me.

All the Me's are You's and all the You's are Me's
so somebody please tell me why the definition isn't the same?

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