I want to know you
Like I want to be known
I want to feel you
Like I want to be felt
I want you to love me
The way that I love you
I need you hear me
Like I hear you
I don't want to be left alone
All alone, outside in the cold
left by myself with you
Not in my arms

I would like to know your mind.
Do you think in puzzles and rhymes?

I would like to know your heart.
Does it skip a beat in its gossamer sheath?

I would like to know your love.
When you close your eyes can you see me in your arms?

I would like to know your body
Slipping effortlessly into mine.

I wish you could read my mind

The hours spent in numbing cruel silence; pacing the gaumy floor of resistance

I wish you could see my mind

The brutish gloom that seeps into your soul during a nightmare, those are my daydreams

I wish you could hear my mind

The mournful call in the bleak wintry landscape; frozen and crackly

I wish you could live in my mind

Fearful of the labyrinth, no end in sight, the roar of the hungry beast waiting impatiently to rip your beating heart from your chest....you scream.

I wish.....I wish....wish....

Sitting in silence

I sit here. In silence. In the dark. I make no noise. I wake no one. I disturb no pet. I am an entity left alone. I break no hearts. I make no misery. I am not cheeky, rash, nor belligerent. I peacefully sit in my bed. I have my guard down. I am simply here. 

This is my nightly ritual. Alone. I listen to dogs snore, creaks in the house, the air purifier sucking and blowing air. I do this every night. 

Do I like it? Not particularly. I long for rich conversations while lying in bed. This never happens. My expectations lead me to misery. I walk myself into the room of despair. No one takes me. I go there alone and willing. I don't like it there, yet, I go again and again. I have jumped on huge hamster wheel and have not figured out how to jump off or how to get someone to join me in the sprint, 

It's been a long silent life. An only child then married a man that doesn't speak. It's quiet and lonely. The expectations keep me walking to the room of despair. I believe this time will be different.

I know my biggest hurdle is the fact I don't know what I want out of life. Ok, I want simple things. I want to be healthy, active, and happy. I want the same for my kids. My goals feel emaciated. They need more meat, but what? 

I sit in this moment thinking about what it is I want out of life. My children are growing older and needing my assistance less and less. This leaves a void because my husband has never been the talker/sharer I desire. It is what it is and I have to decide my plan of action. Until then I will sit here. In the dark. In silence. Alone. 

Grief

Sometimes the grief hits you like a brick  to the temple when you're in the middle of a belly laugh.

I see my mom, in my minds eye, lying there in my living room dying. As if that wasn't bad enough my brain decides too be a real douche-bag and I get to relive more horrors. My pets dying, my grandma yelling in pain and dying, the lady that got electrocuted and I stood there watching paramedics try and revive her with the paddles (years later the family pulled the plug).

Those moments flash back and stop me. They stop my joy. They stop the laughter.

I will never be that person I was the day that woman died in front of me next to the carousel.
I'll never be that person that I was the day before my grandma died in my arms.
I'll never be that person I was the moment before my mother slowly and painfully died in my living room.

No, I cannot be that person. I've made peace with that. I'd like to know who I am now? I'd like to know how to heal from those experiences. I'd like to be me, whatever or whoever that is today.

Being woman

Pluck your eyebrows, wear make-up, don't wear that color, don't wear those shoes, put on a bra,  wear glasses it makes you look better, you'd be so pretty if you'd lose weight.... 

The comments about what I should and should not do with my body is endless. Well meaning sentiments by other women that think they are helping me are only tearing me down. Bit by bit, little chink here and a big chunk there. 

Then come the men. Oh, the men! They think they own you. You are property. An extension, a rib piece, of themselves. So indoctrinated in this belief that they can't even see it when they do or say something. They, not all but big majority, are clueless. 

Add this on to the fact that society as a whole are ok with the misogynic behavior. Much of it they don't see as being that. It's traditional behaviors that are so ingrained it's considered normal. 

It's exhausting being a woman. Men send you pictures of their dicks, get mad when you say you're not interested, women cut you down to the bone with a helpful unsolicited suggestion. You get paid less, you work more, you have to prove your worth, you have to bear the brunt of raising the children alone or mostly alone.... Then we are expected to open our legs and let men take our souls and use it for their pleasure with no regard about how we feel. 

All the while you do this with quiet rebelling. You refuse sex even though you are horny, you refuse to clean, make dinner, and sign many petitions in your favor to change laws that are against you. You raise boys to think differently. It has to get better, right?

Not fitting in is nothing new.

I don't fit in. I have no slot. I'm not a square peg that is trying to fit a round hole, nope, I'm a polyhedron trying to squeeze through a chink in the wall. I never really understood how different I am to the rest of huge population until now. It's not easy to make friends when your life doesn't look like anybody else's life, ever. 

At times it hurts not to be like everybody else. I couldn't try if I wanted because I honestly don't know how I'm different enough not to fit until I start talking to someone. At some point in the conversation I've discovered we've not been talking about the same things. My brain interprets life differently. I know this now. Having this knowledge doesn't help me at all. Just being aware isn't enough. It bothers me. I don't know how to make friends, how to have "normal" conversations, or how to understand people at times. I know it's dyslexia, for the most part, but the rest is my interests in life and the lack of career. Not to mention I'm very guarded. I was bullied in school, badly. I was bullied in the family, got to love asshole cousins and grandparents that think he can do no wrong and thinking I was lying. Flip side, I was treated like a baby for years past actually being a baby. I don't have many find happy childhood memories. There was always fighting. Fighting at home, cousins fighting me, extended family fighting, fighting at school; fighting never seemed to cease. Add on to the fact I was a daydreamer. My thoughts drifted away upon someone speaking. I became hypnotized by people talking. I can't focus on spoken words. I hear cadence, tone, feeling, and accent. I am swooned by perfect voices, not their words but their essence.  I like the noise of spoken words but I don't gather much in the way of content. This makes being with people hard. My responses are based of something I thought they said and, well, this makes people think I'm weird. 

I'm half way to 40. Life isn't easier now than it was when I was a kid. Oh, sure, less fighting. Fewer bullies in my life. I don't talk to my cousin anymore, by the way he is still an asshole too much of the time.  

I have no point to this blog, never really are points, I'm afraid. I just hate being the odd duck all the time. I can't look at someone young and in my position and say, "it gets better." It doesn't really get better it just only gets different. I'm still the same person. The same awkward person that would like to fit in but doesn't have the ability to fit in. This polyhedron would really like to find other polyhedrons to hang out with while we talk about that chink in the wall.