Have I lived well? That’s the question I’m asking myself as I sift through these boxes, dusting off old photographs of people I haven’t seen in years, and birthday cards inscribed with messages, which boldly say we’ll forever be friends. The truth is we’re just not that close anymore.
Did I spend my time the right way? I ponder as I discard old essays which I don’t remember writing, and postcards and trinkets from countries I’m sure I’ve never visited; souvenirs of experiences which have no bearing on my own. I suppose they were once worth keeping but now they will be lining a black bag.
Is this what my life amounts to? I ask as I pull an ancient phone and a physics exercise book out of a warped brown box and I remember the way I flunked that exam. And I recall the fight I had over the phone causing my first relationship to crumble shortly after. A feeling of failure washes over me.
It must be such hard work having to be that person all the time.
Constantly pushing out that same image,
Not letting it slip for one second.
Because people look to you to be that way.
You have a following.
And you can’t let them down.
No, you won’t let them down.
But is it really you?
Or just an image you’ve created of yourself?
An image people like,
You liked once.
But now it’s exhausting.
Aren’t you a bit tired?
What if you put it down?
That’s it, stop for just a minute.
Take a step back,
OK now start again.
But this time:
Don’t be anybody else –
Just be you.
As a soldier returned from war I am wounded.
Not by weapons nor explosions,
But your words have wounded me,
In a way only those closest to me can see.
You took the place of God,
When you used your power to pull the rug
Out from underneath my once steady feet,
And the house from over my head as well.Read More →
Look in the mirror,
What do you see?
Imperfection before perfection,
The wounds from the battle field
marking your face,
The haggard life
of a once beautiful wife,
Tear after tear stained eyes,
where they shouldn’t be,
for someone so young.Read More →