Guest writer. My favorite poet and thrift store buddy. My baby wrote this. She hates that I don’t use punctuation. Some of you have not seen this yet. It was written by my 15 year old daughter. My kids are so cool.
Alone – For ages, no one there to hold you when your are sad
You are different
People don’t understand you
Do they even try
My brain is different
Though many think I am
Outgoing
Funny
Weird
It is all but a mask
I think that if I am loud and energetic
People will want to be around me
That they will like me
I do this so I don’t have to be alone
The funny part is
I think I want company
That I want a liking to radiate and surround me like smoke
But then, I think of it further and I decide
I do not want it
I decide that it does not make me feel accompanied
But in fact more alone
It makes me feel a sense of aloneness
No one I have met is quite like me
What I mean by this is that I like to write, and listen to classical pianists play
Sometimes the notes I hear rush from the piano
Stealing tears from my eyes
Sadly I do not know what causes the wet drops that birth from my eyes
Believe me, I wish I did
Is it that their playing is so beautiful that I ooze jealousy
Or is it that I relate with the music
Maybe it is that with each note I hear a different emotion erupting from my soul
A new thought, memory, daydream
No one feels this way as far as I am aware
And it saddens me greatly
I like to think that I am normal, just like everyone else
But I can not lie, especially to my self
I like to look at my paintings
I have tried to paint, but alas, I am no good
Even though I am handicapped by the actual action of painting I can still gaze upon the beauty of Van Gogh
Who at this very moment is my favorite artist
The way his paintings mesh so perfectly together, and not one stroke looks out of place
His attention to detail is impeccable
And inspires me daily
Not only are his paintings appealing to me
So is his darkness
He was a sad man, suicidal
But through his darkness a light was shone, his art
He took his darkness and poured it out on to a bare canvas making light
When I think of Van Gogh I feel not alone
I feel like we are, in some odd way, alike
Although I have not found my light like he, his paintings
I have faith I will one day
I am like Van Gogh
We are alone together
I like photographs of my family, of my friends, of strangers
I prefer old photos
As I feel they have more history behind them
But new ones are OK I suppose
Pictures of happy people, feelings of love and warmth
Pictures of people laughing, I love them all
But sad ones I would have to say are my favorites
I feel happy gets old
But sad – When you see a sad picture you get the opportunity to ask yourself why, what happened
I find that interesting
I feel not alone when I see those photos
The sad looking pictures are like me
We relate
I am like the photos
We are alone
Together
Scary movies also intrigue me
The characters in them are also scared and confused
Looking for a way out just like I am
I am like the characters
We are alone together
Although people may be like me
I am still alone
And so is everyone else
We are alone together