Paranoia: Everybody's Coming To Get Me
I got a job.
And I am even afraid of my boss.
One of the nicest men I have met...
and he doesnt know I am deathly afraid of him.
I flinch whenever her calls my name
or touches my shoulder
...he doesnt know...
and I feel extremely abnormal
as well as a trespassor in this conventional world.
Although I am some what away
I feel like he is everywhere, breathing down my neck.
When I walk in the city I expect him to be in front of me
holding my hand
telling me when to move.
I still find myself awake at night
in the corner or in the closet
covering my ears and squeezing my eyes shut.
I never sleep.
I work in a bookstore.
It is a hole in the wall, and I love it.
I read all day long.
I love the smell of old books.
I feel as if I live in them,
as if I live on, inside and throughout the pages
like I am the stories.
Books...everywhere books.
A book is like a box
and a box has six sides:
inside and outside.
Once upon a time there was a girl who lived in a box
and everyone loved her.
They stared, they watched her suffocate while they poked and prodded her through the tiny, tiny breathing holes.
This is 'freedom?'
How many days can be left?
For most of you..who read these and hope that this is just a fabrication,
a continuous nightmare that I have or just
creativity flowing out of my fingertips...
Let me tell you a secret of mine:
Apologies but
I dont write fiction.
I'm not that talented.
And I am even afraid of my boss.
One of the nicest men I have met...
and he doesnt know I am deathly afraid of him.
I flinch whenever her calls my name
or touches my shoulder
...he doesnt know...
and I feel extremely abnormal
as well as a trespassor in this conventional world.
Although I am some what away
I feel like he is everywhere, breathing down my neck.
When I walk in the city I expect him to be in front of me
holding my hand
telling me when to move.
I still find myself awake at night
in the corner or in the closet
covering my ears and squeezing my eyes shut.
I never sleep.
I work in a bookstore.
It is a hole in the wall, and I love it.
I read all day long.
I love the smell of old books.
I feel as if I live in them,
as if I live on, inside and throughout the pages
like I am the stories.
Books...everywhere books.
A book is like a box
and a box has six sides:
inside and outside.
Once upon a time there was a girl who lived in a box
and everyone loved her.
They stared, they watched her suffocate while they poked and prodded her through the tiny, tiny breathing holes.
This is 'freedom?'
How many days can be left?
For most of you..who read these and hope that this is just a fabrication,
a continuous nightmare that I have or just
creativity flowing out of my fingertips...
Let me tell you a secret of mine:
Apologies but
I dont write fiction.
I'm not that talented.
posted by Ischelle at 6.12.06
7 Comments:
This part will stick with me
Once upon a time there was a girl who lived in a box
and everyone loved her.
Though you can not change what has been, or maybe even forget, you can become someone who overcomes whatever life has burdened you with.
For me, it was not something that happened quickly, my getting free of my demons happened long after everyone else in the world was sure I should be OVER it by now.
But it did happen.
It will happen for you too.
Baby steps, sweet Ischelle. The job sounds like a good first one.
I have to say again that I am so thrilled you are posting again.
Sara
Ischelle, I never thought it was fiction (although I wished it were); I can recognise poetry born of real pain. But you are talented. Only someone with real talent could ever transform the pain into such beauty.
I hope and pray your bookstore will be a place of healing for you. If it is not, then I hope and pray you will find the strength to move on and find a place where you can heal.
Sara is right. Even when everyone else thinks you should be healed, you may not be, but one day it will happen.
Hi again,
I added a link to you at my second blog, The Shores of my Dreams. It is for my poetry.
http://shewritespoetry.blogspot.com/
I pray all is well with you today.
Sara
Hi Ischelle,
Caught you over at Sara's blog-the newer one aparantly. I would say something stupid like I know where you're coming from, but I dont. My sister is farily paranoid and I have my share of mental illness, but I've never felt someone breathing down my neck. I am a mental health counselor, but unqualified to talk here. I just like to listen. I think I cheated cause I read the end first. That made me pay so much more attention to the beginning. This moved me in a way that most writing doesn't. I would only encourage you to keep writing becasue it does cleanse the soul. I hope things get better. You have lots of talent, believe it or not.
Just stopping in to say hi.
Hope all is well in your world today.
You are very talented, Ischelle.
I love your writing.
For all else, your faithful friends are here holding your precious hand.
(((Ischelle))))
hey i have linked you in my blog, i hope you are cool with that.
:)
N
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