ANTHOLOGY OF A GIRL WITH NO NAME

Words have the ability to take you to your souls resting place.

It All Starts With A Thought

1/26/12 2:10 A.M

Awake in the early morning hours once more and with only my thoughts for company I reflect upon my past and ponder my future.

Why is it I’m here, where I am today? How is it that I’m sitting on this bed, in this room with these thoughts?

Does it all come down to some great meaning, some larger than life plan? Have my experiences shaped me for something more than I can currently fathom?

Often I’ve contemplated the intricacies of, “The Cycle of Life;” to live, to learn, to feel and to love.

Does it all break down to science or is there more to life beyond my realm of understanding?

Yes, we are all connected. Even quantum physics says so, but to what extent and why? The how’s and whys seem to go perplexingly unanswered.

Something in me says I stand for something more, something greater - something wonderful. Is it not relative though? And will it matter in the larger scheme of things?

Even as a child I’ve felt as if I’ve lived a thousand lifetimes. Is that possible? Is there some memory in my DNA that allows me to feel this way and if so, to what purpose?

So many unexplained emotions, sensations, and need for something beyond the average life.

I feel it… I always have.

Therefore is it so?  

It seems I have been waiting my whole life for something……

                                    But what?

Dirt Roads Lead To Home

A child falling asleep in the back seat… no worries or care.

Lulled by the familiar twists and turns on the dirt road they instinctively knew led to home.  To family, comfort and security…. Where the hallways reoccurringly echoed with life.

How did I come so far from the comfort of that car ride? How is it that I find myself existing in a world where that ride has now instead become a solo journey throughout life?

Gone is the perpetual bantering of siblings and in its place a radio station to appease the empty silence. 

I once opened our door to warm light and constant household activities.

Now, I simply open my door to quiet darkness.

There is a difference in falling asleep knowing the only breath to be had is your own. It catches in loneliness.

Remember tiptoeing through the house so no one would hear you sneak into the kitchen for a midnight snack?

Now there’s no one to hear your footsteps. No home made meal awaiting your arrival or light scolding to get ready for dinner. Who knows either way…. who cares. Gone are good night kisses or someone to hug when you’re feeling down.

Remember meandering into your sibling’s room just because…. Gossiping and giggling late into the night.

Now they’re more distant than the miles or states that separate you.

Who are they even anymore? I don’t even know… when so long ago we fell asleep together on that well-known drive to that place we all called home.

What is home now but a vague memory of time long gone.

I tentatively reach out in the darkness for a love that will feel like home. But each door is the wrong one… each key the wrong turn and I’m getting so tired and weary.

So, I find myself almost lost and in limbo….not able to fall asleep as that child did in the back seat on a drive down the twists and turns of that familiar dirt road…. 

Take me to that place I used to be
when the world was better than my dreams.

Speeding Down A Lonely Road With Blindfolds On

I walk a lonely road.

I've got no eyes to regulate, no voice to slow me down, no kiss to make me care.

So I'll go the highest speeds and take the sharpest turns. I'll go at life hard and when it gets tough just keep going until exhaustion has it's way with me. This I wait for like a solitary reprieve when transitory peace sets in and sleep takes over. In this land maybe things are different. And maybe it's not. I'm pretty sure I cry even in my dreams but that's life, so I keep going.

I've lost hope that when looking into the eyes of others I would find a response worth recognizing.

And I want to throw this game out the window because it's become quite pathetic really. I've got black books for my black books and love notes falling out of both. And none of it equates to more than momentary distractions. Vague mirages in a dessert of empty promises.

They say you find it when you least expect it. They say, when you stop looking is when it happens. Well I'm at an accelerated speed with blindfolds on down an intersection with broken street lights and it's past time for a change.