Poems & cringeworthy journal entries

Because I have better stuff to do this month ok?

Next month I’m responsible for bringing a few thousand words to a memoir workshop. I’m not going to dig into how terrified I am about that right now, but I do want to tell you that’s why I’m opting for slight change of topic this month.

I have about 40 journals beside my desk that vary in author from 7th grade Coco to last week’s ramblings. I am going to throw a dart at one each week and type, verbatim, a passage. They almost always include poetry, which I “threw away” as a career choice in college after reading what I had written in my life so far, and after meeting some poets.

Anyways, I’m already embarrassed. Names changed for privacy and self-preservation. Here we go, dart thrown and the date is…

Feb 24th, 2004

For context I am eighteen years old in Feb of 2004, and somehow the Vice President of our high school’s Athletic Council - if you know me, this is a hilarious thing. Above is a more accurate photo to my personality, from roughly the same time. It more accurately illustrates how I spent my free time when I wasn’t organizing pep rallies and charity car washes.

I guess you could say that I’ve had a rough childhood, but what exactly makes it rough? An alcoholic parent? Divorce? Depression? A major health deformity? Constant heartbreak? Disappointment? Verbal abuse? Or maybe everyone’s had a rough childhood if, of course, the story is written the right way.

I just had a long talk with dad about everything, and do I mean everything. It started out with my scoliosis. Lead into some health concerns, dabbled in friends, school and boys, and I ended up some really interesting stories and words of advice from him. “Never give up on what you really want, because if you want it bad enough, it will happen.” Not exactly original but it’s amazing how much parents can have faith in you. They’re pretty observant too. He said that by meeting Fionn and Will a couple of times, he could tell that Will is the better person which I completely agree with. He told me I keep the spark of my friends together. I don’t see that at all.

Should I lie til my hair’s content?
Why no spoken words between blood dearest?
And empty stares out in the
cold sunny air
Passing dead trees in this quiet
hush Suburban town

Gentle lips kiss everlasting frown

Play the beats, melody surrounds
this tired body alone on linen
never hair amiss and in the tangle
taste of crimson, hot cinnamon
bled tears only sugar left

Feline ghost in ebony
reflected
The cool clean wind from window
aloft
Cool the tears on my cheek soft
Alone and dressed only to
go nowhere again, then take it off.

Anyways, I have to get up early and go somewhere else I don’t belong. Athletic Council, ugh.

Later Days,

C.

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Thanks friends, I’ll be back next week with more adolescent cringe!