Hello all you masters of words, as I sit here listening to my playlist from the 80’s feeling nostalgic, I find myself longing for the good old times. Missing old buddies, one particular friend comes to mind. She is one of my champions, who encouraged me to continue writing. She and I go way back. I can still see her waiting for me up on the Blvd (Hollywood Blvd) at our spot, planning our ditch day. I recently found two of my diaries realizing that one of the diaries is solely about her and our adventures together. True to form most of the crew we hung out with all but disappeared, not true with her. We kept in touch making our bond stronger. Her story of courage has inspired me to write this blog. This blog post is dedicated to my dear friend Beth.
The power of Red fills my head with hatred and dread. Unlike the color of azul a Noble blue that binds the soul with peace. It’s not Red’s fault, she’s always been this way. Red is trying not to be so negative, so envy of her friend Noble Blue. According to plan, Red path is sealed with a kiss. Alone in her convictions, Red stands alone on the banks of Crossroads Benny beach waiting for a chance to make a new path to enlightenment. Off in the distant bobbing in the water, bottle but not any bottle. This bottle came a long way containing a message from an old friend. This friend message reads; “Hear these words, Red you’re not as hateful or dreadful. Even the coldest of hearts can be undone. Through these inspirational thoughts of love, compassion, empathy and respect can be represented in the hearts of the cold. It’s never too late for change and growth.”
Love your friend Noble Blue.”
Red with a heavy heart gives way to a warm embrace of this message of encouragement. She wears like a dawn’s comforter, smiling in glee for even the harden of hearts wants to be loved. The life story of Red doesn’t end at the banks of Crossroads Benny, if Red can learn the lesson and embrace change so can we.
This short story is inspired by the color Red and what it represent. Some see Red as a negative, I choose to see Red in all it’s beauty.
Today I am feeling lower than I can possibly go. It’s shows. My emotions are compromised and my strength my armor is slowly being chipped away. With every frown or crossed stare I get from the powers to be, a crack appears on my armor. If I stay here in this space, I fear there won’t be anything left. It’s like that situation where you’re in a crowded room enjoying the scene then that evil force walks in sucking all the air and life out that’s how the current work space is. Here it’s quite clear we all play by a different set of rules. I should know this by now. Naivety I hoped things would get better but with each inopportune moment is a slap in the face. Yes they talk a good game but the truth is there’s no room for growth well if you are me in my position. With all my experience the only thing I am good for is to sit here answering the few calls that comes through.
I don’t know where I am in the grand scheme of things. My head feels like a merry-go-round spinning in circles a never-ending circle. I want to stop, I need to stop but I can won’t you help me. Everything hurts, every words, laugh and cry is painful too sensitive to act too sad to be happy I need love to light the way. I am a prisoner to this fate bleak drowning deeper into the sea of void sinking lower than Moby Dick’s occupants. Not lacking in faith, wishing for a band-aid to cover the scab I’m slowing picking at, screaming in a crowded room with no one looking up not evening giving a glance I’m here with this demon. A constant companion these days speaks to me in ways no one can comprehend. Scared no, just concerned that my mind is no longer my own. Fighting the good fight staying above water in the hopes that one day this dynamic dance will be done.
Uncontrollable thoughts I have many of them. I’m a manic-depressive, what do you expect. These thoughts seem to come out of nowhere causing great distress. I find myself at the of the pen staring at pages of lists I created out of nowhere and for no apparent reasons. It’s quite stressful trying to organize my chaotic thoughts. My pattern is always the same which I found to be strangely ironic. I will start an idea write it down spend time on it then lose interest. When I go back I feel there’s nothing to go back too just a bunch of blah, blah. Sometimes I can’t keep things straight. I feel like my head is a cork-board filled with thousands post-it-notes. Every note is a piece of a puzzle I’m trying to put together. Once the puzzle is complete I now have to find away to express these thoughts to the outside world in away that is healthy. The stress is unbearable I’m thrown into a world that is dark with no light at the end of the tunnel. All my thoughts are lost in the sea of nameless void prompting me to start all over. I really need to STOP and PAUSE because this adds to my stress level and heavens knows we do not need anything else adding to the state of confusion I already feel.
A world without your love is the world I find myself dwelling in. The lights were turned off when you closed your eyes forever. Alone here in the darkness I wait for you in my dreams. In anticipation seeing your beautiful face. Longing to hear your soft voice whisper those beautiful three words “I Love You”. I live in this world cold cruel and dead without your kind touch, without your encouragement. I don’t want to stay in this world without you anymore. I want to be where you are, dancing in your light. I want to stay in this light embraced in your loving arms within your unconditional love only a mother can give.
This short is inspired by my Mother who was special tough lady. Every year on my birthday she would say “And what does this St. Patty Day girl want for birthday dinner?” The answer is always the same; fried chicken, mashed potatoes, string beans and yellow cake with chocolate icing. Wanting and getting are two different things in our household. I always ended up getting corn beef, cabbage, cornbread and Carmel cake. My mother knew I’m not a fan of corn beef and cabbage. I use to get so angry with her but now I wish I could have that dinner one more time with her smile. My mother who bravery is unmatched. Who had the courage to stand tall in a world that try to make her small. She’s one of a kind.
I sit here in my favorite red chair drinking my blueberry coffee from my favorite cup staring out the open window as the cool breeze hit my face, my thoughts speaking to me what seem to be in foreign languages. Trying to control and pin down my thinking is a process that is hard especially when my thoughts are all over the place. Sometimes I fear I’m losing grip on reality my mind is playing the ultimate role head-lining act of some cornball carnival,the main attraction of some freakish side-show.
“Ladies and Gents step right up to this here attraction watch how this manic-depressive handles a meltdown.“
Today I’m feeling a bit blah. Not sad but not quite happy either. I’m in between the two. I call this stage of my manic depression “the blah factor.” It’s a numbing feeling. I don’t care about things as much as I should when I visit this stage. Having a mental disorder you’re on a constant roller coast ride up and down back and forth its rare your able to get off.
Today is Wed a hump day which is generally my favorite day of the week simply because I can say “Hump Day” and no one will get offended. Today been a busy day at my paying job. Looking around the office I noticing the colors a bright yellow, pink & green which is all good colors good sign and I wouldn’t have it any other way.
Remember when you held my hand as we rode the scary rollercoaster all day by the seashore. Screaming indulging in fun partying in the light. Oh do you remember when we crashed your sister’s birthday party bouncing around like two kids on a treasure hunt. Remember when I held your hair back when you were drunk. Remember when I hugged you when you got dumped. Remember when I did your homework so you can make out with that biker guy. Remember that expensive shopping trip we took celebrating your promotion.