June 9th, 2004

Mrs. Roper

(no subject)

Can't sleep. Can't calm down. A long time ago, writing used to help. But there's so much jumbled inside, so much of it ugly, angry, I'm crying but all I can think to put down on the screen is hateful and unfair. To me, to others.

"You can call in the middle of the night"

yeah, but that was another time, another situation, and the next day, so what did it matter, it was too late, and here it is the middle of the night and I just SO don't believe in that promise.


There really aren't any promises.

When I was little it was so simple. People made promises, people kept promises. If there are uncertainty, I was to "wait and see" but then it all came out okay, cause there was someone there to take care of me.

I'm the caretaker now, and do a damn poor job of it.

"Be nice to yourself" that's easy to say but hard to put into practice.

It hurts to have things planned and then taken away, no asking, just telling, no choices.

All I want is to feel special, cared for, wanted for just me.

The middle of the night sucks. During the day I can at least get TIgger hugs.

That song has it wrong. Childhood isn't where to look. There aren't happily ever afters and if things seem right, the more right they are, the more bleak and devastating it is when they fall apart.


lonely doesn't begin to describe it. Hell, I've been alone so much in this life, I've seeked out space for just myself, I stay up late to have the quiet time... But feeling like I'm not wanted. Feeling like I'm just tolerated, barely at that. Feeling ever increasingly like I shouldn't ask, because it's too much to ask for.

It hurts so much to remember when I could just smile and know things were right and good.

It hurts so much to remember snuggling and touching and not parting no matter who was around.

I remember rolling in the fallen leaves without even thinking whether we could be heard.

I remember learning a song for the first time when it was sung to me, and finding a recording, and writing down the words in a journal and finding the journal years later, and it taking me back to the shore where he sung to me.

I remember being self-confident. Knowing that I was lovable and loved. Feeling the freedom to tease and play. Feeling the security of being loved back.

note to self. When having trouble sleeping, downloading email is NOT A GOOD IDEA.