A Letter to the World, that never wrote to me:

it is overcast out side, and windy... grey everywhere, with lots of black birds riding the sky, and it is beautiful.

i am drowning today, much like i have been drowning everyday for every year these past three years... and just like before, i am tired of coming up for air.

the tears fall down my checks tracing their way through my clothes, they are as welcome as spring rain, cool drops passing over my burning skin like drops of mercy on a dessert.

i long to let life slip away, i fantasize the moment in a million scenarios...feeling the last pulse in my vein, hearing the last heart beat in my ear, dropping back into the welcoming arms of dark oblivion.

these past two years some of my closest have gone to its embrace, some willingly, some unexpectedly, and some flinging themselves with abandon over the precipice of life...and how i long to join them.

but life holds me back, the loose ends: bills unpaid, promise unkept, responsibilities, and duties left to be met, and then there are the children, the wife, the loved ones, the ones not so loved but catered to anyway...they are the people, that once that tenuous thread has been wound between two souls it must be mended, maintained, and loved through its existence. they are those soul obligations.

and these alone are the reasons i have not surrendered to the welcoming waves...
these alone are my living points, the duties, the obligations to love and to bills.

i find it ironic that some of the things that save my life are the things that with success in my endeavors would simple not be an issue anymore. It makes me wonder if the reason i have not reached as far as my grasp would take me is because secretly i do not want to let go just yet.

i have the "fondest" memories of always welcoming, always wooing death, and from my childhood seeing it come to everyone else but me.

one by one the ones I loved and knew gone through the fingers of time like small grains of sand...and with every loss my plea, my earnest plea to let me go too...and every time a snub, a brush off, sometimes an earthshaking "NO!"

i am an artist, i paint with my life, each brush stroke an inch of my blood applied to the canvas of this world, blending in with a billion other strokes that overlap and overwhelm my own. i scream, i sing, i speak, trying to be heard above the din, but nothing of significance seems to register on the pages of this world.

When i go, i will leave a paper trail of failed attempts at being heard, but that doesn't bother me as long as the bills are paid, the obligations are met, the promises are kept and loved and unloved ones are fulfilled.


-- dahlia holmes [scurry] 12/03/06 9:04 am