Flood of Memories

I went to the park today
The one where we used to play
Back when I was young
Before I knew what would become
Of you, of me
What a flood of memories
We once were shaded by that tree
And on that bench there is a picture of you and me
One of my very favorites, it’s true
Oh, how today made me miss you
The pond where the ducks swim
Remember how we used to feed them?
I remembered today.
I miss the way
You held me
I could feel the love you had for me
I could see it in your smile
I still see it in my dreams
Remember how we’d lay in the grass
For hours and just let the time pass
Remember how you’d push me on the swings
Then, I felt like you gave me wings
Now, I know you did
Way back when I was just a kid
You loved me like you loved your own
You took me into your house and made me feel at home
Then, suddenly you were ripped away
One cruel April day
The memories came flooding back today
But they’re never very far away

I’d like you to know

My mom asked me tonight if there was anything I’d like the priest to mention at the funeral. Anything about my Meme that I wanted people to know.

Yeah, there’re a lot of things I’d like you to know.

I’d like you to know:

She used to walk two miles every day. Rain or shine; Snow or blistering hot sun.

She baked me my favorite cake every year for my birthday.

Whenever I slept over she’d pop popcorn in an old fashioned popper and then we’d watch movies until it was bed time.

Then she’d sing me songs until I was tired enough to fall asleep.

She’d sing me another song in the morning when it was time for me to wake up.

She prayed every morning after she did her exercises, and then again after lunch, and right before bed.

The first day I was allowed to wear makeup to school, she walked past me at the bus stop and wiped off my eye shadow.

I never heard her raise her voice.

She cooked dinner for her family every Sunday.

She baked one hell of a pie.

Actually, she baked one hell of an everything you can imagine.

She let me lick the bowl whenever she made a cake, or brownies, or cookies, or anything.

She taught me how to play all sorts of card and dice games.

She played the stupid games I made up too.

If she wasn’t home when I got off the bus, she left a note telling me where the good snacks were.

She taught me my first word.

She was my best friend when I was a little kid because she was always there for me. She always played with me. She took care of me.

She was one hell of a woman and this world will never be the same without her.

Yeah, I’d like you to know that I loved her with all my heart and now my heart is breaking because she’s gone.

I’d like you to know that she deserves to be at peace, and finally reunited with the love of her life after twenty years of separation.

I’d like you to know that I’m selfish and I wish she was still around.

I’d like you to know that Rose L. Duquette was an amazing woman.

Reminiscent of an old lover

Parts of a short story. Wherever (Piece Removed) appears, I have taken out a part of the story. I’m not ready to share those parts yet.

_____________

I think the reason I like reading the work of Chuck Palahniuk so much is because it reminds me of an old lover. Not Chuck himself, but the way he writes. The way he tells his stories. I can hear his voice when I read, and it is deep and soothing, much like the voice of the man I used to love.
He was a writer, too. He still is, actually.
I’m a writer. I was a writer before him. Not before he was a writer, but before he came into my life. He inspired me to write more.
I wrote some of my very best pieces thanks to his inspiration. (Piece Removed)
That’s what he did for me. He made me good. He made me FEEL.

…..

Ours was a whirlwind romance. The kind that happens so suddenly it’s almost too good to be true.
We knew each other only as far as we chose to know each other. Not a bit farther.
But we were deep together. We would write and then we would read what we wrote, each the other’s work. Then we would respond to it, often telling each other our very favorite parts and what we THOUGHT it meant.
We said “I love you” often. I don’t know that I even really knew what love was then. But I knew I loved him.
He said he’d never break my heart.
He lied.
Even so, he still inspired me. Instead of writing about our love, I wrote about his lie. How he took my heart and destroyed it.
I was a wreck. That was not the first heartbreak I had ever experienced, but it was the first that I was old enough to understand. And I was still so young.
We still spoke every day. Still shared our work, except I was more selective in the pieces I chose to share. He still has yet to read everything I’ve written for him, about him. Some are awfully mean and I’d never subject anyone I care about to such cruelty.
Yes, I care about him.
He came around, eventually. Told me he knew in his head that I was wonderful, amazing, the perfect one, but his heart was just too confused to accept it. Or maybe it was the other way around.
Then his heart suddenly became not so confused and he wanted to give it another shot. I was for it; I still loved him.
But something changed because I started to fall in love with someone else. (Piece Removed)
We did not suddenly fall in love; it was a gradual process that took several years of close friendship. When we finally realized we loved each other, I was on the cusp resurrecting my relationship with the heart breaker.
(Piece Removed)
I think he hated me for a while for saying I’d get back with him and then choosing someone else instead. I felt awful about it, but I already gave him his second chance.
Even so, he is someone I think about from time to time. I read his new work whenever he feels it is good enough to share with the world. And each time I read, I am reminded of why I loved him.
He still inspires me, and I find that most of the time I can still write with ease when he is the topic.
He is in a serious relationship with someone else now. I’ve only seen one picture of her, but she looks beautiful as far as I can tell. I’m happy for him. I’m happy for me too.
(Piece Removed)
I’d be lying if I said I didn’t miss the way I felt when I was with him. Even the way he broke my heart, I miss that sometimes.
(Piece Removed)
That is why I enjoy reading Chuck Palahniuk. It is the closest I will ever come to having that old life. And I don’t always miss it, just sometimes.
And here’s the real kicker, only two days ago, I found out that the heart breaker thoroughly enjoys the work of dear old Chuck. This may be a sign of something; maybe it’s why I’m writing this.
But hey, what do I know?

The Memories

The pictures have become tattered now
Tear drops stain their ink
And it makes me wonder how
I was foolish enough to think
That the memories make you laugh
Because all they do is make you cry
And it never gets any easier
When you have to say goodbye

Eternal Desolation

There are so many things I wish I had the courage to say. So many fears I wish I could voice. There are so many thoughts and ideas kept prisoner inside my mind.

My mind is like a giant jail cell full of innocent people wrongly convicted of a crime, condemned to spend eternity locked up unjustly. I too, am a prisoner of my mind. I see the thoughts, ideas, and feelings, and there is a sheet of glass blocking them, so strong that nothing can penetrate it. I can not set them free; I can not set myself free. With each day that passes a thin layer of dust covers the glass and no matter what I do to clear the dust, eventually everything becomes indistinguishable.
I can no longer tell when I am happy or when I am sad. I have become a shell of my former self, numb to all feelings good or bad. Often times when I assume that I am happy, I raise a hand to my face only to feel tears pouring out of my eyes. I don’t know the reason that I cry, and I can never quite tell why I’m smiling.
It seems that no matter how hard I try I can no longer grasp the things that I once had such control over. I used to be able to pull inspiration out of thin air and write down my deepest desires and darkest secrets. Now no matter how long I sit and stare at a piece of paper or the flashing bar on the computer screen, nothing inspiring comes to my mind.
I have become a desperate soul searching for a purpose. What is left for me now that I’ve lost it all? I used to want to be a writer with the ability to instill fear, happiness, desperation and love into the hearts and minds of anyone and everyone who read my books or my poetry. I knew that I had that ability then, and to this day I know that I still have so much potential.
The problem is I let things dwell and become forever encased in that glass that continually gathers dust. I’ve placed my inspiration in a glass box on a shelf too high for me to reach and no way to ever access it again. I’ve lost the ability to be happy or hopeful. The only feelings that I have are ones of desperation and despair.
I have lost the strength in all my friendships. Everyone that used to be close and important has been lost along this journey towards eternal desolation. The faces of former friends and family are now simply just shadows fading into the night. When that final ray of light dwindles and dies, the shadows of the people that I once loved will too fade away, along with any hope that I had left.
I feel as though I’m on a sinking ship without life vest or lifeboat. I’ve sailed myself out to the middle of nowhere and the water around me is freezing. My body is exhausted and lacks the strength to swim me back to salvation. There is no one beside me to offer comforting words, there’s no one for me to say goodbye to, no one to save me.
That is what my life has become, a ship destined to sink. I have lost touch with reality, only able to look through the dusted glass, as though I’m living in a dream and unable to contact anyone of importance. I can see my memories and they remind me of how things used to be. I see the soul of my former self screaming out in anguish for all the pain I’ve suffered. I see the shell of who I used to be going through the motions of every day life, struggling to get by.
Night time is the only time that I embrace because when the restlessness finally subsides and I fade away into sleep, I am free, if only but for a few hours.