bellrie
You can't know anything for sure. Like this, for example. I don't know what I'm going to write, I don't know what I will see when I've submitted this and scrolled back to read others. I don't know what will happen as I stand up from my chair and get ready for bed. I can't know what's going to happen, because I don't.
But I can predict.
Held. The feeling of being pulled back even though you want to rush surge forward like a tidal wave overwhelming the land and seas and all there is. But something holds you back. That stifling muffling horrible force. I have never been completely let loose before - there's always been something holding me back.
I imagine that I'm on my way to a station. I imagine that I'm waiting for the train and I'm choking because the exhaust from the grimy filthy station is killing me and burning my nose and filling me with dirt. My white clothes are being stained by the black dirt everywhere and I'm just waiting, waiting for that magnificent glorious train to save me from the shadows to bring me to where is home and where I belong.
I don't remember, even if I want to, so much that I feel myself tearing up and my heart clenching.
It's a painful word because there is so much to remember but so much is lost. There is too much to remember, too much forgotten and too little retrieved. I want to remember the happy times, though, when the sun still shone and everything was still okay.
I have never seen a pretzel.
Or tasted it before.
I imagine it must be delicious;
to have such a wonderful name.
(and yes I do have a childhood)
forgotten means childhood. the dusty days pushed in a corner, memories crammed and crammed in boxes stacked over one another seemingly going on and on and for a while you need to gather yourself before you remember those times.
but too much is gone because you cannot seem to remember what that little red truck was for or where that stuffed bunny came from. in your head there is a room where all these things are locked and you have the key but somehow somehow,
you can't remember you need to open to door.
vodka is bitter
although I've never drunk it before
but I imagine that it must twist and turn in your gut
and send you in fits of frenzies
torturing your brain mind soul
and the people around you
too
writing since 2011 · 8 entries · 8 days shown up
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the words bellrie reaches for
rememberimaginefillwaitingbeautifulshadowsglowingvigourforgottenchildhoodcrammedsomehowstationtraindirthappen