wonderment andrea nothing is as it seems i'm lost i'm confused i'm aghast & blown away at what i've recently discovered for once i feel like the person in the mirror her face looks like mine the voice that escapes her mouth is the same that speaks my words looking in her eyes is like peering into my sould i've found me in the midst of trouble & grief & turmoil & damnation... i've finally caught a glimpse of what i've become and i like it copyright 2000 000103 ... anchor baby I stare at the sky in this bereaved sense of awe and I think aloud about all the wonderful things happening to me 000109 ... baby satan one of those minty things people suck on. 010703 ... black-dyed gel product you mean like electrical wires? 010703 ... baby satan sure. live wires'll do just fine. 010703 ... cnxn The key to lasting interest. ~ The result of not knowing where the path leads, yet knowing that in the end all things will turn out positively. 020604 ... . . 050123 ... pSyche You know those days where you wake up just hating yourself? I get those alot. Maybe you do too. Amazes me that I can hate myself so much sometimes. Amazes me that so many other people can hate me just as much -if not more- too. Brings a sense of... Wonderment. My father used to say that to me when I was little. "that's my girl. Always leaving us in wonderment!" and then he'd laugh, smiling down at me from the foggy distance that loomed so high above my 1st grade head. He doesn't do that anymore- compliment me, that is. In fact, I don't think I've seen him really laugh for several years. I've always wondered what it was that made him stop smiling like he always used to. Was it perhaps, just the wearing away of time? Year after year piling down on him in wrinkles and folds of the skin, weighing him down so that it was far too much of a hassle to smile... Or was, more likely, something that his family -perhaps even I- incurred upon him? Was it the wear and tear of suffering the burdens of care that comes from loving someone? The perpetual pain that family incurrs during seemingly endless nights; nights where you lay awake and staring- wondering where your love is now, if they are safe, if they are hurt, if they are thinking of you as oft as you think of them. That right there, brings me to a sense of wonderment. Realizing that though I once again find myself wading through the quicksands of self-pity and remorse, There is a rope being offered me, that I am too idiotic to take. "I love you" a voice whispers by my head. Quick now! Make a decision. Sink or rise? I really don't want to accept the fact that someone loves me. No, really. My family doesn't- couldn't possibly hold a trace of love for me. My friends -oh! don't make me laugh! them- love?! And don't get me started on the exes and countless nameless masses that I know. I mean really, me? no no. And if I accepted that fact, I'd have to stop saying "Ohhh, woe is me. Horribly pathetic middle-class-life me. Woeee unto me. I should go eat worms..." Nope. I don't want to even think about it. I like being blind, thank you very much. I don't want to hear the full story, and I don't care if it's true, thankyouverymuch. Now if you'll excuse me, I have some wallowing in self pity to do. Gooday. So, thus resigned to continue in the belief that I, and everyone else on this forsaken planet, hates the person who wrote this short piece of garbage; I go on like a martyr, suffering inexplicable woes of pain unbeknownst to the common folk. Because really, who else could possibly feel like they are hated? I don't believe anyone else does. I stand a boat alone on my sea, proud and mighty and... rapidly gaining seawater. Now if you will excuse me, I must go and shun those who are offering their little love-tokens and warm hands, tilt my nose to the air, and proceed to cry "woe is me." 051101 what's it to you? who go blather from