Monday, June 11, 2012
JUNE: TRIBUTE TO CREATIVE WRITERS
Picking Up The Pieces
My life has been in pieces since my earliest memories. My time on this Earth always has been on the outside looking in. No matter how hard I’ve tried, no matter how hard I’ve prayed, I have never been able to put all the pieces together. At this point in my existence, it is painfully obvious that I will end this way, and will not kid myself into believing it will be any other way.
I’ve seen how people around me belong to something. I used to wish so hard to feel that, to experience that even for a little while. If I were to feel that, I want it for good. I don’t buy that It’s better to have and lost, than to never have at all bull. I’m not just talking about love and romance. I’m talking about being a part of the human race to fit in, to belong. I’m a misfit, misanthrope.
I had no control over my way in the world as a child. Forces then worked to push me outside the human circle and keep me there. As a young man turned loose on the world, I had no sense of self or set of rules for social interaction. With no self-esteem, no idea of how to engage with and nurture a relationship with anyone, the recipe with females was subject to abject failure. I have no real significant friendships to look back on period, just many shallow acquaintances and brief encounters with women; no semblance of a relationship throughout my years.
I am so tired of beating on this bubble trying to get on the inside or am I on trapped on the inside trying to bust out? Either way, I am going to die with my face pressed against the glass with my life still in pieces.
Robert NYcanes Richardson
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