Gilded Cage

I don’t want to bore you with inauthentic garbage. I want to spill the contents of my mind and hope that something genuine lands on this virtual paper.

So what issue to discuss today? The fact that I get affirmation from others that the contents of my head are sometimes worthy of sharing but I still feel like a failure?

That I have moments of absolute clarity and am fully aware that I am not made to walk this earth, my heart is too sensitive, too valuable to continue to torture in this sea of superficialism (yea I made that word up, it just sounds right).

That my eyes pool with tears more times than I care to recount and that I cant figure out a way to die that won’t devastate my family. I feel like this Florida winter…holding fast to summer temperatures and humidity, unwilling to become what I know I should be…wearing boots in 90 degree weather because the rest of the country is enjoying the snow and cooler air…and I’m just here, hot and sticky, unappealing.

I don’t know what to do anymore. I spin wheels, try in vain to come up with and stick to some semblance of routine, it never sticks. Never.

That I’ve started to spend time in a cliché little coffee shop like us writers do in hopes of sparking creativity or to fill the void in my heart with the banter of like minded individuals long enough to get through the hours of loneliness that consume my days?

That I have been a contributing writer and columnist for no less than 4 magazines, 1 major book franchise, entered and won multiple national poetry contests, poured my soul into this blog and I worry every single day that I have not made myself or my life into something my children can be proud of?

That I continue to allow my heart to rule every decision I make, to my detriment, always?

That this is the first year I don’t have a Christmas tree, that even when I was homeless I managed to make something into a tree and hang ornaments from the wall?

That all I want is to do is curl up in someone’s lap and have my hair played with while watching really shitty sy-fy movies and sip on coffee made too strong to actually enjoy?

Or do I just lay it all out there and let you sift through the thoughts like rummaging at a garage sale and hope you stumble on something worth opening up your coin purse to buy?

These were all the thoughts that plagued my mind on my 10 minute drive home, along with the mundane things like “I really need to clean my bedroom and how long will I have electricity before it’s turned off and my cat hates his new cat food and the oil change in my car is long overdue and this bridge…is always where my thoughts collide and how fast would I need to be going to launch my car over the railing and I can’t believe the Dolphins lost this week and I miss him and my heart hurts…really hurts and why cant I let him go and why do I taste salt on my lips again, oh because the water works are going off and I didn’t even notice until I got home.”

So good morning writing community…this madness is my home.




2 thoughts on “Gilded Cage

  1. damn Christie this is deep and I can completely relate to those “drive home” thoughts – especially the bridge. I don’t know if that’s something to “lol” at, because of its irony or something to share a virtual hug over instead. I wonder the same about my “imprint” being sufficient for when I leave the world. Hopefully you’re in a better place since this post. I’m catching up with all December blogs right now.

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