“Memory is the diary we all carry about with us.”

-Oscar Wilde


The 'Lost' series, piece 2:

Caged Heart

My mother never wanted me. She pushed me out of her life, and out of her heart with the same kind of tightly controlled smile that you find among the popular high school girls and type-A, corporate-minded females. At some point, I ceased to be a real, feeling, human to her and became instead a conviction... an 18 year sentence. 

I throw myself at her headlong, whining piteously at her feet like some unwanted dog.  My heart... desperate for escape from loneliness, batters itself against the glass like some horribly caged bird.  

In these blogs I will attempt to explain, in words, the feelings I was having when I composed the piece. Composed? Constructed? Something...

I suppose it's best to begin at the beginning...

The 'Lost' series:

These pieces were brought to fruition in my mind in the early parts of the last year of my life. They made it onto paper in the last 7 months or so... They represent the losing of one's place in life.

Piece 1:

Wanderlust

 I kept moving, telling myself I desired the movement, felt a need to travel, explore new places, but I wasn't telling myself the truth.

I was alone, and lonelier than I had ever been. I had a place to live, but I was homeless. My heart hurt, I was estranged from my son, and my lover didn't seem to understand my pain. 

My attempts to interact with society were contrived, mediocre, and left me feeling drained. 

I wanted desperately to belong somewhere, feel needed and wanted, so I searched the maps, unfolded them in my mind and plotted the locations and hearts of everyone who ever claimed to give a shit. I contacted those I believed, those I held out real hope for. Set aside a room inside me; made the bed, fluffed the pillows and invited them in...