Letters | To Those In My Life, Who I've Let Slip Away

To Those In My Life Who I've Let Slip Away,

I wish that you could know my heart, and the way I feel
For doing what I've done.
As I know I haven't made the time
I ought to; and that thought, is something I mind.

There are battles I've fought,
Battles I've won,
And even then
The war isn't done.

And I've fought many dangers
I've known many fears
But have I ever fought
To keep you all here?

I'm sorry, I am
I truly am.
I should never have been
Such a good-looking sham.

I've said I care about you
And really, I do.
But actions beat words,
And so it isn't true.

Lately, it seems, I've been so morose
And sometimes I think
I ought to take the final dose.
(It's times like these
I'm glad we aren't so close.)

What it is, I don't know
But no longer can I row.
The troubled waters surge
And more I feel the urge
To sink beneath them low and lie
And no more breathe, and no more cry.

The birds above are calling my knell;
Into the dark of the grey sky I yell
Of secrets I can never tell
To someone I know, who knows my hell.

Do save me, someone,
Save me please.
Do something
Ere I begin to cease.
Knowing not why, knowing not how
I feel the dark come over me now.

When I was born, I never thought
That this was how it’d be.
I never knew that love was bought
By people I could never be.

The water is dark and cold and stone
And as much as I hate myself, I know
That this isn't the way I want to go.
This isn't the end I want to show.

For once I'd like to give people hope
And stay a few constant thoughts of rope.
I'd bring sunshine smiles and laughter true
Filling the room and the rafters, too.

The darkened water is calling me;
It tells me that I can be free
If only I will run into the sea
If only I will hug its deep.

I don't want to go,—I don't
But it won't let me go—it won't.
Just give me time to think and pray!
I'd like to see another day.

The night is waning
The dawn is straining
But somehow I'm still here complaining.

Now again it calls my name
And tells me that I don't have to be tame
That I don't have to be the same
Or continue to play this wicked game.

So tell me, you, whoever you are
Why should I not run into those arms?
And rest then and always with simple charm
Where my soul will nevermore come to be harmed.

I hear the swish and roar of waves
In the midst it still echoes my name
And for all I know, I will not be saved
As far as I know, I have never been craved.

The wind whips in my face
But I've never been in haste
To let my breath go to waste
Over such a thing as empty space.

Looking out at the sea
Reflected I see
The being who is supposed to be me
But for reasons can never truly be free.

I couldn't post this anywhere
Not anywhere but here.
I couldn't let that many hear
These dark and dismal fears.

The dark calls to me,

And if I can't be free

Why should I not go out to sea

And know no more this reality?

The Striving | Day 8: Tired, Tired, Tired

I wish I could sleep forever. I wish I could lay down, and never arise from my slumber. What can I say? I'm tired today. I read a little. I worked mostly. And my goals?
What goals?

--Reeths

The Striving | Day 7: Quite a Busy Day

Church was... I don't really know. I was dosing throughout most of the thing. We went to Pizza Ranch for my youngest brother's birthday. Yesterday he turned four years old. Hah. He's been harping on it for the last few weeks—since at least December, as I recall. That's where he wanted to go. Pizza Ranch.

A few of my siblings and I had to leave early for our CyberPatriot round. It took six hours, but WHOO! We got a better score than I expected! It was pretty challenging, and I didn't think we had a chance of moving on. We'll see, though. Maybe we'll be able to continue.

I finally talked with my brother about taking the position. He seemed to understand. Gave a bunch of advice about what I should do. I'm still doubtful about taking the position. But hey—I don't think I'm going to college this fall. So at least there's that.

For some reason, I feel better about the future. I think it's because of the way he talks. It's this calm, you-don't-have-to-but-it'd-be-helpful thing. I don't know, maybe I'm just a bleeding heart.

--Reeths

The Striving | Day 6: A Day of Peace

Today was the Wreaths Across America ceremony. It was freezing cold, and the ceremonial gloves were so thin my hands became chapped. But I enjoyed it. It was a beautiful, sunny day, and everyone was in good spirits. We took a few pictures to commemorate the ceremony, and then some left, while the rest of us stayed to lay wreaths upon the graves.

The snow was the almost cake-y kind, where you could pack it into a snowball. Stepping in a foot deep of it, with dress shoes was not a fun experience. Having chunks of snow fall into your shoes and melt was not, by far, the best time you have ever had, either.

When we had finished laying wreaths upon the graves, we returned to our cars and drove our separate ways. My sister and I went to visit our grandpa. Our aunt and one of our cousins were there, cleaning. They finished, and after talking a little, left.

If you've ever had a conversation with me, you know what the atmosphere was like. Awkward. But on the whole, I appreciated it. He seemed to as well. We spent about half an hour or so more, and then we left for home.

What it was about today that felt peaceful is well beyond me. Maybe I never heard anyone shouting angry words. Maybe it was because I was content with how the morning went. Maybe the sun was sunny enough.

Something about today was peaceful. Maybe it was me.

--Reeths

The Striving | Day 5: It Continues to Drag

The alarm rings. Once. Twice. Maybe three times. Possibly four. But all of that, I ignore. It's warm beneath the covers, there is comfort in the pitch darkness of the room. And so I sleep.
And I wake—with a start. It is time to get up. To do something. Breakfast—or lunch is dull and tasteless. I turn to study Management. But wait—there is something more interesting. I had better check this out.
The time drags by on weighted wheels. I've become less productive. And it's not that I don't know it, it's just that I'm too tired to care. To write, even, is painful. Tomorrow. Tomorrow must be a better day, right?

--Reeths

The Striving | Day 4: But a Sliver of Time

The day has gone by quick. It is late at night right now. I am tired. I may be so tomorrow, too. Hopefully I'll be able to talk to my brother about the position. I don't want to take it. Well, I don't think I would do enough. Or have enough time for it.
They deserve better. Better than me, with no time. Who does not care about it the way a veteran would. I've been in a few months. What do I know about their beloved traditions? What do I care? I don't.
Or maybe I do.

--Reeths

The Striving | Day 3: When It Begins to Slow

Productivity has dropped. Or so I fear. The reading is creeping every slightly toward my goal. I hadn't known I was working today. Management, as always, was boring. Put me right to sleep. I'm tired from last night.
One of my biggest fears is that I'll never have time to do what I want, what I love, what I need. Not for long. Life, I am not from a circus. I don't know how to juggle. There's so much to do and so little time to do it. Yes, it's a cliche. But it's a true one.

--Reeths