So because things have gotten rather difficult for me these past few weeks. Mostly with school and trying to catch back up on my cleaning and everything... now may computer... blah! So much chaos! And somehow, I know it will never end... not until life ends, I think.
So since it isn't going to end... anytime soon. I am doing the only logical thing a smart person can do in my situation, who possesses a talent for writing...
I'm going to write about my struggle...
My struggle from abject poverty... on an income of about $665.00 /mo. ...
... to actually having the $$ to do things...
Not to one day make a bestseller... but if someone wants to read it, I would like to make it so that they could... But mostly for myself.
Because, this helps... to get all of that frustration out. And when I read it,... I can truly realize my own inner strength...
So now I am ... presenting... my story. . . The excerpt below... which will continue to be added onto in the course of this entire thing. I'll try to keep my readers abreast of the publishing of my writings.
. . . .
What started as a simple hello between two hard working
individuals searching for a better opportunity to make a better life. Has
become a life-long struggle. A fight against all odds. All pressures. And all
manner of emotional and physical tests… one can put oneself through… all in the
effort to obtain a single solitary ever pure and simple… touch….
He asks
me…
“What is
the first thing that I will say to him… when I meet him face to face in
person?”
What will be the first thing that I
say to him… when I meet him face to face for the first time…?
And yet. . . I am at odds…
In truth. . .
I do not wish to say anything… I’ve
struggled with the thought for many days now. Days and nights. Nights and days…
And nothing… I can come up with nothing.
In my heart, there is nothing to be
said.
In my heart, I would just be happy to hold him in my arms and not let go. And
never let go. Like if I could just hold onto him… keep him near forever…
(But that is a thing of dreams.), I
tell myself. (And simply an emotional reaction from the heart.)
Still…
Would it say what I am longing to?
. . . This brief interval. This
solitary moment of a notion, I have described to you. . .
This is the beginning…
The beginning of a story of two
people. A romance set in motion. By a chance meeting. Possibly set amongst the
stars! (satellites-same thing). And a tale told by a very lonely, very
exhausted, very emotionally deprived girl. I call it;
The Struggle
. . . .
… Standing at a crossroads between
self-affiliation and a heart filled with grief. Grasping at straws for a work
that can’t be reached. And all the while, battling sleep.
Fighting against it, like a massive
looming dragon hoping to devour you at every turn.
[I need to get this done!] I plea
with it.
I need to fight to stay awake!
Burning eyes, that itch with
allergens, peer upon the blank white page… glaring through it as though looking
past the written words upon the screen. To see the myriads of colors that
circle all around it! Dancing like the mythic fairies in a moonlit summers
night.
Dance my pretties dance!
And sing your songs of whimsy, for
me.
That I might not be put to sleep.
That I might not be caught off guard by the sleeping dragon. Who waits for me!
...
“But why? Why remember something
that’s bad?”
“The same reason… we are told to
remember the wars of bygone eras. The same reason we are told to remember some
of man’s worst atrocities…
So that we can always remember… how
very blessed we truly are now…”
And she knows…
She had to struggle. From the get
go. As often people do.
To start out on her own.
To master driving. To master living
alone. To master getting work. Earning money the hard way. And living off of
plain white rice… at times.
The sleepless nights…
The long mind numbing days…
The glare of the sun…
And the chill of a freezing night,
huddled under blankets for warmth…
It’s a reformation of character,
they say. To have suffered and come off victorious. And to remember those days
and feel grateful for what you have. Always thinking back… and knowing all the
while…
Somewhere, out there… there’s
another me… another girl struggling to start out… to make it on her own… not
out of choice. . . But out of reason.
Survival.
The word has a different meaning,
when it applies to years of getting dead end jobs just so that you can eat and
pay your own bills…
Years of paying bills… years of
dreaming of the things you can never afford. Years of dreaming of no longer
having to worry about food. Or about the fact that your clothes don’t fit
because you can’t afford to buy them brand new. And can only find them in a
thrift store or for giveaway that no one wants. Lucky to find a size that’s at
least close to what you need. And still, watching as it deteriorates over the
months… all the while knowing that you need to keep your vehicle running in
order to make the money and get what you feel you need. And so, you really might never
afford a decent pair. Another one. So, you wash your clothes tirelessly…
Slave to make them clean, and wear
them over and over so that you can manage with the few that you have.
In all of this… I can only hope…
and write… And try to make you understand.
This isn’t a story about the bad
times…
This is a story about a struggle.
Our Struggle.
01-31-2018
~ CLynn
