What is loneliness, really?

You can be surrounded
by hundreds in the city
and still feel all alone.

By yourself be and yet
a sweet memory sustains you
When everyone is gone.

What defines that odd space
so empty yet so heavy
in the proverbial middle
of your being, of your soul?

What is the ellusive nature
of the hungry black hole
threatening to swallow
the very light of your core?

Quantum physics be damned!
One day you feel connected.
The next you are so lost.

The figments of my essence
of fickle fibers, they are made.
To have them be permanent
I haven’t found a way.

Yes, of them I am a puppet
forever I must run.

There and back; forever struggling,
to find and patch the gaps.

Perhaps one day, perhaps,
I will remain connected
I will remain attached.

And loneliness will be
but a thing of the past.

The Holiday Season that wasn’t

Heartbreak

Anger

Sadness

Bitterness

Loneliness

Not a lot of Holiday spirits here, as you can see.

This holiday season easily takes the prize of the second worst Christmas ever. By like a mile.

Transplanted to a new city. Alone. Far, far away from my children. Missing Satchie.

No decorations, no yule tree, no joy, no singing, no dancing, no presents.

There’s always a first time for everything, they say. And this is the first x-mas there wasn’t any presents. In my 13 years in Canada, I’ve gotten used to the no singing, no dancing part. But there was always some decorations, some cheer, a tree, some traditional food and some presents with little monetary value but highly priced in love.

I know it is not about fancy gifts. It has never been about the money. But one of the things that give me joy is getting the people I love a present that will bring a smile to their faces. I truly enjoy shopping for presents for them. I didn’t get to do any holiday shopping, for various reasons. 1. I’ve got no family in this continent. 2. After paying first and last month rent for the place I am taking possession of next week, I was left with very little money. 3. Even if I had money, there’s that little issue of anxiety getting in the way of me going out to the ONE mall in this city.

In theory, the shopping should have been very easy since I only had to shop for the fiance (the gifts for the Sidlets were made a long time ago, when I was still in Lansingtown. Besides, I don’t think I’ll get to see them any time soon and not for a long time). But the lack of money and the anxiety of getting on a bus in a city I am not familiar with, got the best of me.

Whatever.

Actually, I lied. I did manage with the help of the fiance, to get Jay a last minute catnip fish and a can of wet food. He was very happy with bothCatnip fish

[All I want for christmas is]

All I want for christmas is…

How many times it has been said.

A dad. A job. Love. A house. A promotion. A raise. A miraculous remission. Those skates. That bike. A pair of shoes for my daughter so she doesn’t have to walk barefoot to school. For the war to end. For that bastard to die.

I, too, have said it from time to time. Not every christmas. Most years, I had everything I needed. It seemed ungrateful to ask for more.

As this year’s christmas approaches, I sure have a few things I wish for. [All I want for christmas is] For this stupid farce of a life to end, for example. Continue reading

In The Still of The Night

Want to sleep but can’t.
Want to close my eyes and dream.
In the still of the night I wonder…
Is he the one for me?
How many nights I’ve longed
for a kiss, a sweet embrace.
Deep breathing, soft caresses,
the warmth of a loving face.
Awake at night I hunger
dawn comes and there’s no relief.
In the still of the night I wonder…
will he come to me?
Alone during the day I walk
alone and lonely still
fluttering hearts desire
touching fingertips
In the still of the night I wonder…
Is there a man for me?

There’ll be days like this

When did this blog turn so sad?


When I started it a few months ago, I had a different idea.  It was supposed to be a happy blog.  About the things I like, the things I enjoy doing.  Like swing dancing, for example.  About my life in Canada -which I love!


Why do I feel compelled to write about all these awful things? why can’t they stay 6 feet under?  I guess that as much as I have tried to bury them, they refuse to be forgotten.  They’re like Zombies!


Very well.  I shall continue writing about them.  Perhaps if I do, one day they will get tired of haunting me and they will leave me alone.


I started thinking about death right after my mother died.  Ok, one may argue that it was way before that I guess but it didn’t become a conscious thing until then. And I don’t mean death in general, I mean my own death.


I lost all my desire to live -which was never very big to start with, right after that nefarious October in 1983.


Funny thing, I have always been perceived as a happy person.  Even as a child.  Just a couple of weeks before my mother died, one of the nuns commented on what a happy girl I was and what a happy family I had.  I just smiled.  I’ll never forget how I felt inside when she said that.  I wanted to scream “if you only knew”  I wanted to scream “please help me”.  I couldn’t.  I didn’t say anything.  I just smiled.  I had carried my burden, my shame in silence for so many years.  And I continued to do so until now.  I changed schools.  I distanced myself from most of my friends and made new ones.  Friends that didn’t know anything about my past.  Till this very day, nobody in my family talks about those things.  My mother is very rarely mentioned.  My father even less.


But I also continued to smile.  Go figure.  It’s never been a fake smile…. ok, almost never.  Most of the time my smile is genuine.  I truly enjoy a lot of things.  I am two persons in one.  The happy, cheerful girl that loves to dance and do sports and many other things.  And the sad, lost little girl who wants to find her way home.  Very lonely and scared.  The little girl that doesn’t know how to take care of herself. The little girl that doesn’t understand why mommy and daddy are not around.


And that kills me.  Sometimes – like now, the pain is unbearable.  The loneliness, the fear.  Those days I feel I can’t keep on going.  Those days I think even more about death.  Those days I resent the doctors that kept me alive when I was born a premature baby.  Those days I beg Death to come get me.  Those days I hope for some miracle that would put me out of my misery.


The tragedy is that I am a happy person by nature. Or I would be, were it not for the special circumstances of my life…. 


Well, my mama didn’t need to tell me there’ll be days like this.  I found out all by myself when I was still a child.