ThoughtStrings: Suicide By Sincerity

Suicide By Sincerity 

There is a way to die 

Slowly

And all alone: 

Be sincere 

Now wait

For the noose

Of misunderstandings 

Cunning pulls the trigger

Planting  

Evidence everywhere 

Choosing to live with sincerity, I am misunderstood, or sometimes,  more painful, purposely maligned. 

Understanding these consequences,  still, I press on.  

ThoughtStrings: We Are Lighthouses

DEEP SEA  SLEEPER

 

Yes, we are lighthouses

Shining hope and direction for those

Tossed at sea 

 

But there is a time

To turn out the light

And go to sleep 

 

ThoughtStrings: An Introduction

For years I have been keeping notes on my phone and scrawled-on paper fragments in a scattered collection of what I refer to as  ' ThoughtStrings ' 

I've often said that someday, I'll knit them together into a patchwork story quilt or two... which has been my reason for jotting stuff down in the first place... I want to come back, preferably at a more-quiet-less-busy time to think more on these breeze-strewn strands. 

Sometimes, when I pick one up, I have no idea what I was thinking, or why. 

Other times, I smile as I think back on the versions of me I have been, or cry (just a little!) over where I'll never go again. 

Each time, I am grateful that I stopped long enough to take a snapshot with my pen. 

Going forward,  I'll be sharing those old coat pocket scraps, tagged ' ThoughtStrings '  with or without commentary.

 If transparency and vulnerability are essential ingredients to courageous writing, here's looking at me (in fragments) : 

Untitled, two entries on yellow legal paper

Undated

Folded, tucked behind the legal pad in my default padfolio

Why: explaining identity (apparently)

 { 1 }

I don't know who I am anymore

I know the right answers:

Child of God

In Christ 

Redeemed

So much gratitude for all that and more yet

I still don't know myself. 

Don't recognize me

We aren't really friends - she and me - but not from animosity

Simply unfamiliarity 

Some of her old ways didn't work for us

And I don't know what to do with their remains

Like so many other projects:

• Making a quilt
• Crochet
• Collage 

All junk now

Piling up

Heavy stacks of magazines 

With no words I can use

 { 2 }

Time is ticking 

And I've already lost 

Wasted 

So much 

I can't make some things happen faster

Tomorrow remains indefinite

Unknown 

And Unleashable  

 

Commentary: 

(1) While I feel a little more familiar with who I am becoming, I still remain a casual acquaintance with myself... as if I quick-glanced the blueprint but neglected to take notes on specific measurements. (2) I'm not sure this was in relation to anything specific, but Rye's deep desire for 'step-dad' activities, like picnics in the park and taking an inevitable dog for walks, before she 'ages out' of such things comes to mind, as do house repairs and finances in general.