Friday, August 20, 2010

How I Started to Cry

How I Started to Cry: a  Somewhat Poetic Rant

I am not special. I am not beautiful. I am not happy, and I may never be. In fact there’s a great chance that I wont be. I won’t be where I want to be, ever. I will never leave an impact on this world. I am not driven. I am not talented. I don’t want to try. to be useful. or productive. I want to abandon every project or endeavor I had ever begun or planned out. I am no writer. Everyone is a writer, no one is discovered. I may never love the way I dream to. I may never love at all. I dream too big, yes there is such a thing. The floorplan of my life is imaginary, it’s based on other people’s fiction and realities. I am not a good human being. I am a lie. I am the façade. I do well to rack up karma points that I hope will one day buy me the life I’ve spent too much time fantasizing about. I’m beginning to doubt my potential. I have not yet succeeded at anything. I am not noteworthy. I am not memorable and no one will remember me. I am nothing BUT a memory. A face in the crowd of someone’s life. The girl I knew in 6th grade. I haven’t cried like this in a while. I have not sobbed. I have not curled up in a ball, kneeling into the floor attempting to degenerate myself into matter. It’s been some time now. The things I worry about are absurd. Will I have money to buy toothpaste, or shampoo, in the next week before college starts? Will I be able to afford getting my sheets laundered and my jeans altered? I am not noble, and I have no story to tell. I suck at fiction. I do not want to try so hard, work my life away to be a writer, or a doctor, to revolutionize fertility, or be an activist, I don’t want to bring a voice to anyone… I barely have my own. I can’t live with myself as being the person who sits on the couch marathoning decade old television episodes. being a spud. I am inconsolable most of the time. I have used up my free sympathy passes and never truly have anyone to turn to, that I will not regret the next morning. I am not great. or good. I can’t breathe through my nose. It is stuffed. I have been alone for too long. I have nothing of my own. I have not been inspired. and I am not inspiring. I am selfishly kind, if at all. I am prettiest after I spend my time crying. I am trying to ignore the fact that I have not and will not shower today, lie it away, believe my own lie and make it disappear, not because I am depressed but because I am lazy. I am running out of words, my attempts are getting shoty and way too calculated but I can’t stop typing because the lifeless, worthless, not empty per se, more like decrepit, feeling is still there. I firmly believe that I am too difficult to love and that those who may begin to explore feelings for me will find that I have standards that they shouldn’t try to live up to. Yes, I too have standards, while I don’t have the right to. I expect to meet my ideal and for that I may be foolish, no, I most definitely am. I am tired to of being relied on but I am good at nothing more. I spend my time proving myself to someone who isn’t there. And what for? To be remembered by few, and famous to virtually no one. To leave nothing behind. Living life as merely going through a series of motions. a procedure with no wealth. I saw the sparkle in her words as they surely were in her eyes when she wrote them and realized that to some she was an idol, while others had never heard of her and that’s how I started to cry. I would never meet her or get to love her. I would never be her. Her optimism soars and she believes in the best in people and in art. She herself is an artist. She has the luxury of being herself and loving it, even when she doesn’t know it. And I fear I will have none of that.
I have a hard time believing that you can mean everything to some people and still mean nothing to others. What does it take to live happily and what can we teach the world?


  1. I'm 48 years old Robin, and believe me we all have days like this. No one, and I mean no one has the answers; they just pretend they do.

    You have raw talent as a writer, Robin. Keep writing. :-)

  2. I agree with Paul, absolutely no one has the answers. Wonderfully written response to the prompt!

    -Weasel =)

  3. I agree with both Paul and Weasel. Answers are difficult to find and often we give up when we are so close to finding them. You have described in this "poetic rant" much of how my days and life have been.

  4. I love "degenerate myself into matter." I've been there. You gave voice to something deep inside that speaks agony. This is a wonderful exploration of self. I applaud your honesty.

    For me one way that happiness comes is through kind actions toward others.

    Walk in peace,

  5. Robin, Paul and Weasel are right we all have days like this. You have continually inspired me with your fresh and real writing. I always look forward to more. :-)

  6. I love it when you write like this Robin, it has energy and power and touches on all of the universal things that most humans feel (and then convince themselves that they are the only one who feels that way.)

    Well done for putting those feelings into words so that others can identify with them.

    Really good writing Robin.


  7. "I am trying to ignore the fact that I have not and will not shower today, lie it away, believe my own lie and make it disappear, not because I am depressed but because I am lazy."
    -oh I've had days like this!

  8. "I am no writer. Everyone is a writer, no one is discovered."

    "The floorplan of my life is imaginary, it’s based on other people’s fiction and realities."

    2 parts that stood out, I like this....similar to what Paul Andrew Russel said- everyone has days like this.
    I like the delivery, an even more so, the blunt reality of emotions one can feel, in given circumstances.

  9. flow the flow,
    accept what you have....

    it is hard, but it may be what you must do..

  10. Your biggest quality is your courage...your courage to admit to your feelings...honestly and have discovered discover the truth of life...

  11. wow your really deep. and you have true talent pleasse dont stop this is a good place for u to vent and from what ive read you need to keep it up and i hpe we can be friend oh my name is isabella you can check my blog out at htpp://

  12. it has been a long time since i've felt like this, but still, i can relate. it is true we are our own harshest critics and nobody sees us the same way we see ourselves. self image is the fun-house reflection of the mind. it is skewed and it is flawed. take it with a grain of salt.

  13. I just happened upon this while on stumble upon. It first took me to your feminist blog, and after reading your bio I went to this one. I am a freshman at Appalachian State University in Boone NC. And I too will be majoring in literature, and minoring in Women's Studies. Just from reading your bio, you already inspired me. I was excited to have someone to follow, that seems to have similar dreams and interests as my own. This was the first post I read...and after reading it I thought "we are more alike than I thought" I often have these days, and if you are like me, you probably looked back at this and thought that you were a little silly...until you feel like this again, and then you will go right back to your old material. Writing helps. And reading others writing helps. The next time I feel this way, I will surely come back to your blog. Thanks for the inspiration! Keep posting, I look forward to reading.