Tangled too tight and too long to fight

There you stood on the edge of your feather, Expecting to flyWhile I laughed, I wondered whetherI could wave goodbye.Knowin' that you'd goneBy the summer . It was healing. We had said goodbye

I have nothing. Nothing that could describe exactly what goes in my mind, as if anyone would want to know anyway. I lay in bed last night, at 3AM, snuggled up tight in my 4 comforters, two sets of sheets, and five pillows. I lay in the dark-warmness, and listened to the silence. I lay thinking about things that can never be changed. The scenes lie unblemished and untouched in the dark place of my being; a place of perpetual mourning.

"One day, I'm going to fix everything" I tell myself.

"I will have such a life, that everything I've ever experienced will be balanced out".

But, of course, that's silly.

I just wish people would do for me, what I am more than willing to do for them.

So I gently surrender to these things . I surrender them by heart, by spirit,and by a reassuring peace that asked me to trust in a reason I could never explain.

beginning with confusion

we found you sleeping by your lover's stone; a ream of paper and a telephone . A broken bow across a long lost violin .Your lover's angel told the captain's man "it never ends the way we had it planned" and kissed her palm and placed it on your dreaming head

It's miraculous. My head is so stuffed with mucus and other sick-like things, but yet I still have enough room in there to throw about thoughts of addling confusion. It's saturday, and there's no end in sight.

It's negative 5 degrees in my house. I'm spending my day cleaning, with a voice lesson thrown in the picture.

Speaking of pictures, my school pictures came the other day. I look ridiculous. My head is tilted in confusion, compliments of the imbicile who snapped the photo. My mother insisted I send my new school picture to my bio-father. " He'll love it Amanda, you know that" She say's. "You also should call him , you promised you'd call him."

He doesn't want to miss out on my life. I can't decide if that's sweet, or insulting.

" You should be thankful!" everyone tells me. " You have FOUR parents who love you."
Mother #1 whos nuerotic and overprotective, who burns insence and does yoga. Who nags incessently, and collects things from India. Things with shiny deep exotic colors, colors we don't have here in NY.

Mother #2. I've only seen her once since I left.

She was bubbly, over-affectionate, and emotional. I sat on a couch with her and my birthfather, and she said to him

"it's nice to have us all together. A real family"

I sit here, and the only reason I can picture her face is because of the photo i have of her on my nightstand. I didn't have the heart to tell her.

Father #1 whos overbearing and has the expectations that reach the roof. Who's ridiculous temper matches mine.

Father #2- Easy going. Rolling in it. Tall, muscular. Physically, I'm his clone

My parents and b-parents insist they love me more than the other.

In a letter my b-mother wrote me years ago, it says:
" No one will ever love you as much as I"

That realization keeps me running forward, and I've looked back only once. I never question what I saw when I looked back, afraid of what I might find out.