greenlemon's blog

to act a certain way
so nobody knows who you are

to look a certain way
so everybody knows who you are

to look in the mirror
and have to ask yourself
“who am I?”
because even you don’t know
the answer

to lose yourself
and see someone else
when you look in the cracked glass
that hangs in a room that isn't yours

you don’t
act
think
or look like you

so who are you?

The chorus to a song I'm working on:

Say it again

Say it for me

Say it for us and all that we

Could become

You never know

Where this winding road will

Lead us

When I return from the bathroom, a trek which probably took longer than it should, I pull open the tent flap and step inside. My therapist Anna looks up from her book at me with that hopeful expression that must be glued on her face.
"So, how did it go?" (Sad, I know, that she has to ask me how my trip to the bathroom went, but Anna is always looking for little hints of improvement.)
"Um, okay I guess, nothing out of the ordinary," I reply casually. For any person, this might be a good response to hear, but for me, 'the ordinary' is the reason that Anna and I are here, the reason that we have had weekly sessions for the past year and a half. I feel bad for her, really. She tries so hard, and starts every little 'adventure' with the clear intentions that I will arrive back at home cured. But I feel the same as I did almost two years ago, scared, jumpy, and paranoid.

I am not sure when exactly it all started. I did not suffer from any kind of trauma or head injury that I know of, but I was not born like this. Maybe there was some small event that made me this way, but if there was one, I don't remember it. Camping in the middle of carnivore-infested woods was just one of the things that my crazy therapist decided might help me deal with some of my fears. But obviously it is not helping me one bit, only introducing me to new things I realize that I should be afraid of. I want to get better, but it seems like I'm on my own there.

Some of the verses from a song I'm working on. Any suggestions would be appreciated!

She doesn't understand
Why nobody listens
But they're all caught up
As the heap of trouble deepens
Wanting to do something to change their world
Can't figure out where to start
She slowly realizes that
All hope she has is being torn apart

She knows that things are wrong
Doesn't want to admit it
So many things are missing and she's slowly dying bit by bit
Though she has so far
Gotten along fine this way
The weight is all on us
To take the pain away

Inside she's dying
On the outside too
But her grass is still green
And her skies are still blue
Creating the illusion that she's perfectly okay
But we need to fix things if we want to see another day

A small footprint in the forest of life
Unnoticed unless searched for
Rarely stumbled upon
And hidden easily

Not less traveled,
But never traveled
Until one person decides to change that

Intersections exist
Between it and Main Street
However rare
Though it can be hard to distinguish
Between the two

The road never traveled can be something
To be desired or
To be dreaded

But it’s never wide enough
For two

He said
Life is playing games
Having fun
Hanging out
And falling in love
On long summer nights

She said
Life is quiet
Reading in the grass
Listening to the ocean
And unknowingly
Falling in love too
Literally.

My skin prickles.
Not freezing,
Just unpleasant
Moss is everywhere,
Seeming to cover everything
It can.
Trees have toppled,
Logs protrude from the water,
Those too covered in moss.
Leaves blanket the ground,
Keeping the dirt warm and unexposed.
Green is everywhere near the water,
Up here is only brown.
My skin prickles again.
I can feel the goose bumps
Push to the surface,
As though they are struggling for air.
I push my head further into my sweatshirt.
My hand cramps from the cold...

A sneeze,
A cough,
A woodpecker,
Leaves rustling,
Breathing.

The highway far off,

So different from here.

A small tree
Brushes against my leg, needles not yet
Prickly, still soft.
The damp from the moss soaks through my pants,
As though I were sitting on a sponge.
The water ripples ever so slightly.
I peer in, hoping to see some sort of creature,
But it’s only the wind.
I can see the tree canopy reflected in the pool,
Perfect images wavering
Only slightly,

I shine the flashlight a little further ahead of me. Up, down, I spin around, making sure every tree gets a chance to be in the spotlight. Everything seems clear, though one can never be sure. I hear every squish of my feet on the damp ground; all the mushy pine needles damp from the afternoon's storms. Right now, I wish I was one of those pine needles. When you think of them, you realize that they have nothing to be afraid of. They are prettly much there forever. Especially in a place where there are few living things, like where I am now. But I continue along the path, keeping the beam right in front of my feet. I don't want to see or hear anything other than my own footsteps, as I shuffle though the woods to the only bathroom in this middle-of-nowhere campground.
My therapist thought that this would help me deal with my paranoia.

The family

They wake up as farmers
And do the morning chores
While others
Are still asleep
Then they all go off
To lead their double lives

She

Goes to school
A student
Comes home
A farmer
As she feeds the sheep

Her mother

Goes to work
A nurse
Comes home
A farmer
While she delivers a lamb

Her father

Goes to work
A teacher
Comes home
A farmer

I make myself
wonder
if I even have a voice
I heard them talking about her
and I didn't say anything

I can think of a million things

I could have
I should have
said
or
done

but that was then

and they got away with it again

the sun
streams
through
the window

as the snow
drip
drip
drips
off the roof

finally it's spring
and the snow is melting

but that was yesterday

I never knew
that here
a place so near
to there

The fog
hangs
in
silence

surrounding me
and gliding over my skin

leaving tiny beads of moisture
clinging for their life
for if they fall
they will lose their individuality
and join the puddle below my feet

a deep breath
really is
a breath of fresh air
not
an air freshener
of just chemicals

and for a moment

she
tightens the straps
of her
gold stilettos

I
tighten the laces
of my
red converse

she
wears
a t-shirt from Hollister

I
wear
my sister's used shirt
from a brand I've never heard of

I'm

okay with that

I
lie
sprawled out
across the floor
the phone in my hand
waiting for her
to finally
call
me

it rings
it's not for me

it rings again but
it's still not her

it rings again
and it's her

will she
finally
listen to my apology

i say it
as fast as
i can
with tears in my eyes

someone laughs
and hangs up