The Walls

I was in a bad place a few months back and wrote a lot of negative, dark poetry. Since this blog is about optimism, I hesitated to share it publicly, assuming it would be poorly received or, worse yet, discourage some of my readers.

After much thought, I opted to start posting the poetry and short stories I produced during my “dark days” to showcase the diversity of my creative efforts and to demonstrate that it is possible to overcome a bad day (or a series of bad days, in my case) through cathartic expulsion of those emotions. By putting the feelings down in words, I was able to pull them out of my chest and free myself of their weight. Writing was my therapy.

I should probably include a disclaimer, but I would hope anyone that reads my poetry, short stories, screenplays, or similar would recognize substantial creative license is taken with their production. I may write a story about child abduction but that doesn’t mean I’m a criminal. I may write about death, but that doesn’t mean I am a morbid person. I choose a topic that I feel can best convey the emotions I’m feeling – the pain/emotion behind the piece is real – but the subject/context is (more often than not) completely made up.

My poems are not a diary; my stories are not a confessional. They are creative works and should be received as such. With that said, below is a poem written earlier in 2014 during a low-point in my life.

The “you” in my poem is figurative. It is a faceless person. It is my own insecurities. It is every time I opened up and was rejected. It is every bad day compiled in one.

It’s not YOU, it’s me.

Who the fuck am I kidding? It’s about you. You, you, you. And me, the idiot who fell for it.

The Walls

I built my walls for reason.
I wore my mask for cause.
For underneath the superficial,
Hid a woman lost in flaws.

I warned you she wasn’t worth it,
I warned you she was raw,
But you said you wanted everything.
You swore you wanted all.

You begged me bare my soul,
I unearthed it just for you.
I leveled all protection,
For a love you said was true.

I exposed the very blood of me,
The core of deep insecurities,
I confessed my every secret,
Your open heart to please.

You said you’d love my damage,
My scars, my honesty;
I offered everything I had,
I gave you all of me.

“Too sensitive,” you called me.
“Too selfish to understand.”
I could never find the right words,
The truth your lips demand.

I never met your expectations,
I failed to live up to reality,
You wanted a variation of yourself,
Instead, I delivered me.

I’m sorry I wasn’t what you wanted,
Not what you had in mind.
I’m sorry these scars are showing,
This little girl a waste of time.

Now to shield this broken heart,
Behind laughter and gaiety.
A new mask will be constructed,
To protect what bit remains of me.

Now to rebuild my fallen walls,
With brick, and mortar, and lies.
I will plaster back on that joyful smile,
The one that doesn’t reach my eyes.

Thank you for the lesson,
I appreciate your honesty,
For my gritty isn’t pretty,
But it’s all there was to see.

————————————–

Thank you for reading,

Victoria Elizabeth

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