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


Got more to say to the Optimist?

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s