posted May 03, 2007 05:36 PM         

To write out my frustration and lack of understanding of myself.

I lashed out at you.
As in days gone past when
I hadn't learned to express those feelings
repressed for me until I'd been trained
to do it on my own.
Replaced with fear and anger.

"Is the point to have an audience?"
you enquire of me

"Yes." I answered, "Yes, it is."

That was the point for so long.
It made me feel
important
loved
as though I mattered
and
there was a purpose for my existance
other than
being the dumping ground
for my mother's frustration.

Is this currently the point?

I am torn in two.

One says "Yes, still it is."
The other replies "No, there is more to be experienced."

The Vivaldi plays on in the background.

I weep.