“…and that’s my presentation.”
'Yes,' said K., thinking how frankly he used to give his name and what a burden it had recently become to him; nowadays people he had never seen before seemed to know his name. How pleasant it was to have to introduce oneself before being recognised!
Sometimes I stand in the dark
because the light screams too loudly
that I’m here and I’m alive
when maybe I don’t want to be.
And I turn these thoughts into poetry
so people will think that they’re beautiful.
When really, on their own,
they’re just damn scary.
I feel lost even when I have a map
like I know the right turning
and my legs still walk me in the wrong direction.
There’s nothing I can do to change my path.
I think other people are so goddamn lucky
but I forget that most of them are walking the same path as me
and we’re all so self-involved
that we think the meaning of life revolves around us.
The meaning isn’t to do good for others;
it’s that the good gets done. And nobody cares
about your Instagram updates,
or that I get scared, sometimes.
That my voice isn’t loud enough
but when I laugh I’m too loud;
that my bones aren’t strong enough
and I’ll miss my life because I’m too afraid to turn around.
My voice doesn’t shake;
it tumbles, it crashes and it weeps all by itself.
It has a heart of its own and a mind to itself
and I wish I could tell it to be confident.
My thoughts are not linear
and they wander like gypsies
and I wish that they’d find a home
so that I could have a place to call mine.
I have just discovered Staceyann Chin and she is really something.