Baby Steps

    I know this is different from what I normally post but I decided to venture out from the norm. I might do that a little more, I think. As you all know, every so often I post poems I've written. Some of them I wrote back when I played music in garage bands. Those were intended to be songs. I think they might be easy to point out if you pay much attention to the patterns, they usually come with a chorus. The others are more recent. I like writing them because I feel I'm letting it all out, sorta speek. I don't really allow myself to have too many people to talk to about certain events of my life. It's not like I really enjoy talking about certain things anyway. After all, I am just like anyone else: I hide more than I should.
    I don't know how many people read these or how often, but that doesn't really matter. I guess I write more for myself. Maybe I'll make a book out of them someday, who knows. If you are one who reads, thank you, I appreciate it. But please, don't read too much into each one. Some are only my own depiction about someone else's situation. But only some. I do tend to put a little of my own life into each one that isn't about my experiences, though. That's just habit of writing what I know.
    The first time I ever wrote for myself was when my parents were planning on a divorce. I was in a very strange and dark part of my life then. I was hanging out in the wrong places with the wrong people. But afterall, I just turned eighteen, two days after my parents just moved to Texas and I was on my own with nowhere to live but random houses of freinds and aquintences. I will admit that drugs were a part of my confusion in life, too. I am human. Do not judge.
    It wasn't long after that my father past away. That was the real beginning of life. Everything I thought I knew, everything that made sense, all seemed to get wadded up into this big ball of nothing like some big black hole sucking any sort of light out my world. I suddenly had to deal with a big part of life which ironically is just the opposite, death. There was nothing that could make me feel like I was getting anywhere in dealing with this until I found music, playing music and writing songs. Little did I know, I would have to experience the loss of loved ones again and again.
    I sometimes feel cheated, you know? I'll hear a story once in a while about how someone went here or there with their father, whether it be camping, fishing, vacation or even just golfing, and I get a little jeolous. That's usually when I drift off into a thought about how nice it would be to still have him around and then I think, "What kinds of things would we do together?" There are those moments, too, when I hear someone bicker and complain about how they don't like something about their father. I just want to slap them in the face to make them realize how fortunate they still are. I would give anything for five minutes! I guess we only know life by experience.
   Well, I guess the whole point of this is me. I'm opening up a little more. That is only a small piece of the puzzle that is me, I know. Baby steps. I might sometimes hide behind some artful words I glued together and posted on a blog that no one reads just to get the feeling of satisfaction out but this worked, at least at this moment. I might regret it in the morning. A feeling I know all too well....