this is not a poem

My poetry has been really horrible lately. I don't know what it is... but re-reading it makes me cringe. Its embarrassing. I think I need to take a step back. When I read yesterday's entry I feel uncomfortable with it (and I want to delete it but I won't because I need it to remind me of what not to do). When I look at some of the early poems I feel this same way. It goes in stages. It always has.

I need to take more photographs. Its really my favourite thing (and dancing too). Other than writing, when it turns out well. Not this garbage, lately. I only write well when I'm being completely self-centered these days. I used to observe everything, everyone, the most minute details; almost invisible motions and senses. My best stuff was from 3 years ago. Its not great but should dig some of it up. I will during the holidays. Rework it. Its at home, in my "writer's craft" journal: High School. I've digressed. Maybe its just harder now because I feel like everything I write is somehow stolen from something else I've just read. Too much inter-textual insertion indirectly unanticipated influence.

I miss the days of small classes and being too afraid to speak; too scared to share my words with the circle. That feeling is still the feeling I get every time I have to put up my hand and give my opinion. I have one but its mine and I'm terrible at voicing it. I can write it out it in words for you, though, on a sheet of flimsy paper, and read it aloud from the page. But from my mind it too chaotic, un-linear, disorganized. And I know I won't say what I mean.

I've always had that problem. And my memory is terrible. Good focus, bad memory, horrible thought patterns. Its a dementia of sorts. And that terrifies me. Early onset. My Grandma had Altzheimer's... skips a generation and more common in women. I need to develop my mind more. And drink a lot more Green Tea. It tastes good any ways. It will be a New Year's Resolution. For a new day. More.

Because 5 minutes after I watch a movie I forget it. I forget the main character's name.

At least my grammar isn't terrible. And I can spell (but not this late at night). And I'm always thinking. About everything I see... I repeat the image in my head through words. So visual. But then I forget the sentence I create before I can write it down. But no one would read it so its just for myself.

Self.
Selfish.
Self-- I don't act selfishly outwardly. Only inwardly because I never fully share myself with anyone anymore. Not even 1,13,1,12,4,1. (I miss her)

Not sharing.
And that just hurts ME.


my window is open and its cold outside.



i want to write a poem. but i'm not going to let this turn into another mess.