They scream in my head all wanting the attention to be on them
They never stop
Some days are worse than others
Me! Me! Me!
Pay attention to Me!
Don’t listen to the others
(Unless of course I can band the others together
And make you listen to our universe alone
Then we can all be supreme,
Though my part first as it was my idea)
There is not one
There could never be one
How could an entire universe only consist of one
Maybe there are places where one muse is enough
Where a few muses
One for each genre
Could tackle a whole series of stories with one voice
But not me
Too many at times
They all want attention
They don’t want to share
For my sanity
They do not care.
When I first learned how to drive most of my friends were jealous because, as one of the eldest amongst us, I was able to get my permit and then my license first.
“You’re lucky to be free before us” they would tell me. I disagreed.
“Driving isn’t freedom, guys, not in my family.”
Driving in my family is not freedom. It wasn’t when I was a teenager first learning and it still isn’t now that I’m an adult and unable to drive. When we learned to drive it meant that there was another person who could run errands for Mom. It was one more service that you were going to be offering.
My friends at the time didn’t understand, mostly because most of them were either single children or the last child with only one or two older siblings. Only one friend understood even if it didn’t apply to her as the youngest child in her family where everyone was able to drive.
I used to think it was something that those with large families only shared. I mentioned this around my mother, who is the youngest of three and there is a seven year age gap between her and her next closest sibling.
“Mother didn’t drive,” Mom said, “So Dad was really happy when I finally learned how to drive. He used the company car-
(This is actually a thing that does exist, or it did at one point.)
“-so he made me my own copy and I drove the family car on every errand that Mother wanted or needed to go on.”
So it wasn’t just a large family thing after all.
Do we ever think about what we are doing?
What are the possible outcomes of actions that we take?
What is the point of our actions if we are not willing to accept the consequences of them?
Is there a point?
Would it be possible to really do something without the consequences?
Would you even want to try?
Would it be worth it if it meant nothing?
What if you tried it?
Decided that it didn’t matter
Because if you wanted it to matter
Then you wouldn’t have done it
Or you told yourself that
But only to justify your choice
Because you don’t want to see
That you have chosen what to be
Why do I question?
Why do I care?
This is just too much to bear
But I want to know what will happen
Should I choose to something do
When the consequences of my actions
Will instead of on me come down on you
That’s not quite right
Because there will consequences be
I thought that the reason behind the action
Was that there would be nothing to see
Side effects can’t be ignored
They can’t be stopped
If you want to make the actions
The consequences will come
I’m sitting at the end of the hall and learning some things from listening in on what’s going on in the main room.
“I was in the 7th grade when President Kennedy was assassinated.”
“I was in the 7th grade when the World Trade Center Towers fell.”
The first sentence was my mom.
The second sentence was my younger sister.
They are the two people in my family that are the most alike in personality.
Just another realization in my life.
Today I am thankful for all of the journals that I was given as a teenager. Without them I would have surely run out before now and then I would be left wondering just what I did with my early twenties.
Journal keeping is one of the things that I do to help me with my memory and some of them are hilarious while others make me weep and still others help me realize that I have changed far more than I ever thought possible.
Check out the original Thankful Thursday. (I will fix the link when I am able.)
EDIT: Link updated as of March 7, 2015
I’ve always read that a person who wears their heart on their sleeve is more honest, but what if they’re using that knowledge to make you think that?
Inspired by a story about someone going feral that I’ve read recently.
Just a quick word before I run out of time!
I will only be able to check my blog on Saturdays because there are more problems with the internet going up than we initially predicted. I will still be here, but my weekly blogs will be pre-scheduled like the last week has been. This post itself was written last Saturday and then pre-scheduled for today. Once I get the hang of this I’ll be putting out posts that are from prompts again (though I’ll still put out posts that aren’t from prompts as well).
Thank you for your time!
(Also, the move went well with only a few bumps which I will post about week when I’m able to come again to the city library on Saturday. Thank you to everyone who wished me well!)