Saturday, September 12, 2009

The Song Remains the Same

I spent some time yesterday perusing my old journals. One of my earliest journals (Age 9) contained so many gothy gems. I didn't have a photo of myself at that age handy, so the above Minnie Mouse imitation will have to suffice. It is clear that I had a flair for dramatics. Here is a sampling, presented exactly as it was written (don't judge, I was 9):

The sky is blue
Yet I see it as black
The trees are in bloom
Yet I see them as withered
The bluebirds sing out in perfect melody
Yet I only hear mockingbirds shrieking in mockery

When it is day
I feel it is night
And when it is night
I'm alone in my cold tomb
I was born as a love child
Yet I wish I'd been aborted
I tell people I'm happy
When I'm truly in horrid pain

No one understands
This dark world of mine
No one can hear
The screams of terror
That enter the tunnels of my ears

No one can feel
The depth
The oppression
The intensity of my fears
No one lives the way I do
In a gnawing anticipation
Of what the future holds

For myself
And also for you.....

Jeez! I guess I was worried about stuff. Is this how all 9 year olds secretly feel?

I could post more of these sad little poems....but they are pretty much all the same- I was depressed, felt alone and contemplated suicide. I wrote about things I had not experienced as well, like war and abortion. I quoted lyrics form The Velvet Underground, Jimi Hendrix, The Doors and The Smiths (that was my limited lyrical reference database at the time). I also wrote down many Dylan Thomas and Edgar Allen Poe poems. I think you get the general idea.


gabby said...

Lord.. i think I was wondering when the spice girls were coming to America, and how I was going to get my hands on a sanrio backpack!! I love reading your blog Erin!!!

erin said...

Ahahahahah! Thanks Gabby!! xoxo

roya said...

erinneeee. first of all, i always knew you had a flair for dramatics and talent for writing. damn. you have blown me away with your blog. secondly, i am heartbroken and sad to hear what your 9 year old poem speaks... sad. sad. sad.... so glad you are here. love you.

erin said...

royeeee! xoxoxo