11-18-2012, 09:50 PM
Hi guys.
Thanks for your thoughtful replies. I'll go back and mull them over. This is more of a quick acknowledgment.
First off, I have to say--omg, if this could be mistaken for teen-age angst, then it's a big fat fail. I don't even know what teen-age angst is, actually, probably a few levels "up" from what I've lived with. It sounds like the "depression" version of "puppy love."
Todd--Glad you understood the "i" and the "You" thing. I always write them properly by default.
I want to reiterate that this poem has ceased to be very personal for me. It wasn't painful to write--it was a relief. Poetry isn't painful, it's a relief of pain. I just had a kind of mission with this poem, unconsciously, then maybe later a little more consciously. I wanted people, who are so judgmental, sitting up on their "high horses" and ... what I call the "emotionally elite" (who had upbringings that were too good for them to have any compassion for those who were less fortunate) who get all freaked out when you talk about suicide and stuff like that--instead of being compassionate and loving (or at least understanding), they make your depression about them and how creepy and bad you are for bringing your depression into their awareness. So I just wanted people like that to step into my 24/7 reality. I called it my living death.
It felt great when I wrote it, which was many years ago and I felt it represented my emotional life very well, and that pleased me. Now, however, it seems so wordy to me and maybe I will take your suggestions and just kind of write it over.
Thanks for your thoughtful replies. I'll go back and mull them over. This is more of a quick acknowledgment.
First off, I have to say--omg, if this could be mistaken for teen-age angst, then it's a big fat fail. I don't even know what teen-age angst is, actually, probably a few levels "up" from what I've lived with. It sounds like the "depression" version of "puppy love."
Todd--Glad you understood the "i" and the "You" thing. I always write them properly by default.
I want to reiterate that this poem has ceased to be very personal for me. It wasn't painful to write--it was a relief. Poetry isn't painful, it's a relief of pain. I just had a kind of mission with this poem, unconsciously, then maybe later a little more consciously. I wanted people, who are so judgmental, sitting up on their "high horses" and ... what I call the "emotionally elite" (who had upbringings that were too good for them to have any compassion for those who were less fortunate) who get all freaked out when you talk about suicide and stuff like that--instead of being compassionate and loving (or at least understanding), they make your depression about them and how creepy and bad you are for bringing your depression into their awareness. So I just wanted people like that to step into my 24/7 reality. I called it my living death.
It felt great when I wrote it, which was many years ago and I felt it represented my emotional life very well, and that pleased me. Now, however, it seems so wordy to me and maybe I will take your suggestions and just kind of write it over.