I don't know if anyone reads my blog anymore, and I wouldn't blame you if you stumbled across this and though, Well, here's that old thing I used to read... I doubt it will be kept up.
The most important audience, to me, will read it. Gabe's icicle blue eyes will read it, devouring a little piece of home. Colton will read it and have something to say, every time. Alexis and I share a brain, so I bet we will talk at length about certain entries. Berea will bring logic to each post, and mom will have a joke to fit the topic. Jen might even pop in occasionally. And there are several freinds I know who may 'like' some writings on my Facebook link.
I used to guage the sucess of my blog on the sheer number of viewers I had each day. For a while, it swelled up into the thousands, with chat rooms and bogs commenting raucously on the details of our recent broken home. Complete strangers berated each individual in our family, while some gave undying support. It became too much when I realized how bitter I had become and how sickening it felt to log on each morning.
Now, my success will be the beauty of each piece I create. The motivation will come from the sense of accomplishment, of making something beautiful in a way that I find I can. And all judgements will be checked at the door, filtered for the sake of those I love, and uniquely addressed from time to time.
Thursday, April 4, 2013
There is something like comfort
In this derelict routine
Savoring the familiar
And breathing in the sensations
As I walk these barren halls
Past the morgue, the cafeteria
That screams out aromas
To tantalize my malnourished body
Others also follow the worn tracks
We all murmur "good morning"
And plaster our smiles on
With all the bravery of a masquerade
I unlock the door to my office
Bite into a crisp Gala apple
Feel it's skin scrubbing my teeth
And let the flavor linger on my lips
We attend muster, same as any day
Dressed in the same tired blues
Listen to the announcements we all know by heart Then branch off to our well known seats
The only new thing I can brag of
Is a new background on my screen
A new song on the radio
A fresh ache in my bones
The delicate warmth of caramel
Whispers through my senses
As I think of how I miss you
And it's the best part of this routine
It's what I do