Lately, when I write,
I feel guilt sitting next to me.
Writing is often very easy for me,
and oddly enough I feel
a sense of shame that it is.
Maybe by writing this,
instead of ignoring it,
the guilt will leave.
I think it’s already helping. Thinking of people close to me being jealous of my recent writing achievements has had a negative affect. Writing the above helped me to pin-point where the shame and feelings of guilt originated from.
Life is a funny thing that crawls on your face when you wish it to be over. Gathering sentiment as it forces your mouth open while screaming down your throat. You can’t wake up when the option is gone.
The large wooden door opened fully- we hiding behind- hadn’t known until now. Expressing details as a polished adult will do- we learned for the first time we were poor. Now we struggle. Only the flowing brook shares kindness without shame. -M. Taggart copyright 2016.
While at a pub I watched an older couple split the bill. The man had asked to do so. I heard shame in his voice. I was reading and his shame brought me to listen. While it’s not my business, I understand the shame, and I want to tell him it’s fine. I observed and I wrote the moment within my mind and then the bartender dropped a glass into the bucket beneath the bar and it hit a plate so soundly that many of the patrons looked up. I wondered further how to write this well. The patrons had been in their own conversations, eating, and drinking. The sound brought them together. I watched as faces exchanged glances; a few smiled, some said hello. Recently I wrote ‘When writing don’t forget to live’ and this is what I had intended to convey.
Don’t be ashamed. Let’s be Decent- make father be decent. What’s decent? Hair cut just right? Clean shaven? Maybe it’s mom. She might need to smile more. Or pose. Yes, let mom pose. For who? Jim, the neighbor? Or, maybe for Jenn, the Mayor? It’s nothing really. Yet here we are thinking about how to not be ashamed. If maybe Dad get’s a new car that’ll do it. But…then again, he’d need a new job. And because the job he has is barely enough, it might not happen. So, how about mom? She’s doing good. She doesn’t get home till late because of her hours, but maybe that’ll do us. There’s a new car in the future and that’ll do. It’s good. Really. If mom only works a bit more, and dad works consistent, then maybe I won’t be ashamed and I’ll feel decent.