[ Join Free! ]
(No Spam mail)

  • RolePlay
  • Join Us
  • Writings
  • Shoutbox
  • Community
  • Digg Mashup
  • Mp3 Search
  • Online Education
  • My Youtube
  • Ear Training
  • Funny Pics
  • nav

  • Role Play
  • Piano Music
  • Free Videos
  • Web 2.0
  • nav

    << | >>

    dots Submission Name: Musingsdots

    Author: Lisa Milligan
    ASL Info:    48/F/VA
    Elite Ratio:    3.71 - 38/47/21
    Words: 2683
    Class/Type: Poetry/Me
    Total Views: 1214
    Average Vote:    No vote yet.
    Bytes: 15320

       An autobiogrpahy

    Make the font bigger!! Double Spacing Back to recent posts.



    I wonder what it would have felt like to be precious to my parents
    And to have felt cherished by them
    I wonder what it would have felt like to have their approval and respect as a child
    And an adult
    Like I the respect I have shown my son
    I wonder what it would have been like to learn to trust
    Because I was shown their affection
    Instead of being called a spoiled wretch
    I wonder what it would have been like
    If they had known how to meet my needs and make me feel safe and secure
    Instead of the priority being to run the home efficiently, like a hospital ward
    And with the type of authority of a Captain of a ship

    I wonder what it would have been like to be brought up
    Where it was acceptable to be independent
    Instead of being overprotected
    And grow to feel fear and self-doubt
    I wonder what it would have been like
    To be raised without guilt and shame
    From my parents and the nuns at my Catholic school

    I wonder why my family was surprised that I’d run away at 16
    And how I knew it would save me
    I was afraid at night when I had no where to go
    I don’t think I ate very often
    I’m not sure because I have a hard time with my memory when I try to recount those days
    I wonder why it took me so long to realize who it was that took care of me during that time period when none of my friends could take me in
    As He put me on a bus, He asked me, "You haven't figured out who I am yet, have you?"
    I now know
    I wonder why my mother told the police that if they found me
    To not bring me home, but to send me to juvenile hall
    I wonder why my parents were surprised that by the time I was 46
    I’d had enough of being hurt and broke away from them…again
    I wonder my mom’s heart still tugs on mine

    I wonder what it would have felt like
    To feel my parents pride in me
    Maybe it would have soothed the anxiety and painful shyness
    I wonder if I wouldn’t have been so rejected by the kids at school
    So that I dressed in jeans and flannel shirts to hang with the boys
    Because they didn’t want me around otherwise
    Since I wasn’t pretty
    Or funny or talented because I had no idea who I was

    What was it about me that I was invisible to boys?
    Or when I was noticed, it lasted just a second, and then they were looking right through me
    At my best friend, or the pretty girl at the next locker
    Why did the boy next door hate me so much?
    Even in high school, finding out I had a crush on someone was considered a bad thing
    I wonder why boys couldn’t stand me, and then one of them told me to meet him at the baseball park
    I couldn’t believe it, so excited and nervous and happy, all at the same time
    I waited all day
    And he never showed up
    As I walked home in the dusk, all I could hear
    Was the crickets chirping
    And my quiet shaky breathing
    Because I was trying not to cry
    I was begging God that he and his friends
    Hadn’t been somewhere at the park in the woods watching me waiting around
    And laughing their asses off at the geek in the braces
    And the glasses and stringy hair who thought
    A cool guy like him would actually want to spend time with her

    I wonder if my PC at home is possessed by some gremlin that loves to mess with me
    Because when I go to work, I do most of my work on a computer
    At this point, I think I can consider myself a pro
    So why is it, when my son uses our home computer
    It works just fine
    But as soon as I sit down and use it
    I totally mess up the format of the homework he was just working on
    And software is mysteriously downloaded
    And he has to spend an hour fixing it

    I wonder why my parents were surprised I drank and got into drugs
    I wonder if the walls are still moving in that living room where we dropped acid
    And if my friends are still there, laughing their asses off
    I wonder if there’s still field parties going on
    And my friends are gathered around the keg
    Passing a joint around
    I wonder if partying is why I finally had friends
    And if that’s what made me finally look good to the guys
    I wonder if the only way they could sleep with me
    Was to be good and drunk first

    I wonder if I’ll ever fall in love with my best friend like in
    “When Harry Met Sally…”
    I wonder if I’ll ever have a best friend, besides my son
    I wonder if I’ll ever meet King Aragorn
    Viggo is gorgeous, yes that’s true
    But it’s King Aragorn I want to meet

    I wonder if a man could ever love me like Sam loved Maggie in “Sleepless in Seattle”
    And have him get down on one knee in the candle light
    Open the black velvet box that holds the diamond ring he thinks is good enough for me
    But not nearly as beautiful as I am to him
    Tell me that I’m the best thing that’s ever happened to him
    And that he can’t live without me
    And ask if I would do him the honor of becoming his wife

    I wonder what it’s like to wear a wedding gown and veil, and carry a bouquet
    Plan a wedding with my mom
    Picking out the flowers, the cake and centerpieces
    To choose a Maid of Honor and bridesmaids
    Without hurting anyone’s feelings
    And walk down the aisle with a father that doesn’t hurt me

    I wonder why my younger sister didn’t want me to be her Maid of Honor
    When I was the only one she could confide in
    Because she and this man were hiding their relationship since they were both seeing other people
    My youngest sister lived close by and this man was her husband’s best friend
    And when he unexpectedly stopped by to visit my youngest sister and her husband
    My younger sister would run over the my house
    Where we would giggle and laugh and play with her make-up and hair
    And she would ask me for advice and a pep talk before she went back over to see him
    I’m the one she called the first time they ended up at a hotel together
    I was the only one who knew about them and I was their biggest fan
    Maybe she didn’t chose me
    Because when they finally broke off their other relationships to be together
    I gave her common sense advice to be careful
    Because rebound relationships don’t usually last
    I’m her big sister and I’ve looked out for her all her life
    And I’ve never been so glad to be so wrong
    Instead she chose a Maid of Honor who isn’t even a true friend
    And has hurt her many times over the years

    I wonder if people realize that a single mom needs to be the daddy too
    Like when I get up early each morning and go out to make the money
    Or when I have to talk to my son about sex
    I bought my son his first condoms when he was 13
    As I handed them to him, I took a deep breath, summoned up all the testosterone I could muster
    And said, “This doesn’t mean that it’s OK with me for you to start having sex now.
    I want you to wait until you’re much older, or married, but I know too much about life
    To be stupid about expectations when it comes to a teenager, especially when you hit about 16.”
    I wondered at my son’s ominous tone as he said at this point, “Mother”
    It did not stop me because I had something more thing to say
    “I want you to practice putting these on.”
    I wondered as his tone then became more menacing and noticeably louder as he again said, “Mother!”
    But that did not deter me, because I’m the dad and I have to make sure all the bases are covered
    Especially the home runs
    And anyways, there was only one more thing I wanted to add,
    “Five times. I want to you practice five times. You won’t get it right the first time, trust me.
    You won’t get it right the second time. When you’re about to have sex, you don’t want to have this problem.
    It is awkward enough as it is. Five times, son. Promise me, five times.”
    I wonder why he couldn’t answer me
    He’d had an apoplexy and was lying back on his bed screaming, “MOM!”
    I wondered at that spectacle for a moment, but decided the screaming was a good sign
    And that therefore I wouldn’t need to dial 911
    Because my son hadn’t just had a stroke
    He was just really pissed at me
    But that was OK, because at least I had done my job as a dad for that year

    I wonder what I ever did right that God felt I deserved the treasure that is my son
    I wonder what my dog is dreaming about when he’s barking in his sleep
    I wonder what I ever did to deserve such decent human being for my boss after all the nightmares I've endured

    I wonder why my youngest sister that felt that me being unmarried
    Meant I wasn’t good enough to be Godmother to any of her four children
    During each pregnancy I waited expectantly and oblivious
    Because I thought we weren’t just sisters, but dear friends
    And each time I got my heart broken as I was put in my place
    Evidently being a single mother was not a good role model
    I wonder how my younger sister could do the same thing to me
    When she had to choose her first child’s Godmother
    After I’d cried on her shoulder about this repeated heartbreak

    I wonder what it’s like for your parents to hug you and celebrate
    When you tell them you’re pregnant
    Like all the times I witnessed their reactions to my siblings telling them they were going to have a baby
    I wonder what it’s like to have your father happy to have you in his home
    So he can protect you from your husband that beat you up as you held your baby
    Instead of, in a moment of needing his comfort and confiding in him about being beaten
    He walked away saying, “I don’t want to hear about that.”
    I wonder how a father could call his daughter an interloper for moving into his house
    When she’s a beaten, broke, single mother with no where else to go
    Except maybe the Battered Women’s Shelters she checked out in California
    I wonder how it can be that everything my ex-husband said to me
    Is written word for word in Chad Kroeger's songs

    I wonder how, when I was working for an aerospace company and was excited about this
    Because I’m into Astronomy
    I joked with my father that maybe I will meet a handsome astronaut to marry
    And he said, “A man like that would never want you. He wants someone educated and intelligent.”

    I wonder why people I work for that are technical and business geniuses
    Can’t find supplies in the supply cabinet
    One day, someone asked me for a stapler
    I wonder if he’d even looked in the supply cabinet yet
    He said he had, and there were none left
    I found that strange because we’d just filled up the supply cabinet
    So I went back there to check it out
    I wondered at the whole section of staplers in front of me
    And I realized, he couldn’t see the them
    Because they were in little boxes
    Marked “Staples”
    I wonder if we’d emptied the boxes, and lined them all up
    If he would have found one
    But he couldn’t see them
    Because they were camouflaged in their little boxes
    I wonder why he makes $250,000 a year

    I wonder if I’ll ever be so lucky as to meet Chris Tucker
    And get to watch him dance right in front of me
    Like he does in the Rush Hour movies
    Lordy I hope so

    I wonder if my brother will ever stop drinking
    I wonder if he’ll ever become a real man
    Or remain the spoiled, pampered little brat he’s always been
    I wonder how he could pimp his own sister out to his friends
    And why it took me so long to figure out what he'd done to me
    I wonder if he knows what narcissism is
    And that he's a perfectionist and a control-freak
    I wonder what that will do to his marriage and his children
    I wonder if he'll ever be able to say no to doing Dad's dirty work
    And contain his excitement when Dad tells them how they can screw me over
    And make it look like they are bailing me out at the same time
    Like they're heroes or something
    Heroes don't get all tangled up in their capes and fall flat on their faces
    But they did, and that sure was funny to watch
    I wonder if I'll ever get to "blow a fart in their general direction"
    I wonder if I watch too many movies

    I wonder if I'll ever be able to stop myself during those moments
    When my son makes me laugh so hard it makes me tinkle just a little bit
    He won't stop making me laugh on purpose
    He thinks that it's very funny, and he's right
    It totally cracks me up
    I wonder if it's OK that I totally crack myself up
    I wonder why, when I laugh really hard, I don't make any noise
    And then I snort

    I wonder every day now
    How it is that I have such a great life
    There were times when I would have never believed
    That life is anything but heartache and pain
    I raised my son alone into a good, decent man
    I love my home
    I have a great boss and a good job
    I wonder how I ever deserved this bounty

    I've been a drunk
    I've taken every fun pill there is
    I've smoked pot
    I've smoked PCP
    I've dropped acid
    I've snorted cocaine
    I've shot up cocaine
    I've shot up heroin
    I've been in drug rehab
    I've had sex with 5 people at once
    I've slept with too many men
    I wonder how I don't have HIV

    I've declared bankruptcy
    I picked an alcoholic to be the father of my son
    I left him and raised my son fatherless
    I never went to college
    I've been through times where I barely made enough money for us to get by
    I chose to go into debt to give my son a good life
    I've been addicted to morphine
    I've spent days going cold turkey
    And months going through narcotics withdrawal, too long
    So long that it caused post traumatic stress disorder
    And made me suicidal
    I wonder how my son could tell me at this time in my life that I'm the strongest woman he'll ever know
    I wonder why he still thinks I walk on water
    I wonder how I'm still alive
    And why God never stops loving and forgiving me
    Maybe it's because, through it all, I still believe

    Submitted on 2006-08-12 08:56:10     Terms of Service / Copyright Rules
    Submissions: [ Previous ] [ Next ]

    Rate This Submission

    1: >_<
    2: I dunno...
    3: meh!
    4: Pretty cool
    5: Wow!

    ||| Comments |||
      Good Lord.....

    I was in tears before I was halfway through this. And, I just kept going, and kept going, no matter how harder the tears fell. Because, this I see everyday with my family. *Shakes head* You just....made me feel not so alone in the world. You wrote my autobiography through your biography.

    Without the child of course....but there was supposed to be one..and sometimes I wonder if that wouldn't of been better for me.


    Awesome write.

    | Posted on 2006-08-25 00:00:00 | by BCute | [ Reply to This ]
      the childhood you experienced is much like mine i think you were right that i could relate this is very real this is life and your much older than me but i know what this is like thank you for shareing this with me i like it im gob smaked its like reading a book :P
    Rak ^)
    | Posted on 2006-08-25 00:00:00 | by dark figure | [ Reply to This ]
      I just noticed three repetition mistakes, which I'm shure you'd pick up on if you re-read this thing. There are just soo many things I could say about this... Sooo many. I've run away from home before, gone to prison for being with my father, done dope, been drunk... Well doesn't matter too much, I've done really stupid things, and been in stupid situations... And through it all, my mother still finds reasons to tell the family how I'm a let-down because I didn't score a 95 in this class, even though I could so easily, or how I'm a lying backstabber who steals money... and well... The biggest thing she's done, that has had the biggest influence on me, was tell me that she never wanted to be my friend. How can you even love a person and tell them that? And then leave them out in the middle of winter, for a good night - in a shirt mind you - when he's 7, only to come back with frostburn all over his arms...

    All the lovely things that have happened in this lifetime with her... And my brother... He's just like her.... ugh.. I'd rather not get into all of this right now......

    But I can tell you this: I am much more patient than my father, and a bigger liar than my brother. I will last my 18 years, and leave this house PROUDLY. I won't run away like my father, or like my brother... But the amount of trust that they all have in me, almost enough to fill the head of a pin.

    Alright... I'll stop being garrulous..

    P.S: A life-time wiser than I for shure.
    | Posted on 2006-09-01 00:00:00 | by Outlaw | [ Reply to This ]
      An absolutely brilliant write! It's almost the same as Linda Goodman's book Gooberz... Don't know if you've heard of it but the story takes on a life of it's own as you read it... your life. It's spookie since everyone that's every read it says it's as if it's their own lifestory.

    I had the same experience with your post. It's sad, funny, longing, poignant, very proud and very needy all at the same time. I could relate to so many of your experiences and then again not at all to some of the others.

    I agree with your son... you are amazing and I'm sure he is blessed to have you in his life.

    I wonder how long you will take to realise that you are special,
    I wonder how you don't see how awesome you are.
    I wonder when you will wake up one morning and love yourself for how far you've come.

    I hope you will heal and continue to grow.

    Keep writing.
    | Posted on 2006-10-05 00:00:00 | by Beulah | [ Reply to This ]

    Think Feedback more than Compliments :: [ Guidelines ]

    1. Be honest.
    2. Try not to give only compliments.
    3. How did it make you feel?
    4. Why did it make you feel that way?
    5. Which parts?
    6. What distracted from the piece?
    7. What was unclear?
    8. What does it remind you of?
    9. How could it be improved?
    10. What would you have done differently?
    11. What was your interpretation of it?
    12. Does it feel original?


    Be kind, take a few minutes to review the hard work of others <3
    It means a lot to them, as it does to you.




    User Name:


    [ Quick Signup ]
    [ Lost Password ]

    January 10 07
    131,497 Poems

    I have 14,000+ Subscribers on Youtube. See my Video Tutorials

    [ Angst Poetry ]
    [ Cutters ]
    [ Famous Poetry ]
    [ Poetry Scams ]

    [ Smaller ] [ Bigger ]