signed unauthenticated
a comment left by someone whose courage fell short of leaving their name. it's no matter, it provided me with a chuckle. obviously, i must have hit a nerve, perhaps it was the vagus...that's a pretty important one...
it's funny because this is one of two less than stellar comments i've received in all my days at deardiary, i've been here for about a year and a half.
i wasn't aware that the audience was waiting for my soft side. i didn't know you cared, to see low moonbeams shining through my hair...were you looking for smoothe rose petals to dance in the air? for me to toss the fancy, sprinkle it everywhere?
i can be as easy as a summer's day, sleeping on a porch hammock, softened by scented love letters delivered through the hail...did you want to see the soft curves of my hips? the thoughtful side of my face? how long eyelashes balance pearl drop tears?
did you want to hear about the ever present blue? how it came in and set up camp, became a comfortable habit? or how i dodge the blacks, always at my tail? how i duck into dark corners, giving the slip to hell?
how i wake each morning with all the rest, how i pour my sugarless coffee, and search for apartment keys in vain, how i fumble with the iron and avoid cat furred black slacks, only to get the sticky roller to clean myself up again...
how i remembered the cackle of a laugh, how it flattened me a year ago today..how i loved it with all my heart, but it left me stranded in the dark...
i am as anonymous as you. my life a mere glimpse of what's written here. and i am more than softness, more than hard edged stone...
i am the freaky lady, the anal sac expressing fingers. i can be as loud as medusa's face, as quiet as a lamb. life isn't all confetti, it isn't all balloons. it's also the gunshot in the backyard, the pauper wearing rags...
my inner voice is sometimes low. sometimes it's screaming like a siren. but it always leaves a name. she calls herself jane.