I am spending the day, as planned, cleaning my office (with on and off assistant from a friend). I found this poem I wrote in 10th grade of High School. The minute I laid eyes on it I knew I wanted to post it here, but upon reading it in detail it seemed even more relevant than I could have intended.
Song of Myself
Of me I write and the World I see and no one else upon it,
My age is of no significance, and my looks powerless;
I say what matters is what we think, and not what is,
And the power of the mind is stronger than resistance.
I, Amanda ----, insignificant almighty Daughter of America,
Logical, improvisational, insane, listening, thinking and creating,
A Friend, no more important than those I acquaint with,
No more codependent than independent.
Of Philosophy and Psychology I sing,
Where nothing and no where is my soul,
And nothing and no where is all that is not my Soul,
Where thoughts and Ideas flow freer than water.
Freedom rings here and here is all that matters,
As I see tiny Children beg their Mothers for toys,
And Doctors crane vicariously over Dying patients.
Families and People of all kinds flock to steepled churches and dignified synagogues,
Old men and tired workers gather at holy benches to beg Mercy
From some almighty being whose Existence is improbable, and Power, impossible.
A delusional 30 year old scribbles incomprehensible loops in worn thin coloring books;
A famous author pounds out another best selling novel;
A toddler speaks his first word as the single mother cheers him on;
I see the world, and hope it cannot see me.
I see the sharp sting of Suicide that affects only the living,
For the dead are gone and cannot regret their actions.
And I see the social ladder climbed only by the simpletons,
Just as deadly as suicide, leading to self destruction.
Humanity protests my perspective,
Yet I know that I am infinitely flawed, and myself all alone;
And what I say matters to me, is all that matters;
And even that, is nothing,
Just as I am nothing.
- Written by Amanda, 1/06/2000