From boy to woman

Where did he go?!?!? The boy I use to be? No this is not a pre-op, hormone treatment situation. This is me losing site of me! A part of me that I clung to as a child and through those horrid awkward teenage years that are oh so dreadful...you know the ones. Arms that seem to lash out uncontrollably like that of a baby, hair that always seems to stick up, out, here, there and everywhere. Legs that take strides too small for a big world and knees that seem to be plastered with a sign that says, "bruise here". I was the girl that was every boy's best friend. I could out spit you, out run you and when rare childhood moments of privacy allowed, out cuss you. I could catch the quickest bugs, find the best hiding spots and belch my ABC's like no other. I could ride my bike..."look! no hands!", down the steepest hills with not a hint of fear upon my face. I could dig the best holes, build the most spectacular forts and shoot anything my bb gun came in contact with. I could do anything you could do only better. I never complained about the dirt under my barely there finger nails or the shooting pain down my legs from running to every destination in a four block radius. I was the King.
So where did he go? The boy in me who never cried and never backed down from a good game of knuckles? I guess he is stored away upon a shelf like the books you've read and only glance at occasionally with the passing thought,"it(he) was a good book, I loved that book." and walk away. Just a very clear memory that is remembered with a fondness not fond enough to attempt again, possibly in fear of it never being as good as it once was. Is it worth chancing?
Now I am a grown women who worries how my breasts fill out my sweater and if the glossy shade of my lip gloss is in season.Funny how things change. Where I once took pride in my dirt ridden fingernails, I now cringe at the sight of anything, even a smudge, tainting my ruby red nails. And bugs? Don't get me started. I would rather run d
o
w
n
h
i
l
l
naked then glimpse the hairy little legs of any peculiar insect stricken with the ulterior motive of sending me into a somewhat entertaining panic.
This little boy is lost. He is gone. I only just noticed this today as I was hammering nails and painting walls. It was a grievous job and it was not done by that little boy! It was done by me...who loves all things that glitter, sparkle and shine.

So if we could all take a moment to say a disquieting good-bye to our lost little boys........trade in our G.I. Joes for our Mary Jane pumps and tune in to Gossip Girl.....some things were just not meant to be.

Will you forgive me

When I say I don't know you?

As all that you've taught me,

I can now never show you?

Will you forgive me,

When I question your choice?

The one you made,

As you'd screamed,

with a silent voice?

Will you forgive me

as I cry in my bed

Covering my ears,

to hush the chatter in my head?

Will you forgive me when I curse at your name,

Judging you weak

As to me you've brought shame.

Will you forgive me when your pictures are torn,

as at times though I miss you, I sadly feel scorned?

Will you forgive me

When I wish you'd come back,

To explain what I missed,

And as a daughter,

I lacked?

Will you forgive me

as I dub you the culprit,

Struggling to continue,

When you had just quit?

Will you forgive me,


or can you not say?

As you left us to wonder,

While you went away?

Will you forgive me,

if I dread my wedding?

While you are worldy

your pain you are shedding?

Will you forgive

If I cant forgive you?

For all that you've done,

And all that you will never do?

Will you forgive me,

As I bravely embrace the pain,

Look to the sky,

And welcome the rain?

Allison




You know who you are, or who you were. If one day you could find the know how, the why and the justification for leaving without saying goodbye.....that's all I would need.

Familiar Strangers Amongst us

Well here I am in my fourth month at my new house and I have yet to familiarize myself with my busy neighbors. On my left is an older couple who adorn and clutter their yard with the strangest, rarest and most poisonous plants and call it 'landscaping'. The head of the house is a frail looking man who is stricken with cancer. He walks tall and has a pleasant and confident voice that gives no indications of the betrayal his body has coldly put upon him. He seems content cozying up in his modest house as frequenting outside is not a continual habit of his. Though some days, early in the morning I am awoken by the horn of a car and I know that he is being carpooled to radiation for his cancer.
The lady of the house is a petite women with a smoker's laugh and a too husky for her size voice. She is commonly uncommon and easy to miss. I shamefully avoid eye contact at all costs as what could I possibly have in common with this woman? Very few occasions am I able to get my super human senses and abilities up to par and dismiss her completely...as my face flashes a smile and deceives my desire for aloofness. At those times I find myself in a meet and greet upon the invisible line that divides our yards. I nod when appropriate, laugh when appropriate and do a pretty convincing job of acting engaged in our 'conversation'. Attempting not to judge this woman of such small statue in her over sized flannel shirts, I all the while am taking barely noticeable steps back to the eventual safety and normalcy of my own house.
When I have accomplished leaving the chatty woman without appearing rude or disinterested, I am overcome with a shamefulness. Why I wonder, as I sit and log in to my online networking site, am I so quick to dismiss this woman, her husband and their awful cluttered yard ? Hmmm...I give it little thought as I respond to the pile up of messages awaiting me from my 'friends' Over 20 messages I have?!?!? It will take eons to answer them all....had I have come in sooner I would have had more time to properly respond and approve my 'friend' requests. So many friends so little time. These friends only have on average, 2 smiles each, 3 facial expressions of any variance as that is all the pictures on their profiles allow me to see. Out of 137 friends (and growing!)I estimate approximately 4 of them to be people I have physically met and conversed with outside of these cyber walls. I type, type type away getting to know people who I will most likely never meet and will surely never really know. Why this is so crucial to my very existence I am not certain. Yet it is. I live and breath for the life I am open to living with no barriers other than a low battery. How could I trade that for real life? When I am sick no one can see that...only a picture plastered for all to see, if any one were to care to look. No one can see that I am rolling my eyes as they done on about the latest and the oldest.
Yes, I admit, there is no real rhyme or reason to my(our) cyber life's and addictions but could that be the true appeal of it all? Don't we find glamour in what we can not touch, taste or even get a small whiff of? If I understood it, what would then peak my interets? Is it not easier to say and describe who you want to be than to actually be who you really are? When,if and before I come to terms with this I still know that if my neighbors who I can not take the time to know or care for can find the time to know and care for me, I have to learn to unplg and go live.