Criss-crossed Memories and Chaos (Part 6 ~ B) YOU SUCK! SO I DECIDED!

 

Hmm. Perhaps it’s just that I have no patience and I just have allowed for enough time yet? Yes, that must be it; it hasn’t even been 24 hours yet. (YOU ALL LEFT ME HANGING, BTW!)  It’s been days now. But that’s fine, I made a choice, she looks fine and it finally got done. Waiting on responses, she never would’ve, lesson learned.

 

SO, where did we leave off? New school, Eden Prairie, Chris Ross and Sonja Chenard; ah yes, sophomore year ~ Happy, happy, joy, joy, oh wait! Last poem we discussed was ‘Alone’; that doesn’t sound particularly happy now, does it? “The Search” was written around this time, inspired by Chris because we were both lost for a while, and he would sometimes show up at my bedroom window when he needed a friend.

 

The Search

 

Where the sun

goes down,

and all is

quiet,

the thought

is of flight;

from them,

from Here,

from there.

 

But is leaving

the answer?

Yes, it is the

only way.

There is peace

elsewhere,

But where?

Definitely not here,

certainly not there.

 

Beyond is

is the only place;

somewhere between

here and there,

away from all.

 

It’s known

and shall be

found,

as the

bright light

shines.

 

Say not

“Good-bye”,

but

“Another Day,

another place,

another world.”

 

   Another day,

another place,

another world.

 

Copyright ©1986

 

 

Chris had a knack for inspiring poems based on the feelings deep down that I didn’t want to admit; not even to myself.

 

Now, the details surrounding the next set of memories and poems are very sketchy; I’m not entirely sure where the poems fit other than by the year; and I don’t actually recall who inspired them either. During a summer, I dated a guy name Jim Blaisedale; however I can’t recall if it was the summer before or after my sophomore year. Not a huge deal, he didn’t inspire any poems the first time we dated, which is surprising since he cheated on me, but I wasn’t entirely me, and apparently there are only two of us that I am aware of who write poetry. And Kai only writes when she is emotionally “super-charged” so-to-speak which usually means she is close to ‘running away from reality’; so she doesn’t write too often. She tends to start something, get a stanza, maybe two, and then just leaves it, so I usually finish them for her. Anyway, Blaisedale is a footnote at this point merely because he turns up again down the road in another year or two.

 

I did meet a guy at Saints Roller Skating rink during one of the all-nighter deals that they did on the weekends however. His name was Jim Kasper, he was a year younger than me and he lived in the boys group home in Bloomington. I think he inspired a few poems due to the long-distance aspect of our relationship, plus the fact that we couldn’t always talk due to the rules at the group home. The first of these was “Loneliness.”

 

Loneliness

 

The distance between us

does tear at my heart.

I wish we were together

rather than far apart.

 

Each night I cry

as I think of you,

are your nights lonely

without me too?

 

I dream of the passionate

love we could make,

and I pray our togetherness

is our written fate.

 

The thought of life without

you by my side,

Breaks my heart and makes

me want to die.

…I Love You…

Copyright ©1986

 

 

The relationship had its difficulties, especially where communicating was concerned. We mostly wrote letters back and forth through the mail, so when the letters went from 1 every day to 1-2 a week, I started getting depressed, which inspired the next short but sweet piece:

 

Where Are You?

 

Are you out there?

I am here.

I miss you so…

Copyright ©1986

 

I can’t honestly say I remember our break up, and I think this all happened at a different time frame; but again, fuzzy memory strikes! So I can only go by the poems, and the next two poems are “Break Up” and “The Great Fall.”

 

Break Up

 

Jealousy fills me,

I just want to scream.

How could he do this?

It’s so cruel, so mean.

 

I loved him purely,

I gave him my heart.

Then behind my back

He tore it apart.

 

What will I do?

How can I go on?

I’d never cared so deeply,

I’d never loved so strong.

 

Why did he leave me?

©1986

 

The Great Fall

 

The fall is great

where does it end?

So intense is my fear,

as the fall goes on.

 

I see others on the way down,

all happy and laughing and loving.

The fall is so lonely,

as is the cause of the fall.

 

I must be nearing the ground

I hear the cries of others,

their hearts as broken as mine,

causing them too, to fall from-

Cloud Nine…

Copyright ©1986

 

Memories, memories…Roxanne, meeting Jim and another at Saints, Holiday super-store, shop-lifting, BUSTED!! Of course, Spring Break Sophomore year! Now I remember, some of it at least as it pertains to the relationship with J. Kasper (I think I just called him Kasper-My friendly Ghost-our private joke).

It was a Friday night, lock in at Saints and Spring Break started the following Monday. Roxy and I were meeting our fellers at Saints, but we needed film for our cameras, so we stopped at the Holiday and attempted to swipe a few discs. However, as we got outside and started to cross the street, store security nabbed us (Moral of this here paragraph-Crime does not pay!)!

Naturally, our parents were called, we were screwed and due to some personal shit I had going on in my head, the minute my folks and I were outside, I ran! I had already taken my flats off and tucked them into the inside pocket of my Levi’s Jean jacket and was rather fast in my stocking feet; I booked it as fast as I could behind Saints and dove into one of the dumpsters-the last place my pa (step-da Skip) would ever think Miss Prissy me would ever stoop to hide-and waited until he headed back to my ma.

So I was on the run for 3 nights and 2 ½ days during which time I had colored my hair jet black so as to disguise myself a bit. I crashed at my friend Dan Hambre’s the first night, and in the entry of a security door apartment building the second night; there was a cubby under the stairs which I had pried open so I could hide. Another friend, Jeff Ranum, whom had bought me the hair-dye, also gave me a bunch of old clothes to pile on for warmth so I wouldn’t freeze when his folks caught him trying to hide me in his room.

At any rate, by Monday afternoon, I was pretty miserable, cold and hungry-I called my mom. She came to pick me up at a bowling alley in Bloomington driving right past me her first time around until she saw my arms waving spasmodically. Turning around, she came back and pulled into the lot of the alley so I could climb in the car and she gave me hug as we both cried for a few minutes. Pulling away, she asked if I was alright, which I confirmed I was aside from cold, hungry and ashamed.

“You realize that’s an ugly color on you, don’t you? I can’t believe you did such a thing to you beautiful blonde hair.” And with that she put the car in gear and began the ever-so-long and silent 45 minute drive home.

 

…to be continued…

  

♥ ♥ ♥ ~ Kyla ~ ♥ ♥ ♥

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