I Feel

I Feel

Melissa Dallago

I feel angry, repulsed and just plain mad.

I feel ignored, rebuffed, and dismissed as if I am unimportant.

I feel silenced, stared at, and thought to be strange.  

I feel stunned, numbed, and sometimes just plain the dumb.

My soul feels annihilated, hated and despaired.

I’m drained and disdained.

I feel like a freak, a geek and I’ll openly admit that I’m a nerd.

I’m weak, meek and unable to bespeak of my ills and pains.

I feel as if there is no light, no respite from the calamities of life.

I feel rude, lude and just plain crude.

I feel outside, removed and alone.

I know none of these feelings are ultimately true, but boy they are all I feel in repose.

I’m a cynic, a curmudgeon.

I am made of steel and unbendable.

Yet underneath, I’m a roiling mass of emotions, soft and squishy, made up of unhealed wounds, unfinished 

dreams, and unfulfilled hopes and desires.

I’m a dichotomy of opposites, each warring against the other.

Not really sure which way to go, but make it up as I go.

There is light, there is hope that does shine through intermittently.

The two things that keep me sane are faith and love.

Faith that things always workout somehow and love of this life for it is all I have this one time around.

I’m tired, I’m beaten. 

I’m a fighter who no matter how many times I am knocked will get back up for another round.

No matter what I will not quit until my last breath has left my body, and I will travel on to see what all this fuss, all these emotions, and all this strife is really about.

These feelings are proof that I exist.

I think therefore I am.  I feel therefore I am.

I am human, fallible and unique; never quite complete, an ongoing work in progress.

I feel alive.