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| Welcome ! | Home · FAQ · Topics · Web Links · Your Account · Submit Poetry · Top 30 · OldSite Link | 29-May 18:23:05 AEST | ||
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Array
(
[sid] => 43012
[catid] => 1
[aid] => mick
[title] => too busy to know who i am
[time] => 2004-04-13 10:30:23
[hometext] => A friend asked me what my favourite food was, and I didn't know, it scared me that I had never found the time to ask myself such questions.
[bodytext] => Surrounded by people, they ask for my assistance Too many people, but I make time Too busy, no sleep Too busy, no time to call mine No time to sit, no time to think: Why am I doing this? What would I like to do? What is my favourite food? Too busy, too busy Too tired, I leave I escape to sleep Now I am the one who needs help To figure out who I am Time to think With too much time I learn to love But time runs out and I must leave Return to people who seek my assistance ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------- I feel this is one of my poorer poems for the fact it doesn't explain itself, however I suppose the poem was written for me, and I understand it, however since I’m publishing it, I thought I’d quickly fill in a few details. I am a student but over the years have become widely known as an 'expert' on computers, so i volunteer much of my time to help others or to fix their computers (sometimes paid, sometimes not, I leave it to them to decide) I am currently studying at uni, away from home, and when I return I find a list of jobs to do that have accumulated while I’ve been away. I enjoy the work, and also have my own projects that I work on, that I also thoroughly enjoy. Over the summer holidays (2 months off uni) I found myself sleeping 4h a night for the first month, and thinking this more or less normal, always busy fixing things, helping people and working on my projects. without realizing it I started I started to become lonely and depressed, used to living on campus with 1000 other people, moving to my room at home in a village of 200 people. I've always been a fairly solitary person, content to read, to learn, potter away at that which I enjoy. I had decided at the start of the holidays 2 things: Firstly that 2 months of working at home was too much, too monotonous, so I would find real employment in the middle of the holidays, to give me a ‘rest’ from ‘my’ work, and apply my mind elsewhere, I had however been too busy to arrange this, and just kept working though. Secondly that I would return to the city I was studying in, to visit a few friends who were now living there. As the first had not happened, I arranged to stay with a very good friend of mine, who I adore so much, for a few days. She is a light sleeper but when allowed will easily sleep 10+ hours, which allowed me the rest I needed. Perhaps it was too much though, I found myself thinking about my life, and how I had spent it, wasted it, working too much, not exploring the outside world, keeping to myself, not really socialising, talking and sharing with others, denying myself these things. The greatest realisation of this was one night when she asked me what my favourite food was, I couldn’t answer, I was astonished, such a simple question virtually anyone could answer, and I hadn’t allowed myself the time in my life to ever think about what I like, what I want. It was summer, and extremely hot, we spent most of the day just lazing around, and I was being pretty miserable, which I think she mistook for boredom, and suggested I go home. Having stayed for almost a week now, I decided it that I should, feeling that I shouldn’t walk around her house being miserable, I didn’t want to put her though that. Also I felt that I was restricting her, she surely had things to do, trying to find a permanent job etc. Before I left I promised to her that I would sleep more than 4 hours a night, which I have kept, sleeping at least 6 hours, usually 7-8, when my body will allow it (there have been a few nights I have just lay awake in bed, I wish I knew why), and I am a lot healthier now than I was then. After returning things were pretty quiet, too quiet perhaps, and I continued to be miserable, leading me to write the poetry I write, which I find a great healer. Returning to uni was welcome, surrounded by familiar faces again, but I was still occasionally haunted by thoughts of how lacking my life has been, and now that we are into holidays again I find it very lonely, although I am surviving OK so far, and I hope it continues OK. Phew, well, that was a little more than a quick explanation, but I’m glad I got that out, I feel better now. Back to the poem, if anyone has any suggestion of a device to describe the ‘people’, please let me know. Thanks for reading. [comments] => 3 [counter] => 158 [topic] => 61 [informant] => Insomnia_InfiniteSadness [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 5 [ratings] => 1 [editpoem] => 0 [associated] => [topicname] => selfstruggles )
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