Cydniey Buffers (cydniey) wrote,
Cydniey Buffers
cydniey

On My Own

They're both tired of me.
I can't say as I blame them.
20 years of my insanity
has got to wear on a person.
Especially if you are only
one of two persons who
deals with that insanity.

They don't get me,
as well they shouldn't.
And by extension,
don't get anything that I do.
They can't keep saying,
"Good job, Cyd,"
When they can't see my vision
and they don't get my goal.

And it is really unfair of me
to keep demanding of them
that they keep validating me.
Not when I don't remember
the validation, only every
negative thing ever uttered.
Because that's how my mind works.

If I'm really going to do this myself,
it's time to do it myself, and
stop relying on other people.
Be glad for the Ether People.
They have helped me.
They have stood for me.
They have stood for me.
They have even saved my life.
They are the friends.
They are the family.
They are even the fans sometimes.

And it was me that brought them here.
No one helped me but them.
Doc will buy the materials.
But, when he won't, they will.
They actually want to see what
I will do next, what I will make.
And I haven't been treating them right.
That changes tonight.
Every comment answered.
Every promotion retweeted/shared.
No more political garbage.
It's past time I abandon that
negativity in my life that
I just so really don't need.

It isn't that it's all about me.
It's that the things that count,
will be all by me, and for me
until I can stand on my own again.

I can still remember a time,
(surprised I kept this memory),
when people of various stripes
told me regularly how incredibly
strong and resilient I was.

I've been living on my weaknesses.
Breathing in my triggers.
I switched back into serial-victim mode.
And it is not a good color on me.

I need to find that fearsome survivor
that lives deep down inside of me.
In the dark corners, under the mattresses
strewn on the cold time floors of
my battered mind's green rooms.

She needs to get up.
She needs to wake the fuck up.
She needs to put on a t-shirt
and her favorite pair of holey jeans,
and maybe, just maybe, apply
a little kohl while listening to
"Cherry Bomb" on repeat really loud
at three in the morning because she can.

While sitting passively, complaining,
and whining, and bitching, and moaning;
I have managed to master a few programs
on the ever present computers.
I have come to the conclusion that
there is never enough time in the day.
I never knew that before.
I was such an underachiever.
Now I know the difference.
Now I know what I am capable of.

Now I am striking out on my own.
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