you can be honest about it here

no one's listening, no one hears. the walls have deaf ears, 
so cry out loud and beat your fists on the floor, scream and 
kick and raise a fuss. 

i dream of buying a house. isn't that funny? i can't even keep 
my checking account in the black and i'm dreaming of buying 
a house? but i need my own space, i need my own things, i 
need room to sing out loud if i want to, to cry if i have to, 
to whine where no one will hear me.

my house is yellow. it has strong walls. it has a fireplace 
that is not just for show, but to be used when the wind 
whistles and moans through the blackness. it is clean. it 
smells good. i have pictures of my family hanging in every 
room. my beautiful dishes rest in the cupboards. my 
wonderful pans wait to be put to use. the bed is made 
with soft sheets and layered with warm quilts. a clock ticks 
loudly, counting down the minutes and hours of my life. 
my books rest on shelves, waiting and longing for my touch. 
no one is inside except those i invite. there are trees in the 
yard and a garden in the back dreaming of warm sun. 

it's time to go to sleep now. but i can't go to bed until 
Glenn gets up and he's not getting up. GET UP SO I CAN 
GO TO SLEEP! i'm the only one who works in this house, 
why do i have to wait for a bed?

i need my house soon, God. if it's Your will, 
could i have one soon?

thank you.

love, 

denise

| home | back | next | words |