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Unsent Letter to Jerilyn Apropos Chapbook

October 7, 2013

I finished my chapbook called “Stygian” for submission to a magazine contest. It contains 36 pages of poetry and 4 original sketches. Take that, Jerilyn! So drawing is only for people who have a life, guess I have one after all. How about writing? Sure, the poetry has received mixed reviews/results, but that’s the beautiful thing about art forms: interpretations are myriad, and some will love while others will hate, and some will be intrigued and amused. I think I’ve done pretty well on this one. For once I feel not a drop of doubt about my creation. I like this one.

These poems have been a lifetime in creation, as they are short stories of my life scribbled in poetic form. I’ve read it a hundred fucking times, and I don’t hate it yet. Many of the poems I’ve included in my chapbook have appeared on my blog, though they are now nuanced as pieces of my chapbook. Remember, that feeling I dwell on at times, that fucked up feeling in my heart that I’ve fucked up again. I am a failure? That feeling is not really there now. When I was ten or eleven and still looking for your love and approval, you told me, “Drawing is for people who have a life,” and stabbed me in the hand with a pencil. I had wanted you to tell me that I’d done something well and you were proud of me. Instead, you did the opposite; you told me many times how much I had messed up and how I could be better. I feel the same way sometimes, but did you have to treat me like shit? You never let me finish anything, you never allowed me to accomplish or be good at anything.

Well, guess what? It turns out I am a decent writer. I finished my chapbook before the deadline, and I have plans for its future publishing. (Damn, I just need to finish this novel now!) The “darker”short stories I’ve written…I need to go over them again, polish them, and expand Stygian into more than a poetry chapbook to get it ready for later publication after poetry contest is over.

So, I’ve done something. At least, I’ve created something from this worthless-ass life I’ve lived thus far. I’ve sat at the curb of this dead end and created something. I’ll give you this… I’ve never amounted to much, my life isn’t “spectacular,” but I’ve now done something from my soul, from my heart, as minuscule as it may seem to you. I make a lot of mistakes. I am not good enough…yet. But not good enough for who? you? her? him? them? Not good enough for me yet…ha, ha…but I’m on my way.

Remember that feeling I get that I’ve fucked something up, that I’m a failure? It’s blinded for a moment. I’ll get “Stygian submitted.” I’ll be at work again. Let’s see what happens…

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One Comment
  1. Congratulations! You sir, have accomplished more than many people ever have– not that we should compare ourselves to anyone but own selves. ~peace, Jason

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