Feb. 8, 2015

My Words Seem so Hollow

From Counterfeit Freedom by Roland F. Stoecker Jr (author's profile)


My words seem so hollow and abstruse if
I was to begin to tell you that I feel loved at this
moment. I feel like a box of toy's stuck on a closet shelf
that hasnt been played with for so long. I am in pain so
at least I know I am alive. "My pen just died
and left me." My soul is hungry for something that it
hasnt been fed yet so every day Im searching a frantic
search for something that isn't here. Sadness becomes me and
I wish my heart and soul would become stone. Roland 1/14/15

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tawnyaashleyball Posted 8 years, 9 months ago. ✓ Mailed 8 years, 7 months ago   Favorite
Roland -

I am just one 25 year old girl, living in New Hampshire. I recently had my stint with drugs and crime and was only in jail for 52 days pre-trial. I am now in this really intense employment program run by the state. The one and only thing I like about this program is the we get to do all kinds of service work, such as reading the betweenthebars website and replying to posts such as yours.

My life has been a struggle from early-childhood. A simple traumatic experience has led me where I am now; no job, 2 kids, a fiancé who doesn't work or drive, a felonious criminal record and nothing but time to sit around and regret my choices.

This is the first time I have ever responded to a blog on this website, and the only reason I am is because one line of your "Words seem so Hollow" poem struck a cord so deep within me, that I felt the need to respond.

You wrote, "My soul is hungry for something it hasn't been fed yet."

I feel like my life is a daily pursuit of something I do not know. Is there any meaning to this frivolous pursuit of happiness? It just opens up so many more questions... What is the meaning of life? What is my destiny? Am I ruled by fate? Do I have any choices of my own? Would I do it differently if I knew now? When will it end?

I guess I just wanted to write to you so that you know you are not alone. I wanted you to know that there are hundreds of thousands of other people out there that feel the same things you do.. People who are young, old, girls, boys, free or locked-up. There are so many of us, and we all feel the same way you do. I just wanted to write to you to tell you that even though I don't know you, I will probably never meet you - I'm thinking of you today. I am thinking of the invisible connection we have, just because I got to read your poem one day, while I was farting around on the computer.

Tawnya Ball
P.O. Box 384
Gilsum NH, 03448

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