I feel so guilty just for being alive.
I’m not right in the head and I think I never will be.
I just need to get this out tonight.
The author and site owner can be reached at leeundercedartrees@gmail.com.
I'm a middle-aged nobody breathing one day at a time in Ontario, Canada.
This tiny corner of the Internet is an outlet for unmasking random thoughts and creations surrounding life in general, adventures in budō, and any other topics that come to a ridiculous mind.
"Through journaling, your voice cannot go unheard."
I feel so guilty just for being alive.
I’m not right in the head and I think I never will be.
I just need to get this out tonight.
Night air in late spring
My thoughts drift to nearby friends
Now feeling so far
For you who’ll walk with me when I’m in need
Seeing in me what is invisible to the eye
Who, when I drop
Pieces of me in the grass
Will gently place them back into my fumbling hands
…
There’s a kind of love for our first kin
Universally defensible, globally understood
Truly unconditional
There’s another for those we find briefly
For months or years
Sharing our space and time
Where captivations intersect
Yet another is reserved for so few
Bearing rings and keys
Sharing bathrooms and kitchens and beds
…
Their memories are vague concepts to me.
Myself, who never knew their fields:
I can only catch glimpses from a distance,
aided by stories told across chasms of time
and left written in the sand when the empathy tides recede
on memory shores.
…
I killed an insect on my desk this afternoon.
I’m not sure what it was, but it was probably harmless.
I could have put it outside.
I could have gently shooed it somewhere else.
But, I didn’t.
I crushed it, with a tissue, so I wouldn’t dirty my fingers.
Now the stink of death lingers in the room,
and I wonder where my heart’s gone.
.
June 4, 2025
The savage and I are at odds again today.
But, today, I’m not pacifying it. I refuse to play by its rules.
I will not coddle it, cuddle it, kiss it on its forehead today.
Today I resist. I argue. I rail against its every move.
.
June 3, 2025
What is this pervasiveness?
What is this system of patterns
These loops both logical and non?
…
“It’s too much. Again. Again, you go too far!”
I hear it loud and clear.
“You are too much!”
I am too much,
But — too much for what? Too much for who?
…
(Stream of consciousness foolishness, as sleep begins creeping in.)
…
I need to write
I need to breathe deeply
I need to inhale your calm peace
So I can exhale all this fear in exchange
…