First off this is long. Sorry about that. :b I was sitting here tonight and had the oppurtunity to hear some of Henry Rollins "spoken word" stuff. There was one bit he did called "I know you" It was to me as if a light came on, as if he really did know me. I was wondering who else has read or heard something that deeply touched them and made them feel not so alone in the world because someone else seemed to have read your mind and had been in the same place you are or were? What one piece of literature, or a poem or whatever made you finally feel understood? You don't have to quote the whole thing as I'm about to do, but you may if you wish. Heres mine and it may let some of my fellow HTF members in on what kind of person I really am or atleast how I've felt. Anyone else out there ever feel like this: ?? I know you. You were too short you had bad skin. You couldn’t talk to them very well. Words didn’t seem to work. They lied when they came out your mouth. You tried SO hard to understand them. You wanted to be a part of what was happening. You saw them having fun, and it seemed like such a mystery almost magic. Made you think that there was something wrong with you. You’d look in the mirror. You thought that you were ugly, and that everyone was looking at you. So you learned to be invisible to look down, to avoid conversation. The hours, days, weekends, ahhh the weekend nights alone. Where were you? In the basement? In the attic? In your room? Working some job just to have something to do, Just to have a place to put your self. Just to have a chance to get away from them, a chance to get away from the Ones that made you feel so strange and ill at ease inside yourself? Did you ever get invited to one of their party’s? You sat and wondered if you would go or not. For hours you imagined the scenarios that might transpire. If they would laugh at you, if you would know what to do, if you would have the right things on, If they would notice that you came from a different planet? Did you get all brave in your thoughts like you thought you were going to be able to go in there and deal with it and have a great time? Did you think that you might be the life of the party? That all these people were going to talk to you and you would find out that you were wrong that you had a lot of friends and you weren’t so strange after all? Did you end up going? Did they mess with you? Did they single you out? Did you find out that you were invited because they thought you were so weird? Yeah, I think I know you. You spent a lot of time full of hate, a hate that was pure as sunshine a hate that saw for miles, a hate the kept you up a night a hate that filled your every waking moment, a hate that carried you for a long time. Yes, I think I know you. You couldn’t figure out what they saw in the way they lived, home was not home, your room was home a corner was home the place they weren’t that was home. I know you. You’re sensitive and you hide it because you fear getting stepped on one more time. It seems that when you show a part of yourself that is the least bit vulnerable someone takes advantage of you. One of them steps on you. They mistake kindness for weakness. But you know the difference. You’ve been the brunt of their weakness for years and strength is something that you know a bit about because you had to be strong to keep yourself alive. You know yourself very well now and you don’t trust people. You know them too well. You try to find that special person, someone you can be with someone you can touch someone you can talk to someone you won’t feel so strange around and you found that they don’t really exist. You feel closer to people on movie screens. Yeah I think I know you. You spend a lot of time daydreaming and people have made comment to that effect telling you that your self involved and self centered. But they don’t know do they? About the long night shifts alone, about the years of keeping yourself company. All the nights you wrapped your arms around yourself so you could imagine someone holding you. The hours on indecision, self doubt,the intense depression. A blinding hate The rage that made you stagger the devastation of rejection. Well maybe they do know. But if they do they sure do a good job of hiding it. It astounds you on how they can be so smooth. How they seem to pass through life as if life itself was some kind of divine gift. And it infuriates you to watch yourself with your apparent skill in finding everyway possible to screw it up. For you life is a long trip. Terrifying and wonderful, birds sing to you at night and the rain and the sun and the changing seasons are true friends. Solitude is a hard one ally faithful and patient. Yeah I think I know you. Seems that Henry Rollins knows me quite well. Who knows you?