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Stranger To Myself
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TITLE (EDIT)
Stranger To Myself |
DESCRIPTION
�Look in the mirror. The face that pins you with its double gaze reveals a chastening secret.�
[1,225 words] |
AUTHOR
Omar Longoria |
ABOUT
THE AUTHOR
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[November 2000] |
AUTHOR'S OTHER TITLES (9)
And Then You Wouldn't Want It Any Other Way (Poetry) close your eyes. see the snake. one red eye and one green eye. 7 miles long. deadly. all the history of the world on it's scale. [69 words]
Don't Fall On My Living Roots (Poetry) I drank to much last night... my head. and then you call me. [109 words]
It Never Ends (Poetry) see i try, to look up to, to the sky, but my eyes burn! [117 words]
Leave It Alone (Poetry) What seems important now won't last forever. [67 words]
Make Sure Their Dead My Dear (Poetry) don't go no not over there [109 words]
Oh Baby (Poetry) - [115 words]
Screaming Wind Knows (Poetry) You ever feel like your falling into a dream within a dream? [72 words]
We Care Carebears We Care! (Poetry) I have know idea where this came from. Goofy... but I like it. [75 words]
You Let Your Jealousy Overtake You (Poetry) Dumb feelings thatare already gone from my soul. [111 words]
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Stranger To Myself
Omar Longoria
I�ve been living a mystery the last couple day of my life. I didn�t yet realize it until today just a few hours ago. I wasn�t Omar Longoria yesterday or part of today either. There was something else inside of me that changed me. A negative force if you will. Why? Where did it come from? These and many other questions remain a complete mystery to me. I realize this paper has become some desperate attempt for me to try and figure it all out.
Bored, angry, disgusted, impatient, sick of things, feeling stupid, pissed off, lazy, and feeling lifeless were some of the feelings that ran through me. That�s who I was the last thirty odd hours or so. That person no longer remains, but I can strongly feel the emotions of those words as I write them down. I may still not know who that person was or where he came from, though I�m certain those words at the top of the paragraph isn�t like me. Something existed there inside of me, a negative energy that didn�t belong. It stayed there stirring deep inside of me, hidden from the outside world.
So where did this person come from? I reason and question and try to remember but still it remains a mystery. That�s what I find so very strange about the whole thing. No outside source from my world caused me to become such a person. Nobody did something to make me angry. Angry just simply appeared inside me along with the other negative feelings. I cannot find a logical source as to why all of this became me. I�m ashamed to admit it but it scared me just a little bit, thinking of someone trapped in a world of harmful feelings. It appeared inside of me from out of nowhere like a ghost. At least I kept that ghost very well hidden, within.
So what exactly is the purpose of this personal narrative paper? I don�t know exactly what the purpose is all about. Maybe the purpose of this paper is for you the reader to read on and discover something that I cannot. Maybe it can be for me to suddenly figure it all out in the middle of writing this. Or perhaps maybe for me to look back on this in the future and realize it then and there. This paper has become so different from any other I�ve ever written. This paper is for me and not for somebody else. The audience to write to is myself. That at least makes some sense to me.
Well I want to try and describe the last few days and part of today. When I looked in the mirror I didn�t like what I saw. The reflection made me angry and I felt very ugly inside as well as outside. I guess I should start referring to myself in a different person since the things I felt and did were so totally unlike me. Since I seemed just like someone else. He locked himself in his room and didn�t want to come out. He tried to study and get schoolwork out of the way, but it just wouldn�t happen for him. His parents called from there new home in Kentucky and he had nothing to say to them. His sister called and he told her he had to go when he really didn�t have to go. Little things started to bother him that normally never would. He skipped a class yesterday for the first time in a long time, because he was tired and felt miserable. He was pissed off, pissed of at nothing really, just pissed off though. He was stuck inside of a small little oven that kept getting hotter and hotter. I could go on with further evidence to support my case. I regret all of this and more. All of this just isn�t me, and still all of it remains a mystery. I had become a stranger to myself and sadly also a stranger to some others around me.
Usually I�m a very calm, laid back type of person. I really don�t have a temper. I don�t have any enemies and get along with everyone I know. I hardly ever get angry, and if I do it usually only lasts a very short while. Good feelings make up most of my days. What was it then that made me so different? I thought maybe it was something I eat or drank, or I didn�t get enough sleep. I know that it�s nothing physical like that. So can you see why I�m so puzzled now about the last couple of days?
Well I woke up this Tuesday morning still in a lousy mood. I came back from school and then it happened. Something else that wasn�t so bad but still wasn�t me. All of these negative feelings that had been haunting me seemed to have vanished like some strange apparition. They mysteriously vanished the same way they mysteriously appeared. A very powerful calm slowly swept over me. I started to think a lot about different things. I had a great urge to drive and just think about stuff. I was driving to no particular destination, and while driving I started to reflect on yesterday and earlier today. I thought about my behavior then but also I thought of a lot more. I�ve been doing so much thinking in the last couple of hours, more then I usually do in a couple weeks literally. Thinking about very big things like life and death. Asking myself questions like why am I here? What is my purpose on this planet? This just wasn�t like me either, to think and question so much. Then such an urge to write and write and write. Write down ideas and thoughts. So I thought why not get rid of my other paper on TOOL the rock band and write down what was occupying my mind. I�ve heard of people waking up in the middle of the night to write down thoughts that came to them. It�s exactly what happened to me.
I just came back from looking at myself in the mirror. Standing there looking into my own eyes I saw a very curious and puzzled guy. And after I looked hard enough I saw some different things hidden deep within myself. Well all of these questions are starting to fade away while I write this now. I can feel my normal self returning now. I don�t know if I should be happy or sad about it. Happy I guess is what I should feel.
Just starting to write now after a long while. Back to my old self again now. All those questions filled with mystery don�t seem such a big deal to me anymore. I can�t really grab the feeling now that I had before and hold on to it. The feeling that I had when I was writing most of this paper. I read it all back to myself and it helped me a little. Still I can�t taste that same feeling anymore; I can only smell some faint essence of it. It�s all gone.
� Look in the mirror. The face that pins you with its double gaze reveals a chastening secret.�
Diane Ackerman
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READER'S REVIEWS (1)
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"I couldn't grasp if you were happy about your experiences in not being yourself or upset about it. I don't know if maybe this was just an essay about what it described or if it was something different. Something meant to be deeper than what was written. (Sorry if it is just about what it's about I'm an English major and it's a force of habit for me to break apart everything). But I always have the questions that you described feeling. I either heard someone tell me this, or I read it (probably Emerson, I've been reading him a lot lately) but it said that you have stopped living life if you no longer look at life in askance about purpose and existence. So instead of self-criticism, your essay reminded me of this and made me feel that your experience was actually one of growth, something that you need to listen to, something you need to show you your purpose. " -- E.D. Traynum, Atlanta, GA.
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COPYRIGHT NOTICE
© 2000 Omar Longoria |
STORYMANIA PUBLICATION DATE
November 2000 |
NUMBER OF TIMES TITLE VIEWED
2290
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