working every day in many ways
I am a wife, writer, non-profit retail worker
A friend to a few
Each day I attempt to take it in
Not waste a minute
Give and get, then give again
I’m not free of imperfections
The cycle of the circle
In 24 hours
The sun rises and falls
And someday we fall to
How do you want them to recall you?
Will you struggle for your dream?
Give up something for passion only you can see.
Then hope when someone opens the book, reads the words, they too will be touched.
It’s why I’ve been away.
I’ve been writing it, just for another book.
Anticipating that someone will understand what I have to say
If not today perhaps tomorrow, or much later when I’m gone.
Angela K. Crandall
“And so I built walls because you choose to stick them up. I began to create my own. I’d rather stay in a world I shaped, than the one you doomed. My cage of words, creating stories. Can you take them from my head, as you took my heart from my soul? Each and every word is an action typed within breaths leaked from the pulse I continue to allow to beat. The only repercussion would be I could no longer tell my story. It’s why I go on. It’s my story. It’s all I have. I will not allow anyone else to hold the pen. At times for this, I suffer, we suffer, creating our worlds unlike any other. Now, I should sleep within. Again tomorrow I begin again. Faults, scars, alibis, misspelled words, and punctuation.”
-Angela K. Crandall©8/7/16 (Sweet dreams.)
“The best thing about myself, is my heart.
Although, it’s been broken in the past, it hasn’t led me wrong.
It’s a reminder that not everyone can be trusted, but that I want to trust everyone.
I suppose most people are good until proven otherwise.”
~Angela K. Crandall
“I’m the girl who always tried to please others, who is trying to please herself.
I have made mistakes, faced my past, and am always looking for my future.
Life feels like one big test in which you never know if you are winning or losing.”
~Angela K. Crandall~
“I can’t give up, it’s like committing suicide. It’s worse then social suicide. You can’t let yourself die as an artist because of what other people think of you. It’s tough to keep going even when no one listens, but if you stop then really no one will ever have the chance to listen so it’s better to keep going even when you don’t know what the outcome will be.”
~Angela K. Crandall~–on writing
“If you want to be a writer then be a writer. Let no one define who you are just because you need a day job to support yourself. Be good to yourself, stay positive, and even if you never become famous you can say that you never gave up. Yes, I know you think it isn’t much, but you were always true to yourself. That’s more than most people are, and most folks give up. I know because I’ve given up before.”–Angela K. Crandall, Author
Everything I’m fighting for seems
So far away
The letters on the page
Work is written not in hours,
Months planned awaiting something further
To be someone of importance
Not just a day job
Why did I struggle to go to college?
What did it pay for?
Only to make me question everything
Whilst I ponder those who accept it
Melt into it
As I pursue pushing it
claiming, I am compelled by madness
In my need to rise above the selected
Societal ladder made to climb, push, break,
To bend it til you crash!
I’m the mad women
The one they warn you of
Who needs beyond belief?
Whose words are seen or unseen?
As you shove them aside
I let them guide me
Leading to my fate
A sharp rock in the water
Sitting patiently to be polished
Not just waiting either
Taking created goals
Maintaining them in spite of obstacles,
Setbacks, the life that gets in the way.
Even as I wonder if the drive will
Knowing that I must make it
Even if you manipulate me to believe
I’ll only fall
Now and forever
If my destiny is failure
I’m not allowed to give in
To demolish my faith
That it’s worth it.
Something I cannot see won’t let me.
Like guilt in my gut
Stretching through seconds
Angela K. Crandall
I want my light back
I’m tired of darkness
Why did you bring me here?
How the hell did you find me?
I didn’t ask you to arrive in your
Black jet automobile
You set it on cruise
Let’s go for a ride you said
It will be fun you said
So I entered.
I thought I’d win, we’d win
That we’d dance even in the rain
Yet I’m drowning in it
Living in dreams
My own imagination
In need of a vacation
A way out of pressure
It’s always time to go to work
And when I come home the dream dies
Work has killed me
Don’t let it you say?
13 years is a long time
And a sustenance is a necessity in these times.
I pray, I grieve, I beg that I’ll make it
Inch by inch crawling, attempting to
Achieve what I had, the dream,
What I wanted, before getting in that car
Before I thought this would the right
Now I have to work twice as hard
To stay motivated
Exert my goals
I get tired
I’m told to keep on
I force myself forward
Screaming and kicking
I beat myself down
I am the only one who will punish me
No one else cares if I succeed or fail.
I am my own jailer
Or zilch is achieved
Nothing is accomplished
Because at the end of the day
I am the only one that cares
If I make it or break it
Lose it or gain it.
In the end, I hope I win
We all hope to win
To be more than just another face
At least I think most of us do
We want to be someone to somebody.
Some want to be somebody to
Who’s someone to you?
Angela K. Crandall, Author
P.S. The black car is a metaphor. 😉