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Self Portrait

Self PortraitWhen I was tenmy nephew diedhit by a car on a residential streetand on my way home from schoolin the hazy light of early springthat I’ve come to associatewith death and rebirthmy mind had such a limited reachI had no experience to cryso I filed it awayalongside the toys and the vivid imaginationi used to fill the lonely timeeven though the house was full.You don’t slow downyou justroll with the picturesjusttaking in the messages thatpeople say in front of you.Building a self portraitfrom the face in the shop windowsand the one of the man in the mooncomparing and circlingand claiming who you’re notinstead of claiming who you are.When I was fifteenI stole a record from a storemy brother and cousin were with meand they stopped me outside.Embarrassed to the core I went homemy parents couldn’t understandthe reason whythere was no reasonI used to be an A studentbut I was falling before my own eyeswith no reason.School was tossed asideI wandered the streets all dayshowing up at peoples housesunannouncedjust to quit hearing myself speak.Until the school let my parents knowthat I’d been gone much of the year so farso I took an overdoseof what turned out to beharmless over the counter speed.The counselor met with meand as part of the examinationfilmed me with a video cameraas I answered eachintensely personal question.I squirmed, I struggled within myselfI saw the person others sawwithout the inner voiceto know the turmoilI looked away and I looked againand saw myself for the first time there.You don’t slow downyou justroll with the picturesjustlistening to the messages thatpeople say in front of youbuilding a self portraitfrom the face in the mirrorand the one of the man in the film.Seeing that they were one in the samecuts that feeling of seperation.Actions and memoriesthey go by so fastyou end up acquiringa comet by its tailI have no illusions oflove and its glowdeath and its aftermathI will exist and will blissfully keep tryingone picture at a timeto build a self portraitto look in the mirrorand know within and withoutthe pressure is equaland nothing seperates them but skin.

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  • Christie  Moses
    Christie Mosesalmost 5 years ago

    Amazing journey you took us on Bill. Recovering is a long hard battle but its worth it isn’t it? To look in the mirror with eyes open….a freedom in that. :) Love C xoxo

  • Thanks kid, I will not however be posting my picture on this thread, too many nose hairs LOL

    – bill bell

  • Christie  Moses
    Christie Mosesalmost 5 years ago

    LOL you’re funny Bill. :D

  • Only truthful kid LOL

    – bill bell

  • JRGarland
    JRGarlandalmost 5 years ago

    What a self portrait you’ve painted for us to see. You’ll see that image change with you as the years go by. It will be interesting to see it again in 10 to 20 years from now. Well done.

  • Thanks JR, we’ll see how it evolves.

    – bill bell

  • Lisa  Jewell
    Lisa Jewellalmost 5 years ago

    I’m on the same journey….a profound and poignant piece…that will linger on my mind for sometime.
    Thank you for sharing this….xx

  • You’re welcome Lisa, this was all real life, just a way of saying that a persons way of looking at themselves evolves over time through experiences and trusting themselves. Its ongoing as you know, it isn’t perfect but what the hell.

    – bill bell

  • skinnyman
    skinnymanalmost 5 years ago

    so much truth in this bill, excellent write, well done mate.

  • Thanks Peter, i came to terms with these kinds of things long ago but it’s interesting to turn them in your mind and realize they always still exist, you just deal with them.

    – bill bell

  • Matt Penfold
    Matt Penfoldalmost 5 years ago

    Wow Bill, I love the way you’ve painted this unfinished portrait with raw pigment and honest brush, well done indeed.

  • Thanks matt, appreciate your words and for coming by!

    – bill bell

  • littlestmonkey
    littlestmonkeyalmost 5 years ago

    Very thought provoking….makes us all stop and take a look….excellently written:))

  • Thanks little for coming by and reading it

    – bill bell

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