Loving You

Why do you get to be the special one?

Why do I sit here, rotting on the inside?

While you flourish

You flourish and blossom in the light that I gave you

That you STOLE from me

You’re the one they feel sorry for

You’re the one they pat on the back whilst whispering,

‘It will be OK’

Where is my ‘OK’?

When am I the victim?

You took it all, and you keep on taking

What do I get?

But to sit here, heart breaking, hands shaking

Raging and wilting in the pain that you left me with

While you got the glory

Happiness was within reach

Or so I thought

You dangled it there in front of me

You watched me dance and grasp at strings

This is what I got

Loving You

Child.

Here I was thinking I had my temper under control

Here I was thinking what she said was worse

Here I was thinking you’d changed

Little did I know you were still the same

If not worse

If not a little more up your own arse

If not with more audacity

If not more foolish

How can one travel so far in reverse?

How can one devolve to a state of pure delusion?

How can one be so clue-less?

But here you are, blind

There you are

There you are unaware of your own stupidity

There you are naïve in the light of the obvious

There you are uneducated

Unintelligent

Uncivilised

Unable to understand how unamused we are

You child.

What We Became

Locks on diaries became chains on hearts,

We replaced crouching over our words to shield them from offenders eyes,

With pulling down our sleeves, and muttering those empty words ‘I'm fine’

No more scraped knees and crocodile tears,

We have matured, with new gravel grating against our fragile skins,

We cry internally now, gasping for air,

Those scrapes come from blades, and scars from burns,

But some things still remain,

The way that people tell us ‘you’re overreacting’, ‘you’ll be fine’, ‘get over it’.

Of course we won’t,

The way we once sniffled and moved on was a product of childhood bliss,

We’re trapped in cages built from our own self-doubt,

Every breath takes effort,

Every smile is forced,

Thoughts of possibly being happy bring tears to our eyes because we’re sure,

We will never be.

Nothing is certain or stays,

Life fades and everything around us decays,

We will not get over it,

We will not forget it,

But We will move past it.

[Untitled]

Josie stared out at the mass of grey and white beyond her, and wondered what it would be like if she could venture down below.

The Savions had claimed the higher ground as their home for years. They are not aware of how they truly came to be there, but like all great nations, there are many great stories to guide the people to their destiny and the greatness they so desperately seek. These stories range from the much expected tale of being created as a type cast of divine beauty, to the most absurd scenarios which involve them willing themselves to evolve into the greatest creatures to roam the vast dimensions. Many Savions preferred the latter of course, as they are such a vain and proud people. However, vain though they might they might be, their hearts are full of love, love for the natural beauty tht surrounds them, and love for one another. You see, they are a gentle race who hold no one person more important than the next, each being significant in their path of life. 

But still Josie dreamed…

The Beauty of Words

There's some beauty in the use of a keyboard. To watch ones hands glide over key after key and produce something, something of truth, something that can be shared with the world by a mere push of a button. It is this beauty which draws me to typing. However there is something far greater, with much more beauty held inside it. It is the illegible scrawl from one’s own hand; the words which will be read by few, not many. Seen by a lucky minority, with wonder, with each ink spill, each incorrect word with a line through it or hurriedly scribbled out, each un-identical space, and letter the formation unique to that one person. That is the greatest beauty of all, as no one, not even the original author, can come to replicate the words on that page, that scrap of paper, that receipt from the coffee shop. They will never be written in the same hand, never with the same passion behind the eyes, fire in the soul, never at that moment, with that surrounding.

People tend to forget, it is not solely the author who creates the story, but every stimulus surrounding him at that time. It is not simply his thoughts put upon a page, but every experience and situation which affected him before and during those moments of creativity. When he slept and when he woke, it was those first sounds, the first conscious breath, the first thought, the first sight, smell and touch which created the precious text which one reads and loses himself to.

Along with these experiences of the author, it is every experience of the reader, the critic, which completes the story, as he reads and pulls his own memories into effect, brings his own thoughts to weave themselves in with the lyrical words of the author. He puts the meaning to the words, he decides the signified, and he creates the character, with some direction of the author but most from himself. He creates a completely different story to that of the person who read it before him and the person who will read it next.

And that is the true beauty in literature, meanings change constantly, due to context, personality, environment, beliefs and our understanding of the signifier. A story will never be read the same way twice. A text will never be given the same analysis. There will always be one person who finds a new meaning, a new beginning, a new end, a new reasoning. And our discovery of literature will expand endlessly as we expand with it. There is always more to know, and i am keen to discover as much as I can before my time runs out.

A Kiss

Your gentle fingers brush away a few stray strands of hair from my face; you look at me with such love and intent. My chin cupped in your hand, you draw my face toward your own, your eyes boring into my soul. You move closer, slowly but sure of your intentions, as your lips brush mine, my heart stops, I don’t think. I am taken into another world with you, with you as my only company. A euphoric world, your lips press against mine, your tongue caressing them ever so slightly, past my lips and I feel your love wash over me.

The pressure increases and the world which surrounds us disappears completely, you pull me closer to you, your body pressed to mine and I feel your heartbeat on my chest. My pulse races, my breath hastens. My cheek is pressed to yours now, I feel your heat take over me, my lips are at your ear now as you kiss my neck with your tender lips.

Your hand brushes against my collar bone and down my arm, you pull me closer to you still as your lips meet mine a final time before you release me from your spell and you are back to staring into my eyes. A hint of madness behind a mist of love and I melt once more before I compose myself and my heart teases my lips into the usual smile that gets you smiling right back at me. I say to myself, ‘I love this man with every inch of me, my body, my soul, my heart,’ and I vow to devote my life to you, looking into your eyes once again, I know I will have no difficulty in keeping this unspoken promise.

[Originally published on Smashwords.com]

The Admission

Yet still, I yearn for it, each night I lay in bed and I fantasize about it, I wonder how painful it would be as my heart races desperately trying to keep my unwilling body alive, I think about the fear that will set in as I feel the burning heat of my organs overworking and then shutting down one by one. I would panic, ‘Why have I done this?!’ and then I will remember the emptiness that filled me before, and I will decide, that I prefer this pain. At this point I imagine I will try to relax into it, knowing some feeling is better than the neutrality I tried to fill myself with in living days, and as death takes hold I will welcome it with open arms and I will beg of it, ‘Release me from this burden’.

Every night I dream of it, and every night I know I am not brave enough to make it happen.

Always

To discover, that beneath the horror, which masked the pain,

Lay a girl.

A girl who is sweet and kind,

Loving and compassionate.

Knowing,

That for nineteen years of my life,

She was there, by my side

And I,

Was clueless.

We strayed beyond the realms of sisterhood,

Unhinged by pasts shared

Pasts we wish we could have forgotten

Torn away from one another,

By the struggles of coping with an angry mother.

It pains me to know,

That I didn't know,

Who you were.

I didn't know that you were mine,

That I was yours

That we have been always.

Held together by a bond we didn’t recognise,

Or consider being a possibility.

Now here you are, in front of me,

Laughing with me,

Smiling with me,

Loving with me.

Wishing we could have,

Thinking we might have,

Been,

Always. 

Accept the Unexpected

Stepping in you realise that this isn't what you thought it would be. You expected more, you expected excitement, joy… Fireworks! Instead you are left with a lump in your throat and the morose truth that things haven’t gone quite according to plan. Rather than scenes of vibrant, dancing colour, rather than bright lights, rather than shivers down your spine, and being left breathless, you are faced with grey. Life moves on, like some drab slideshow of bland with you merely standing and watching as you do nothing. Any attempts of yours to reach out, to force yourself into those images and paint the life back in, are faced with an empty palette, frayed brushes, and a marred canvas. It dawns on you that life may never be this wondrous journey, that the world will never become that amazing place you dreamt of, and instead it will remain a struggle, filled with suffering, and greed, and controversy. You don’t fall into the lull of depression you suspected you would openly welcome at this time, nor do you refuse to allow this understanding of yours to take over and decide you will fight against it. You just sit, in the position you feel you were destined to have, and let that slideshow keep running because you know that however boring and lifeless it may seem at first glance, it is still your life. It is your memories being forged, and your future ahead, and you know that amidst all the grey, there will be flashes of spectacular colour highlighting the most important and joyful moments you will be lucky enough to live.

I Want True Beauty

I want very badly to be in a place of beauty, not manufactured beauty like architectural masterpieces, real, genuine, natural beauty. The kind that cannot be created by any mind, that cannot be configured through pure imagination.

I want the beauty which has been created by the winds, the rains, the rough seas. The shifting of plates, the collision  of mountains.

I want trees a mile high casting green shadows over crystal lakes of clear, magnificent water. Sun pouring through gaps in those trees, highlighting the pristine image of perfectly engineered flowers.

To see life moving in these waters, hiding in these trees, breathing in this sweet air, fragranced with life.

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In the depths of my heart

Beyond the realms of imagination and thought

Beyond understanding and composure

Beyond reasoning and logic

Is where I stay

Huddled in my worries, my truths

My pains

[Untitled]

The hatred which had built up inside of me throughout my life, has transformed. The metamorphosis which took place inside of me, finally complete. HATRED of those who caused my fear. ANGER created by you, and fuelled by yours. Destruction of those who stand in my path.

The Indescribable

People always say there are no words to describe the feeling when you have found true love. No words I can find are fitting to say the least, exaggerating them barely scrapes the surface. I want to tell you what you mean to me, without my love passing as less than what it is. But I'm struggling. It's the moments when I look into your eyes, and I realise, I've never been happier. When you wrap your arms around me and hold me close, I feel as though nothing can hurt me, you will protect me. When your lips touch mine and they are the perfect match.

But it's the little things, your cheeky smile, hearing your voice, and those cute little freckles of yours, all combined to create someone so amazing.

I didn't even come close.

[Untitled]

As I lay my head to sleep, I pray the Lord my soul to keep. But why do I pray? Be it for my own sense of security, hoping that I can live to see, another happy day. To brave the dying moment I never want to face. But could it really be that harsh? I believe not, for if I were not here, would you still be? Is there a possibility that if I had no existence, you too would have none? Or is it that I, being here or not, does not affect you? Do you continue without a thought? Not a moment to spare. To be truthful to yourself, would you really care, if I wasn't there? Of course not! It's illogical, for I know, that you know, not of my existence, nor of my death.

Words to be Unspoken

Have you ever had someone say the most unimaginable thing to you?

Ever had someone who meant so much, who was meant to protect you, who you depended on for reassurance, tell you the last thing you needed to hear? Tell you the last thing you thought they would say, no, not even the last, the only thing you thought they would never say.

You feel that moment of shock, the inability to comprehend the monstrosity set before you. Then the pain sets in, the hurt, the realisation that this person you care so deeply for could utter those words that hurt you most, in the full knowledge that they would, of course, shatter your very being in those few silent, painful, confused moments. To despise that important individual for only a short moment, but a moment long enough to question their loyalty, their 'truths'.

And of course, the attempt to retract their comment, to apologise and pretend they had never let word leave their lips, and your struggle to comprehend anything but the 'mistake' they didn't mean to make. Their pathetic attempt to comfort from guilt, and the sickening feeling that builds inside you, like bile rising from your gut forming a solid lump in your throat, as you recoil when they try to take your hand. You flinch as they put their arms around you, and your entire body tenses as they let slip the words 'I'm sorry', which at that very moment mean little more than water down a drain.

These moments tend not to come around very often, but when they do, they leave scars that outlive any reconciliation.

A Sililoquy

I feel stupid... no, not because you let me down, I'm sorry, I didn't mean you 'let me down', more, because you couldn't make it. But anyway, it's not because of that. I guess, I feel stupid because... You remember right, talking about how I don't get excited that you're coming anymore, because I worry that you'll tell me you can't make it? Well... That pretty sums up why I feel so stupid. You don't understand? Ok, look, I told myself to stop being stupid, and I let myself get excited, for once.

You wanna know what's so bad about that? I'll tell you. My fear right. You didn't show, you couldn't make it, you disappointed me, you let me down. I'm sorry. I don't mean to make you feel so bad, but that's how I feel. You never made it, the one day I bothered to get excited.

I guess my timings just off, you know, you understand. Maybe next time, I'll be excited, you'll turn up. Maybe. 

Animal Kind

I recently discovered an acquaintance of mine has purchased a mink coat, and I could not be more disgusted. I am confused by the sheer lack of care a majority of human kind has for other species, no matter how I try, I fail to comprehend why someone would use an animal, merely for it's skin and then discard it as if it were a piece of scrap paper.
I understand the use of cows skin for leather, and pigs skin for suede, as these are animals that humans feed on, but to use animals merely for the purpose of fashion? To ruin food chains and endanger species we do not feed on, for the sake of having the 'real thing'? 65 female mink or 35 males go into making ONE coat, just one!
There is no need for any person, no matter how rich, or fashion conscious, to use the skin of these animals, where faux furs and faux silk are so readily available. Quality and texture is no question as there are faux furs available which are so close to the real thing only a specialist would be able to tell the two apart.
I am not an animal rights activists, or a member of any animal protection societies, I am merely a girl who is horrified by the ignorant species she is a part of.

A Day...

Sitting in the park watching the guys play basketball, with the footballers behind me, makes me think, that in the few short years there has been since I turned twelve, life hasn't changed so much. The boys still including new people into their games and the immediate acceptance that come with it.

This is what life should be, the barbeques in the park, picnics and family games and good moods with smiles from strangers. Why is it these moments only happen on days like this? Days of unexpected sun and last minute plans. Why cant this feeling of benevolence and lack of prejudice and judgement be apparent throughout the year?

Why are people so naturally hostile?

Sometimes I Wonder...

Sometimes, I wonder, what if I run out of things to say?
What if I lose my voice, lose my ability to share my opinion?
What if my writing peters out into nothingness?
What if I never get recognised for my talent? Or what if I'm not even talented enough to be recognised?

These are the things I fear...

But to fear, is to disable yourself, to fear is to admit that there is something stopping you from achieving greatness, it is the recognition and acceptance that you may not succeed, that you may not fulfill your dreams. It is allowing yourself to step back, to be defeated, to let someone else take your spot in the limelight.

So if everyone fears, no one succeeds.
If everyone takes that step back, there is no one left to stand up, to step forward, to proclaim, 'I am not afraid!'
And if everyone took that step back, well we would have nothing, all those great minds, of peace, of love, creativity, talent, invention, and independence. All those minds would be disregarded, forgotten and left in the shadows.

I guess I just have to teach myself, not to fear.

[Untitled]

And even though I had to wait that little while longer to feel your skin, lips, breath on my neck, and even though I won't be able to experience this love and affection for long, it is more than worth it.

These moments are fleeting, but when they come I am overcome by passion, and love, to feel you around me, next to me, to know that you are keeping me safe, for those few short moments, makes me the happiest girl in the world.

You leave me wanting for nothing but your attention, leave me thinking of nothing but you're presence, leave me needing nothing but your word in my ear.

This may not be the most eloquent description I've ever written, but I know you will understand; when a love like this comes around, words can not describe the extent of the pleasure I feel with you.


A dedication to my love.