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 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.

Who Am I?

Is it possible that one could be, a mere entity, wandering this earth, their purpose in life, solely, to please?
What if there are people who are so malleable that they cannot hold onto one true persona, or one way of life; so they fluctuate, between minds, being what they are wanted to be? Being someone different, with each different person they encounter?

But they do not change in order to be accepted and liked, only to make those around them happy, in order to be the person each and everyone they encounter, can trust, depend on, talk to.

Is it possible that someone could live a happy, fulfilled life, never knowing who they truly are, because,

they aren't truly anything?

Or maybe,
just maybe,
their identity lies in the hands of the person they meet who means most of all to them, a lover, a friend, a relation??

Maybe they only find their true identity when they find this person, deciding that this person is everything they want, so they become everything he/she could ever want?

So maybe, the question: WHO AM I? bares no meaning in this context, because you will be, who you are told to be.

You will be everybody,

but you will be no one.

'The trouble was, I had been inadequate all along, I simply hadn’t thought about it.' - Sylvia Plath