Here For You

I think I forget that I’m worth it.

Currently, I’m struggling between giving myself a shot and pulling myself down.

It’s a hard argument to have with yourself on an everyday basis. On the one hand, you know you’re an interesting, lively person who deserves every good thing that comes your way. On the other hand, a small voice whispers in your ear about how you might not be pretty enough or interesting enough.

I get lost in my inner dialogue and my inner vision of myself.

So, I’m here to try and give everyone I know that little push towards the better life.

You are good enough. You are definitely pretty enough.

You’re more interesting, clever, witty and hilarious than you give yourself credit for.

People always tell you to shut up that little derogatory voice in your head but I think you should let it tell it’s little story, incite it’s little judgement’s and then tell it it’s wrong.

That little voice is you. Tell yourself you are wrong. Tell yourself you love you!

You deserve as much as you work for, so work for it!

Don’t give up the fight before it begins, life is here for you. I am here for you.

Reality

It is not incredibly common to find a book the reminds you of your childhood dreams. Reminders of hidden passageways and daring adventures that make life glimmer with new possibilities.

I found one today, or rather yesterday. I have spent the last 48 hours drinking in this new gem, wholly engrossed in its pages. That is when you know you’ve found a diamond in the rough. When your surroundings take a backseat and your senses are overwhelmed with a new world, a new life.

A book can change a life. Not in any material way but maybe in a way that adds shadow and depth to an imagination, that changes a persons perceptions ever so slightly. It may not be for the better but it is still there.

My book added some depth to my day. A story of a boy, young and brilliant, assailed with tragedy, romance, and the heroism of youth. It made secret passageways and fantastical events seem almost possible again.

It also made me ache for a reality that I can’t reach in my waking hours. Walking home was like coming out of a deep sleep. It started with the strong belief in the impossible and then, as slow as a winters chill, reality crept into the edges of my vision.

Reality is a cruel thing, crueler than any word or person. A word may sting and a person may cause pain for awhile but reality can withstand the breadth of time. Pain will fade but reality is forever a thorn in my side.

Without reality I can have my passageways.

Without reality I can be a child.

Unfortunately, until I can escape reality I will be here and I will continue to dream my own reality.

Uncertain Future

Recently I’ve found myself facing the future.

In doing this, I realised I actually didn’t have anything concrete in mind. Sure, I’m doing an amazing degree and I have a stable job albeit as boring as you can get but I feel like I’m missing something.

Usually I would read a fantasy book about people getting everything their own special way or watch a TV show that makes me feel like special things can just happen and every ones life is exciting. This led to the depressing thought of; “Well, I don’t have super powers and I am no longer within the age group where vampires or supernatural events change your life forever…”

What do you do when your childhood starts drift away and your left with a boring job and an uncertain future?

My reaction has been to furtively search for 1. A better job 2. Maybe a career? 3. Start to get frustrated 4. Write a blog post illustrating how futile my search has been.

In doing this I have, however, discovered that I want to work in my university and I am also going to find a new book or TV show so that maybe adulthood will stay in the hazy distance and leave me with my teenage vampire crushes and superhero fantasies.

Goodnight xx

Release

Slowly, I will turn my limbs to iron. With this fire I will carve myself out of my prison.

If it takes a day, or a decade. I will be released.

I will walk a path across the world that shimmers with hope and determination.

I will create my own strength. I will end my own suffering.

If I falter or if I fall, I will wrench myself up and shrug off my weaknesses.

My heart will be made of fire and ice. Capricious, yet stolid against my foes.

Even if that foe is the reflection I see in the mirror.

I will crack my own facade and reveal the true self I keep hidden.

It will be glorious.

It will be me.

Sister

I was born first to help you through the hard times, to give you a gentle hand when you were in need.

You came into the world and didn’t even need me.

You were tough, beautiful, and opinionated, you didn’t need me at all.

It threw me a bit, I didn’t know how to respond to you.

It was like giving advice to an elder sibling, they just look down their nose and laugh.

I still try. I live my life, still thinking of ways to help you along.

Whether it’s something I see that would brighten your day, or something I know that would help you out.

Sometimes, you ignore my advice or throw it in my face. I don’t know how to react.

It comes out in words and actions that aren’t how I truly feel.

In the end I know you still need me. Even if you don’t know it yourself.

Once, you told me all the women in your life have always disappointed you.

I always hated that you were let down by so many people, myself included.

So, I’ll be here. Telling you my stories and experiences. Maybe one day you’ll listen and talk to me too.

Déjà vu

Believing in premonitions is like telling someone the weather man is actually a psychic.

I know that the weather man is just a regular John, reading off a teleprompter, because that’s how life works.

Today though, I feel like I glimpsed a fragment of my future.

It felt like strong déjà vu, like catching sight of something through dirty glass.

You know it’s there but you can’t define the edges.

There is a warmly lit kitchen with chestnut benches that are littered with cooking tit-bits and unopened mail. It feels homey, with the warm smell of fresh coffee pervading the space.

The wide, flat tiles are cold again my bare feat and my sweater is itching my neck while I hurry into the kitchen. I look around for something, sorting through different papers on the bench.

Through a french-style window above the sink I can see the garden, leaves still rimmed with frost. Winter is just beginning, the sun would soon melt the ice and enhance the insistent greenness.

Suddenly, something clutches at my jeans, scrabbling to get my attention. A pudgy boy, bundled in clothes grins up at me, hands sticky with honey and crumbs.

Smiling warmly, I reach down and pick up a wriggly mass of happiness.

This is the scene that plays like a broken record, imprinted in my eyelids.

Whether it happens or not, it’s a nice feeling believing that someday your efforts will all be worth it.

Mania

You’re addicted to the your own high, soaring within your own mind.

You forget us and fly towards the sky, crowing with wonderment.

When you forget us we’re left alone, in our peaceful world of sanity.

Until you crash down beside us.

You crash hard and fast, sinking into the soil with your head hung low.

You don’t know how to control it, you never could bear to try.

Every time you pass us, you glance by and remember our world.

But then the mania takes hold and you lose focus.

That’s how you lost us. In our peaceful world of your up’s and down’s.