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.

Savior

Eagerly, I wait.

Squirming and fidgeting, thinking of how you’ll be or what you’ll look like.

It’s like something just out of your reach, a flash in the corner of your eye.

This feeling of trepidation and excitement.

Whether this is a dream or reality, I don’t mind.

This sweet torture caresses my mind, unconscious or awake.

You’ll hold my hand, smile at me gently, even berate me for my eagerness.

I know you’re coming but I can’t stand this waiting.

It might actually be killing me. My soul was torn in half when we were born.

Whether it was on the same day or years apart, we were meant for each other.

Like an old Greek myth, we will meet and we will become whole again.

My mysterious savior, I hope you’re searching for me because I am searching for you.

Personal

I don’t put any real value in physical features because I truly believe that beautiful people are the people who are what I believe to be ‘self-actualised’.

These people always appear to have things; friends, talent, unconditional love from every side. These are the people that make my chest hurt to look at.

These are the people that have decided to be happy and I know I’m not there yet. Still far from it and probably in denial, too. It’s hard to become ‘self-actualised’ when you physically have something holding you back.

Imagine you couldn’t leave your room, dress how you want, act how you want, or even just hug someone without something holding you back. Something that makes you have an almost paralyzing barrier around you. This is how I am because of circumstances outside of my control. I can’t change nature.

This is my daily obstacle. I never talk about it. No one knows about it. But, it’s always there for me. I’d like to blame all my problems on this one thing but I am human. I know it’s not this thing that makes it hard for me to be happy.

So, I shall continue to live with it and like every other person I will try and overcome my obstacle.

Unwelcome Lessons

Currently, I am being tested. I am in the ‘pre-learning’ stage of some mysterious life lesson and if I’m not I want a refund.

When someone goes and squanders something that is valuable to you, but not necessarily important in any real sense, the propensity for disproportionate responses is large. This is the current situation I am going through and it’s not easy to not point fingers and make threats.

Being in the ‘pre-learning’ phase sucks because you can’t yet fully understand why you have to be the one experiencing the lesson. Why can’t it be someone else? Why couldn’t those people just not have done what they did? There are endless unanswerable questions that will follow you in an ordeal. This is my stage of inconsequential grief for an inanimate object that I procured on a commonly celebrated coming of age birthday.

It’s a small thing but it has taken up space in my mind for the last couple of hours and I’m waiting for the lesson to come to light. It would be nice, seeing as I am more than a bit upset about the whole business, but as always things don’t usually accommodate for your suffrage.

In light of this I will assume my own lesson; don’t leave your valuables with drunk people.