Heartbeats fading

I lay brokenhearted in the night for years, crying tears that were such a waste. So much effort, so much energy lost, trying to recover what I just gave away. But you know something? I'd do it all again, just to feel your heartbeat again as you lie next to me. To feel your skin on mine, the touch of your lips. The way you made my heart beat faster just by looking at me a certain way. I miss all of that. I miss you.

But now it's time to put you away. It's been weeks since I looked at pictures of you, stroking your face in my mind, and wishing against everything that I hadn't been such a fool. But it's time to forgive myself for things I can no longer change. You are not mine. You never will be again. I can be grateful for the time that we did have together. There will be days when I will still ache for you. Especially now that I'm determined to go it alone. But now I'm strong enough to remind myself that it's no longer my right to hold you, to have you close.

You will no longer be the standard I measure every man against. Your smile in my mind will blur and let me see others clearly once more. Those heartbeats of yours that I was convinced beat in time with mine? They will fade from my ears, never to be heard again. The warmth of your skin, the strength-under-silk feel of your body, will no longer be impressed upon my skin.

One day, when I've found my own strength again; when I've got back all of myself that I let myself lose when you left me, then I'll find love again. And this time, I'll grab it with both hands, and I'll hold it close. And I'll treat it the way I should. Thanks to you. :)

Losing the hurt

It's been a while, and I still miss you. I've tried talking myself out of it, unsuccessfully, and just given in.

The good news is you're no longer a sharp pain in my heart. When someone mentions you, I no longer store it away to examine later, to treasure it and cry over it in private.

You're still a huge part of my life, whether I'm being guarded or not, something will always creep up that reminds me of you. But when I whisper your name now, it's a charm. A reminder of something beautiful that will always be kept safe inside me. The bitterness is gone, the hurt has drained away.

But I'll always miss you. And wish you were here, with me.

Unfair

I've had some good days lately. I'm grateful for them, and am determined to enjoy them while they last. I've learnt that even in the insanity that currently surrounds my life, I can find a space for myself sometimes, and be at peace. It's a fragile bubble, one that bursts often, and painfully, but surrounds me again. I owe it to my friends for helping it stay around me as long as it has, this time. Things are so different when you have people around you to hug you, people you know you can really rely on. It doesn't always make the actual problems easier to solve, but it does make life more bearable. I'm glad that this time, I'm trying harder to pull my friends close, and not push them away like the last. But maybe that's because I rediscovered an old friend without whom I'd be lost now.

She gives me strength that I'd never have found if not for her. She inspires me, with her faith in me, to try and be better though I feel like it's a hopelessly lost cause. Her sense of adventure, her longing to try things that she couldn't do because of circumstances... it makes me ashamed that I, who should be able to do them, am scared to try. Watching her give and be strong, supporting everyone around her, I want to be more like that. She cares, even though it hurts, showing me what it's like to really love selflessly.

I look at her, and wonder why she doesn't see it - the beauty that's in her. Her friends see it, they're drawn to her, and she mothers them and takes care of them, and never seems to see that they're there because of here. That they are a group because of her love holding them together still. I wonder why she waits for a man to tell her who to be, when inside, she's all I'd love to be. I hope she never compromises who she is again. That she finds the strength to grow into the amazing individual we all see in her. I also hope she finds the man who complements her, and who loves her for herself. A man who has the strength and belief in himself and in her, to handle the amazing person she is now, and is still to become. And that they make gorgeous little babies who climb trees and swing on gates and drive me completely mad.

She's funny, and bad and crazy and silly. She makes mistakes, and through it all, she gets up and keeps going... with a little help from her friends, her dogs, and sometimes her contrary cat. She's no saint. She's my friend.

I started writing this to complain about something someone else did to me. But I've realised that it doesn't matter how unfair some stupid acquaintance is to me. It doesn't matter, because the people who have been there all along are the ones who are important.

I've been praising just one of my old friends, but I have as much to be grateful for in my other old friends who have been there as well, if not always, because they had their own lives to deal with. They've brightened my day too, with surprise calls, and the little things that mean so much. Then there's new friends. They haven't been tested by time, so I've no idea how long they'll be here. But my life is a brighter place thanks to them. They don't know about this blog, so they'll never see it. But I hope someday soon, I can tell them exactly how much they've done for me.

There are two people that I do have to thank on this blog. Guiding Spirit and Delilah, your comments have reminded me that I'm not alone out here in the great big internet. A little hope goes a long way, and you've given me quite a lot. Thank you. =)

Cynicism

The more I see of you, the more cynical I get.

You were my first love, the man who came before all other men. The one I loved unconditionally and totally, and the one who let me down the hardest. Every time I think you've changed a little, it just turns out you're just using us again.

I guess you do love us in your own way, but I hate how you see us as resources, to be thought of only when you need something, and to be put on the shelf when not required. That's not family.

Sigh. It's funny how I was relatively well-adjusted until you brought my world-view crashing down.

Now I'm just another girl with daddy issues. Sad.

Two-Step

Step forward, step back, forward, then back.

They taught me how to dance... and then I learnt to dance with you, and forgot everything else. This is not how it's supposed to be.

I should have known better. I'm old enough and smart enough, but I've never been detached enough. Never drag someone else into a life that's too messed up to hold its own. No one new can fix what you yourself can't, not if it involves your heart.

If I'd met you earlier, or later... But 'what if's don't matter anyway.

And it's the same cycle, over and over, like a beginner's waltz where no one knows any steps but the three.

I want to let you go. I do. I swear I do. You're happier now, from what I hear, and there are people who will love me and need me just as I am. But I need you.

I call you sometimes, just to hear your voice. I text you, hoping against hope that you will respond, if only to say you never want to hear from me again, because I crave that connection. I never thought I'd sink so low, not for anyone. But I have, and I can't talk myself out of it. I don't understand. Is it because I wronged you? Is it because you left, and not me? Am I losing touch with reality from hoping so much? I don't know how to let you go, and so, everyday, I play back pictures of us, all ending with you walking away. I've told you I wouldn't try to talk to you anymore. I don't know how I will, but I'll try. Forgive me if I fail sometimes. It's only because I miss you and I love you in a way I'll never understand. Which is why I'm trying to let you go, even though I fail. I wish you'd talk to me, tell me again that there's nothing here. Hopefully if I heard it enough, it'd sink in. But maybe you know me better than I know myself, and it'll never be enough. Maybe it's just not worth the effort for you. The thought hurts, so why won't it cure me? This has gone on too long.

To the other one. The one who saved me, against all odds. I thought that gratitude would be enough. That I could give you my life without all of my heart. How stupid could I be? And why did you let me? I used your love for me. I may not have known it, but how can that make it better? I love you too, but not enough. How can that make sense? And after what I've been through, how can I expect you to go through it too?

I'm sorry for the mess that is my life. A month ago, I'd have given up, I'd have said I couldn't take it anymore, and I'd have tried to kill myself. Today, I have to go on. I'm not sure whether that's strength, or stupidity.

Live, Love, Lose

Standing at yet another edge of sanity, looking back, I'm wondering whether the choice to jump off was worth it. But what was there left to do? Latent hatred, roiling anger,and the desire to no longer be here, do this leaves me speechless. I wonder why you, and why you had the impact on me that you did. In picking up the pieces, I keep finding bits missing. It wasn't your fault, the wrong time, wrong place, wrong person mess of it all. Maybe it was mine, and I am sorry. But I've said I'm sorry so many times. And what good would it do even if we were to be friends again? What could I do with a friendship like yours now?

I have everything I need, and yet memories of you claw at me. I hide them out of sight, where no one can see, where no one will ever know but me, and pull them out to flail myself with when I'm in need of no further pain. Someday, maybe I will let myself free, in the meantime, the penance goes on. Maybe that's why I need your friendship, so I can let that go. But what use is it asking you? I've been nothing to you for so long now that it wouldn't matter if I asked.

My most recent ex-love, the most tumultuous of them all, I dream of you still. Different from the others in ways I can't begin to define. Do you ever let go of something like that, or does it seep into the flaws of your being, coating them over, giving them a different shape?

I've lost so much, and yet I've gained so much. Here's to the future.

The Way Things Are

I haven't been able to write. I've been blocked, completely. Nothing at all, not little snatches of poetry, not my thoughts or feelings. They've all been stuck inside me for a while now. And I find that scary. Because I've always been able to write. It's the one thing that could set me free, give me the release I couldn't find from talking to other people. Having that outlet cut off made me feel lost, like part of me was dammed. I don't feel like I have it back yet, but I'm clawing my way there.

Things have been happening lately that I didn't think would ever happen, and I don't know how I feel about them. And they all happen at once, or in a sequence that knocks me off balance and keeps me on my knees. Every time I think I've fought my way back to some semblance of equilibrium, something else comes at me and leaves me reeling. I've always wondered if it's my fault, and the way things are, I'm going back to believing it. I know I shouldn't. Things just.. happen.

It hurt when dad left. I cried myself to sleep and it makes me feel so - weak. I don't think I ever really had a hard shell, but at least I had the illusion of one. But I'll accept that, 'cause he's my father.

And then yesterday, I cried again. It's strange, this feeling of loss. I thought I'd get used to it. Maybe I will. But I don't want to, so why should I have to get used to it. Aren't we supposed to save the things that are important to us? But how do you know at which point it goes from saving something valuable to clinging in vain to something irredeemable?

Staying True

What is truth, anyway?

Is it in anything I say?

I swear I'll never lie -

That I'd rather die

It's so easy to believe

Even as I deceive.

Truth is a dream -

the clippetty-clip-clop

of the high heels

of a woman on the hop.

Prick-prick-pricking,

stabbing the stone

though she's walking alone

Truth is a lie

until you die.

It's all in your head,

the black and the red,

debits and credits -

nothing truly fits.

Meaningless words for the most part, but they fill my head. And it makes sense to me, somewhere, deep down inside where I'm trying to stay true to who I really am. I change so much and so often that I can barely find that truth now. You'd think that basic principles wouldn't change. Like love being sacred. Or always being truthful, no matter what the cost. Don't cheat, don't lie, don't steal. Those are basic. They don't change. Or do they? I can't tell anymore.

It's so easy to slip a little. Relax one little rule, because, really, who does it hurt? Just this time, right? We won't do it again. And the next time, it comes just that much easier. Is crime a habit? I believe it could be. You never hurt the ones you love. Or do you hurt them the most? I don't know.

We all try, we shoot for the stars, aiming for the impossible in search of the God in whose image we were created. Did God expect us to be perfect when he created us, or dependent on his love to save us from the way he made us? How fair is that anyway? To create humans with hopes and dreams, with a conscience - to design them to want to be good - no, that should be Good, with a G - and then say OK, you're not perfect, I'll forgive you if you make mistakes, you're just human. It's like saying "You have to want to be the best, but really, if you're not, it's just because I made you that way, don't worry about it - but try anyway."

Is the choice between good and evil just sport for unseen beings, or really the daily struggle to save the world that it seems to us? Is there any point to it at all?

Hello

You might've noticed this whole blog has been in the third person so far. In case you were wondering, which I doubt you were, 'cause no one seems to read this anyway, it was this way because I wanted to distance myself from the part of me that felt all those things.

This has been my venting blog for a while now, it's just that the venting takes a different form from F###F###F###F###!!! though that would be nice. I just can't make myself say the word unless I'm really sad or angry. Comes of living with your grandparents for too long, I guess. :D

Why, then, am I taking a break from the third person? Maybe because I want to make this my main blog. Maybe because the last few weeks have been difficult, and I want to connect with something, even if it's just a blog.

So, since I'm starting over, I thought I'd say hi. So. erm. Hi. *awkward wave*

I'm tired, I'm sad, I'm hurt. And I know I have to keep pretending nothing happened so I won't worry my family. I'll figure this out. I know I will.

The Darkness Returns

She doesn't know how to begin. She takes a deep breath and tries to start over, but none of it makes any sense. She can't remember how this happened. How she ended up here, surrounded by people, feeling all alone again. She thinks it's funny that she's feeling this way, because all she remembers is a warm, fuzzy feeling of happiness, belonging... and then this.

She knows it's her fault, whether she did it consciously, or whether her subconscious was trying to re-create the environment which it'd been in most of her life. But she can't remember why or what, it's all just one huge blur. The wrong choices, people hurt.

She remembers pain. Overwhelming pain. Drowning in it, the flood consuming her, seeping through her, welcoming her back. She caused pain and that pain caused her pain. The knowledge that it couldn't be changed, that sometimes, there's just nothing for it but to leave, sinking in finally.

Rebirth

She closes her eyes and slips into slumber but at the stroke of midnight, wakes. The darkness surrounds her, making her claustrophobic. She feels trapped. She closes her eyes to keep the darkness out, but that just brings it closer, into her. She sets it aside, makes it part of her, and yet apart from her.

She watches over it, nourishes it, makes it grow...

She watches and waits. Somewhere inside her there's a stirring. Something fighting free.

She lets go... and it is born.

Freedom's price

She watches, jealous, as her other self flies free. Wishing she could go along, but tied to the murk that controls her mind. Writhing streamers of envy reach out after her higher self, who laughs as she evades the gloomy strands...

Just once, she would like to be the one that escapes. The one who tastes of the freedom and the joy. But she is trapped. Trapped by her lusts, her hatreds, even her loves. Her love of the light keeps her here; bound, so part of her spirit may remain free, unplagued by the demons tearing at her now.

Sacrificed to the darkness, she pleads with her alter-ego, begs for rescue from this cloying fog that surrounds her. But she is too far away, drowning in the mud of deception and death, while somewhere in the clouds, the joyous soul flies free.

She is free. She is trapped. She knows that the Light One is part of her, born of the consumation of her love of Beauty. But the cord has been cut, and Light One, nourished by all the power that she had to give, has taken wing.

She is left incomplete.

Alone.

Empty.

Defeated.

Witchcraft

She knows what these witches can do to her. She has thirsted for their knowledge, longed to learn their craft. She sees the allure of the darkness they worship, perhaps better than some of them.

She would have been one of them, but threads of sanity hold her back. They tie her to her family, to love, to all things good. They keep her from releasing life, and embracing the darkness. So she clings to all that is pure, shutting out the demons, not letting them near.

She prays for redemption. Not really for her soul, but to ensure the safety of the ones who hold what's left of her heart.