Wednesday, April 20, 2016

meaning x 2

i am deeply sleep deprived and have been typing this sentence for over 3 minutes because i keep typing wrong shit instead of the right shit - you know?
it has occurred to me that i should just start writing in a journal instead of on here, but it just seems simpler than to keep looking for books to write in.
i tried something new today. it wasn't amazing, but it really wasn't bad.
i made my best friend listen to my snarky remarks all morning because it turns out trying new things while pmsing terribly isn't the greatest idea...
as a feminist, i should probably not blame my irrational behaviour on pms, but please be assured, men of the world, that male or female, pmsing or not pmsing, i would always be irrational.

anyway... amidst all of that griping and randomly being pushed into some temple to pray (i didn't),
i watched the sun rise from above these rocks bordering the sea...
and i'll tell you one thing - sunrises aren't overrated.

after all's said and done, the question remains -
if the world were to end tomorrow, would you rather have missed this view?
and maybe it's the sentimentality talking again, but...
no, i wouldn't have.

Saturday, April 16, 2016

saturday evening

there a just some people in life...
i mean, maybe i'm just the sentimental type
(not sure how this happened, i never was)
but there are some people in life who you never expect to stick on as long as they have
and now you're like wondering how you ever made it two days without talking to them.
and to think 'til i was 12, i didn't even know how to spell her name
(it may not seem like such a travesty, but it is to me, and if anyone dared spell her name wrong, i would have to kill them off, brutally and abruptly, like a GoT character)
(oh, i don't watch GoT... i just thought it was a safe assumption to make)

i woke up feeling weird today
(nothing to do with anything, i think all the pickle i so freely eat finally dehydrated the fuck out of me)
and i did nothing all morning except lie around, brooding on the nature of grief and why it's so easy to judge people on how they choose to deal with it
(i mean, maybe some people just find it easier to go to a place that's distracting and dance on some shady music and that's their closure on the matter. i don't even know how to deal with grief. i just meander along aimlessly 'til it's gone.)
i feel the need to explain myself to everyone sometimes
and that is why, conversations that can be 30 seconds long often end up being half an hour spiels about backstories that no one really gives a crap about
you may ask yourself what kind of 25 year old does this sort of thing, but that's just the person i am, i suppose
(i have learned to embrace and somewhat control it - unlike my tendency to wear pyjamas in public which flags on unfettered) (much to my mother's displeasure)

i've never, ever had to explain this to her
she just gets it - or something
(or she just has an amazing bounty of patience that never seems to run out with me)
maybe she genuinely cares about every little detail about every little thing that happens in my day to day life
(i doubt it, my life is extremely dull and after being friends for 13 years or whatever amount of time, i'm sure she's picked up my penchant for creating drama out of the ordinary)

it's an underrated thing to have a really really really good friend in your life
people stupidly lose sight of it
i lose sight of it all the time, trying to prove john donne wrong
(i am an island, damnit)
but then
sometimes saturdays don't have to be about the next week
or figuring out the larger picture
or attaining inner peace

sometimes saturdays are just watching madagascar 2 for the 500th time
quoting king julian with burnt mouths full of maggi
(and lead, probably, considering it was banned and all)

but that's okay
that's great
actually, it's pretty fantastic.

maybe i should be giving thanks for her one of these days
instead of all the ridiculous crap i'm constantly wishing for
(except for the one about a new computer. i really do need that.)

Friday, April 8, 2016

the last thing i will ever write about you.

i let you see me the way i see me.
so here it is -
before the dones are dusted;
the final one.

i see you
you think you're made of gloom
flooded by by darkness
surrounded by shadows
but when i look at you
you're a beacon
all light
a blazing thing
it's what you are
what you've always been

and if you ever find me again
if that day should ever come
of this you can be sure
i will illuminate every bone in my body
and turn my nerves to lanterns
i will fill you with the kind of light
that makes every dark part of you disappear
i will cling to you so hard
till we are fused together
every atom of me
every atom of you
in the sun in the trees in the wind
nothing and no one
can pry us apart
(not even you)

Tuesday, March 22, 2016

nearing the end of a conversation.

lately, i've been thinking a lot about soulmates.
the general concept of it and the idea of mine, in particular.

now, i'm not so much a romantic person. i know this blog may make it seem like i'm an obsessive teenager who can't get her head out of some fuckall pink cloud - i'm not.
well, not a teenager, anyway.

in any case, the point i was trying to make was that i'm not really that into traditional romance. i've never been on a date, never celebrated valentine's day, those month anniversary type things make me feel weird and if anyone ever sang to me in public, i would probably die of shame.

but... soulmates. that's a different ball game altogether. not that i ever thought that i would meet someone and automatically rise two feet off the ground on a zephyr while violins played in my head - not at all. but for someone as - for lack of a better word - as prickly as myself, there had to be some weirdo who could call the situation like it is and take my various neuroses in their stride.
thus, soulmate.

blame it on the heavy diet of indie romances i grew up on, or the hundreds of fantasy fiction books i read every night, or even on j.k. rowling, but i really did think there would be a hermione to my ron. i believed - pretty strongly, actually - that i would have a nick to my norah, a carol to my melvin, a heathcliff to my catherine... the Netflix soulmate.

so far, i've had 2.

as it happens, both turned out to be total jackasses over whom i lost several hundred pounds of my self respect and several months of my time.

so, i thought -
Romantic Comedies That Fuck You Up To The Point Where You Believe In Soulmates - 1
Me - 0
(admittedly, neither are great team names but i'm working on it)

i mean, if something you believe leads you to crying in a taxi on some obscure, tacky 90's song that barely anyone has heard of, there must be something wrong with your beliefs. right?


the thing is, maybe there are just various parts of your soul that you hand to different people... not in a creepy horcruxy way. no.
but maybe there are keepers of your soul, borrowers of it and still others who bring your to attention parts of it that you didn't know existed.

the problem is, what happens when someone, all at once, awakens and borrows a large part of you.... and then, when they try to give it back, you don't want it anymore because the only way you knew it to be awake was with them.

see, that's not a problem, either. because, eventually, given enough time, anybody can stop mattering. given enough time, no matter how thick skulled you are (like i am), you DO finally realise that people are guests... some overstay their welcome, some leave far too quickly. but your soul? that's all you. and even when the guests leave, they don't take any part of you with them, but instead, leave just a little bit of a finger print in your spirit.

so know this, just like i must, that when somebody borrows a part of you and treats it casually, they're lame. i'm sure there is some poetic way to say that, except that poetry's not my thing.

rumi calls it a half-love. and half-love is never enough.

and no matter how stupid you are, how embarrassing you think you're being and how idiotic your situation seems to you, remember that when you have to reluctantly take your soul back from someone, remember they refined it just a little bit more and you can keep that forever. as for the jerk who thought it was too trivial or complicated or dark or messy to keep it,  that person will eventually disappear forever.

i don't know why i feel optimistic today. nothing particularly thrilling happened today. maybe it is just time. or maybe it's that fine line between illusion and magic. or maybe it is that i want to keep my soul, whether you like it or not.

Friday, March 18, 2016


when my blood turns to
l i q u o r
i stop fighting the urge
to write about
y o u

like a ghost
you tread in every step of every path i take
and like a ghost
i can't leave you behind

of course you frighten me
with all the what ifs
the ups and downs
the sudden appearances in nooks where i find shelter
and like a ghost
you have all the power to
c o n t r o l
this room
this space
this person

i keep taking steps back from you
and pretending
p r o g r e s s
but like a ghost
i can never really brush your ectoplasm
from my skin

everytime i am around your infuriating half-aliveness
(is that a word)
i am back to
s q u a r e   o n e
a much lesser version of me
than i pretend to be

like a ghost
i try everyday to
e x o r c i s e   y o u
from every inch of my being
but like some stubborn phantom
you refuse to leave

it's easy to forget
how hard it is
to be haunted
by those who are
still alive

Sunday, March 13, 2016

green eyes

i hate long island ice teas
i hate not being in control
i hate the idea that i may not be winning
but most of all
i hate you
i really hate you

except that
i really don't

one day i'll be lying on my bed
pretending to be dead
and all of this will seem really hilarious
but right now
it's not that funny

Sunday, March 6, 2016

for my favourite girl

my dearest friend, the best one in the world.

if only you could see you
the way i do -
how beautiful,
how kind,
how lovely you are

how everything your soul touches
is made beautiful -
like a thousand lights igniting
all at once
illuminating every nerve that is fortunate enough
to come its way

my beautiful girl
you are made of only the best things -
of breeze
and gentle tides
and spring

me, i am an inferno
ravaging anything in its path

but you -
you are moonshine on perfect nights
and the perfect amount of sun
on perfect afternoons

you twist yourself into knots
searching for something good
but everything about you is
so kind
so beautiful
and so lovely 

the best people deserve
the best things -
and beyond all
this fog
and thunder
and rain
the best things are coming

if i saw me 
the way i see you
what a world it could be.

Friday, March 4, 2016

meaninglessness means

i never said your name much
there was never any reason to
it was always that throwaway sort of thing that you can take for granted
and i did
i took it for granted
like i would always have the luxury of saying it whenever i wanted
for however long i wanted.

but when everything is done
now that it's all just a pile of dust in a dirty corner in an abandoned plan for a building
it's weird how a few syllables can suddenly mean so much

in secret corners where you don't exist
i say your name
like some well kept secret only i'm in on
the fleeting bits of fire that ignite in the pit of my stomach
the momentary thrill i get from saying it out loud
is enough
enough for me
enough for now.

it has to be.

Sunday, February 28, 2016

snap out of it

this room is filled with polite restraint
and fairy lights.

we fidget nervously with our sanity
while waiting
for something better to come along

or maybe just more distracting than either you or i.

magic 8 balls are my new worst enemies
disguised as new best friends -
i ask them questions and they only serve to remind me
that all my dark that you touched
and turned into hibiscus iced tea
is just that -
hibiscus iced tea.

i construct entire worlds of what you may be thinking;
an alternate reality where the words you speak
and the passage of time are directly
under my control.

but that comes with its own problems -
such as the constant reminder that
i live in this universe alone.

building fantasies is pleasant
tending to them as one might a beloved plant;
real life makes a mockery of all the things
i so painstakingly construct in my mind,
constantly drilling into me
how little control i actually have over what happens.

it could just be your inconsistencies
and the constantly rumpled offensive sighs
i love sighs.

or maybe it's only
a shady aftermath
an oasis of memory
just sunlight and smoke
and the residue of forgotten laughter 
that sticks to my skin long after you're gone.