I don't like when he takes
2 hours to write back.
He might be speaking to
Somebody better.
Or worse
I might be.
I don't like watching Cops
At tea time because
It reminds me of kicking back
At my dads with beer.
We don't speak any more.
I don't like busy buses
I get offended when people
Sit next to me but also
When they sit next to
Somebody else.
I don't like mushrooms
Their texture is just wrong.
I don't like snow
I can't leave the house
It reddens my hands
It's too similar to my heart.
I don't like drunken men
And their obscene slurs
And their rowdy auras.
I don't like violence
If someone was
To be violent to me
I would turn around
Let them hit the other cheek.
I can't stand most people
They don't talk about anything
They don't know the books
The films
The music
That I do
They speak of nothing.
I don't like how different I am
How I am made out to be
I am an outcast
Drowning.
I don't like talking about my problems
When I am sad
I cannot open my mouth
And make the worry come out
It's not that I don't want to
I just cannot.
I don't like screaming children
Because they don't have much to scream about
Why do they waste the best years of their life
Screaming on an hour long bus tide?
I don't like when you get jealous
Because you don't trust me
And think I don't love you
When you are the best thing to happen to me
Since... well... me.
I don't like irony
It's stupid and over used
It lost its humour
A long time ago.
I don't like when people don't say please
Or thank you
Take 2 seconds to say it
It does not hurt
Like most things in this world.
I don't like people
Who think mocking people is cool
Jealousy makes people spiteful
But makes other people
Kill themselves.
I don't like people
Running across the road
Just wait a few seconds
Or press the button.
I don't like how
Stupid people get famous
But clever ones are put
In a box
And left
For hundreds of years
Until their work is discovered.
I don't like when people
Make stupid poems
Out of things they dislike
I hate that they can't
Find anything nice
We write about things
That are shit in our lives
Forget about the good
But the things we don't like
Are the things that somehow
Mean more to us.
Life is strange
And that is one thing I like.
Monday, November 24, 2014
Thursday, November 6, 2014
The Soldier in the Battle Against Your Hauntings
We all have our pasts. We all have things we're not proud of. The Sublime gives us the idea that the highest amount of pain will always be more intense than the highest amount of pleasure. It's true. We think of a bad memory and we get a twisting in our stomach, it will linger and haunt and the more you try not to think about it, the more intense the memory becomes, but we do a nod and acknowledging smile at a good memory. Nothing more. It's human nonetheless. The person sat next to you on the bus has their own dismal souvenirs. Just not everybody carries them around. Some people lock their momentos in a closet. Closed forever. Untouched.
The only way we can conquer our hauntings is if we find peace within ourselves. If we accept and love ourselves. It's difficult. It could take years. Years of looking in the mirror and not liking what you see. Years of pain, heartache, crying on the bathroom floor, blood everywhere wondering where it went wrong and where your saviour is.
Frankly, most spend time waiting for their saviour and end up in a vegetated state. You forget to live while waiting. You forget that you cannot save yourself. You can.
You may suffer at the harsh hand of injustice. You might get horrible looks, obscene rumours spread about you and your name might crop up frequently in a dark light. It might get to you. It might make you doubt your worth, your existence, the purity of your soul.
It's unfair that you should suffer because of someone else's insecurity. This is where you can acquire the upper hand. This is where you become secure. You look at yourself in the mirror and begin to pick out the features you like, your pretty features. We both know you have them. Do you fear pride? Do you find terror in the possibility of being called pretentious? What is wrong with these attributes? What is actually wrong with liking yourself?
The only way to be happy is to be content. If there's an aspect of your life you don't like, change it. If it's not tangible then try and find a little joy in it. Smile more. Dress in what you like to wear. Don't listen to anybody else. Jealousy makes the nicest people spiteful. It's difficult. Sometimes the voices surround you, you drown.
Injustice affects everybody, on all sorts of scales. How can it be that the most horrible of people are the most liked? Fear. Tell me, would you rather people be friends with you because they actually like you, or because they're scared you'll turn on them?
You are not alone. You are not half as bad as you think, or as everyone makes you out to be. We have pasts, we make mistakes, but it is how we utilise these mistakes that makes us who we are. Be proud of who you are. You've made it this far, it's time to be happy, it's time to throw in the towel on self hate. It's time to live, it's time to breathe. You have not tasted the air if you have not ever loved yourself. Your past is who you were. It's time to focus on who you are. Hauntings come and go, but their a lot less nauseating when you begin to enjoy them.
People who make you feel like you're worth something will come and go. It's what people do. Their indecisive. They're temperamental. You are too in someways but we don't see it ourselves. We are not inconsistent when it comes to our own being. You will always be there for yourself. While it is indeed possible to break your own heart, you are also the only one with the power to mend it again.
Love yourself and love others. If you suffer because of others, love them even more. Be bigger than them. Be better. Don't just aspire, inspire too. Inspire yourself and you'll begin to inspire others. True beauty comes from confidence, which comes from liking who you actually are.
Make that change today. "Nobody can make you feel inferior without your consent".
You're a soldier in the battle against your hauntings, so fight.
The only way we can conquer our hauntings is if we find peace within ourselves. If we accept and love ourselves. It's difficult. It could take years. Years of looking in the mirror and not liking what you see. Years of pain, heartache, crying on the bathroom floor, blood everywhere wondering where it went wrong and where your saviour is.
Frankly, most spend time waiting for their saviour and end up in a vegetated state. You forget to live while waiting. You forget that you cannot save yourself. You can.
You may suffer at the harsh hand of injustice. You might get horrible looks, obscene rumours spread about you and your name might crop up frequently in a dark light. It might get to you. It might make you doubt your worth, your existence, the purity of your soul.
It's unfair that you should suffer because of someone else's insecurity. This is where you can acquire the upper hand. This is where you become secure. You look at yourself in the mirror and begin to pick out the features you like, your pretty features. We both know you have them. Do you fear pride? Do you find terror in the possibility of being called pretentious? What is wrong with these attributes? What is actually wrong with liking yourself?
The only way to be happy is to be content. If there's an aspect of your life you don't like, change it. If it's not tangible then try and find a little joy in it. Smile more. Dress in what you like to wear. Don't listen to anybody else. Jealousy makes the nicest people spiteful. It's difficult. Sometimes the voices surround you, you drown.
Injustice affects everybody, on all sorts of scales. How can it be that the most horrible of people are the most liked? Fear. Tell me, would you rather people be friends with you because they actually like you, or because they're scared you'll turn on them?
You are not alone. You are not half as bad as you think, or as everyone makes you out to be. We have pasts, we make mistakes, but it is how we utilise these mistakes that makes us who we are. Be proud of who you are. You've made it this far, it's time to be happy, it's time to throw in the towel on self hate. It's time to live, it's time to breathe. You have not tasted the air if you have not ever loved yourself. Your past is who you were. It's time to focus on who you are. Hauntings come and go, but their a lot less nauseating when you begin to enjoy them.
People who make you feel like you're worth something will come and go. It's what people do. Their indecisive. They're temperamental. You are too in someways but we don't see it ourselves. We are not inconsistent when it comes to our own being. You will always be there for yourself. While it is indeed possible to break your own heart, you are also the only one with the power to mend it again.
Love yourself and love others. If you suffer because of others, love them even more. Be bigger than them. Be better. Don't just aspire, inspire too. Inspire yourself and you'll begin to inspire others. True beauty comes from confidence, which comes from liking who you actually are.
Make that change today. "Nobody can make you feel inferior without your consent".
You're a soldier in the battle against your hauntings, so fight.
Monday, November 3, 2014
Numb
Sometimes bad hours become bad days, sometimes the light doesn't shine in the morning, sometimes when I wake up from naps, I wish I didn't at all. Nap, I mean. Sometimes I'm... not ready to face the world. Don't have the right clothes. Can't apply the right make up. Struggle to tie my shoe laces. Open the wardrobe. Pick the mask for the day. The smiley one will do... will do.
Will anyone ever know? Should they ever know? Thousands of faces, false faces, faces hidden behind the masks of friends. Devils hidden underneath the ambiance of an obedient angel, grabbing me, pulling my hair, kissing my neck... no...
Tell me, when do the devils stop? Is there such a thing as real angels? Do I give up hope now, or later? When will the devils carry me to the place they call Demise? Will the angels fight for me in my final hour or have I been estranged that much? I don't want to be far gone, but frankly I'm much too numb to know how close I am.
Sometimes it's just not even anything. Sometimes it's like you're drowning. Silence. You are silent. You do not want to give any... thing away. Make eye contact. Draw your eyes down. Eyes are the windows to the soul, don't let anybody see that soul. Beautiful soul. Damaged soul. Oh, what would they say if they knew about you?
Then Night comes and engulfs me. Like a tidal wave. I prefer the night sometimes. I like the night. The stars, the moon, the silence. The deadly silence of night. Foxes rumbling in the bushes, make my dog bark. I wish I was a fox. He's holding me close now. Asks a few questions about me, he cares? He shuffles, gets up, looks out the window, sees Night approaching us, runs back to bed, holds me closer, my saviour... my saviour.
It's numbness. It's knowing what people say, when they say it and why, but not answering those questions. The answers are the worst. Keeping quiet is hard. There's a lot they don't know. A lot I've seen and heard. A lot of She Doesn't Know That We Said That. They say what we don't know won't kill us. They have never said anything truer. Sometimes I wonder if you have to stop breathing to be dead. What if death is a state of mind, until it becomes a state of physicality?
Numb. Its a strange word I always felt. I'm not wanting to die, I don't wish for death, I just wish to feel the fullness I used to feel once upon a time. I remember when fairytales were real. I remember the Disney films. I remember my potential, my hopes, my aspirations, my wishes for Prince Charming. Oh! How my reputation has made such ambitions impossible. How people love to see another fall. We have not progressed from throwing fruit at other people, except now the things we throw do not rub off in a singular wash.
Everybody can stab at the egotistic bubble you formed to protect yourself from others. They can try.
People get close. You fall for them. So fast. So deep. You push them away. They won't want you one day, then what? Pang in your heart. Breathe. Brea...the. It's you. You get over it, right? You're strong enough, right? I mean, you've done it several times before, right? The German for heartbroken... Todunglücklich. Deadly unhappy.
How many will leave before someone stays? Who won't get bored of the silence? I question, if anyone would ever squeeze the past out of me, sit me down with a coffee and talk about it. I cannot run away from the demons that chase me from a broken and battered past, and the demons of a present day are parallel to me now. I'm waiting for an angel. A saviour. Sometimes people need saving from themselves, and sometimes those who are numb do not realise how much they are hurting themselves through their own actions.
One of the reasons why sex is fun, is because you cannot be numb during sex, but you can be numb to thoughts. You feel physically and the only thing that attacks your mind is a physical euphoria. No nasty thoughts.
If people only thought before they opened their mouths. If only they considered the several year long consequence of their actions. If only they reminisced before they clicked that button. If only they remembered you're real. Thank yourself for that egotistic bubble, you're going to need it now.
Will anyone ever know? Should they ever know? Thousands of faces, false faces, faces hidden behind the masks of friends. Devils hidden underneath the ambiance of an obedient angel, grabbing me, pulling my hair, kissing my neck... no...
Tell me, when do the devils stop? Is there such a thing as real angels? Do I give up hope now, or later? When will the devils carry me to the place they call Demise? Will the angels fight for me in my final hour or have I been estranged that much? I don't want to be far gone, but frankly I'm much too numb to know how close I am.
Sometimes it's just not even anything. Sometimes it's like you're drowning. Silence. You are silent. You do not want to give any... thing away. Make eye contact. Draw your eyes down. Eyes are the windows to the soul, don't let anybody see that soul. Beautiful soul. Damaged soul. Oh, what would they say if they knew about you?
Then Night comes and engulfs me. Like a tidal wave. I prefer the night sometimes. I like the night. The stars, the moon, the silence. The deadly silence of night. Foxes rumbling in the bushes, make my dog bark. I wish I was a fox. He's holding me close now. Asks a few questions about me, he cares? He shuffles, gets up, looks out the window, sees Night approaching us, runs back to bed, holds me closer, my saviour... my saviour.
It's numbness. It's knowing what people say, when they say it and why, but not answering those questions. The answers are the worst. Keeping quiet is hard. There's a lot they don't know. A lot I've seen and heard. A lot of She Doesn't Know That We Said That. They say what we don't know won't kill us. They have never said anything truer. Sometimes I wonder if you have to stop breathing to be dead. What if death is a state of mind, until it becomes a state of physicality?
Numb. Its a strange word I always felt. I'm not wanting to die, I don't wish for death, I just wish to feel the fullness I used to feel once upon a time. I remember when fairytales were real. I remember the Disney films. I remember my potential, my hopes, my aspirations, my wishes for Prince Charming. Oh! How my reputation has made such ambitions impossible. How people love to see another fall. We have not progressed from throwing fruit at other people, except now the things we throw do not rub off in a singular wash.
Everybody can stab at the egotistic bubble you formed to protect yourself from others. They can try.
People get close. You fall for them. So fast. So deep. You push them away. They won't want you one day, then what? Pang in your heart. Breathe. Brea...the. It's you. You get over it, right? You're strong enough, right? I mean, you've done it several times before, right? The German for heartbroken... Todunglücklich. Deadly unhappy.
How many will leave before someone stays? Who won't get bored of the silence? I question, if anyone would ever squeeze the past out of me, sit me down with a coffee and talk about it. I cannot run away from the demons that chase me from a broken and battered past, and the demons of a present day are parallel to me now. I'm waiting for an angel. A saviour. Sometimes people need saving from themselves, and sometimes those who are numb do not realise how much they are hurting themselves through their own actions.
One of the reasons why sex is fun, is because you cannot be numb during sex, but you can be numb to thoughts. You feel physically and the only thing that attacks your mind is a physical euphoria. No nasty thoughts.
If people only thought before they opened their mouths. If only they considered the several year long consequence of their actions. If only they reminisced before they clicked that button. If only they remembered you're real. Thank yourself for that egotistic bubble, you're going to need it now.
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