1989

i don’t think i was in love with you or anything like that.

i was just amazed by our existences collision despite the very little probability they had to do so. i just really enjoy your presence, your voice and your scent.

i just smiled sillily when the thought of you popped in my and cried sincerely when you walked away. i just found it easier to breathe, to live when you were around but suddenly felt the urge ti never wake up to another day when you left.

i repeat, i don’t think i was in love with you or anything. i’m a very good liar, so good i convinced myself whatever feelings i had for you were not to be called “love”.

however, just like all good liars do, i knew the exact truth i was trying to cover up.

the trap we will inevitably fall into countless times throughout our lives, is one where we cage ourselves in the belief that a single season that occurs is where we will remain. the idea of being isolated in an endless winter is one that will ultimately break us apart.

allow the course of nature to seep through and make way for the changes to take place.
the showers will put out the flames you have danced in. your faults will be sought but never found, as they would have already blown away with the winds of a new beginning that awaits you. the feeling is momentary and the world is everchaging. nothing will ever just remain if you don’t allow it to. brace yourself for the momentary pain and the inescapable downfall, but believe in the lasting effects of prosperous victory.

you’re stronger than you think.
you’ll be okay. i promise.

one day, he’s going to know. he’ll know your birthday, your middle name, where you were born, your star sign, and your parents names. he’ll know how old you were when you learnt to ride a bike, how your grandparents passed away, how many pets you had, and how much you hated going to school.

he’ll know your eye colour, your scars, your freckles, your laugh lines and your birth marks. he’ll know your favourite book, movie, candy, food, pair of shoes, colour, and song. he’s going to know why you’re awake at 5am most nights, why you picked up the razor and how you managed to put it down before things went too far. he’s going to know your phobias, your dreams, your fears, your wishes, and your worries. he’s going to know about your first heartbreak, your dream wedding, and your problems with your parents. he’ll know your strengths, weaknesses, laziness, energy, and your mixed emotions.

he’s going to know about your love for mayonnaise, your dream of being famous when you were five, your need to quote any film you know all the way through, and your fear of growing older. he’ll know your bad habits, your stroppy pout, your facial expressions, and your laugh like it’s his favourite song. the way you chew, drink, walk, sleep, fidget and kiss. he’s going to know that you’ve already picked out wedding flowers, baby names, tiles for the bathroom, bridesmaid dresses, and the colour of your bedroom walls.

he’s going to know, get annoyed at and then accept that you leave clothes everywhere, take twenty minutes to order a starrbucks, have to organise your dvd’s alphabetically, and check your horoscope… just incase. he’ll know your mcd’s order, how many scoops of ice cream you want, and that you need your sandwiches cut into triangles. he’s going to know how you feel without you telling him, that you need a wee from a look on your face, and that you’re crying without shedding tears.

he’s going to know all of it. everything. you, from top to bottom and inside out. from learning, from sharing, from listening, from watching. he’s going to know every single thing there is to know, and you know what else?

he is still going to love you.

i want to forget everything you told me. i want to wash away how uncertain you made me. how scared i was of losing you. how i lost you anyway. i don’t want to know how your hands feel or what makes you smile. i don’t want to see you in photos, familiar like a dream i had once or a book i never finished. i don’t want to speak about you in snippets or think about how i behaved. or know that i still think about it. or know that you’re not just a lamp or a blade of grass, indistinguishable from the rest.

i promise you learn more from the intense lows than the highs, in your life. the lows will teach you so much. hitting rock bottom is where your knowledge of strength lies. you will learn so much about yourself when there isn’t anyone but yourself to fight your battles. we all have our own experiences or thoughts on what hitting rock bottom is, individually. it’s how we choose to overcome it that distinguishes us.

to my younger self:

i know you are excited to grow up,
but please, stay young
for as long as you can.
because quicker than you can imagine,
your life will come crashing down,
and you will never rebuild your wall.
dont believe everything you see,
and dont trust everyone
that comes into your life.
because they will all leave eventually.
they always do.
and i know that you think
you know what pain is now,
but you have not felt the pain
that is coming your way.
and it will come in a storm,
a storm that will wreak havoc upon you
for the next chaotic years
before you finally collapse.
so love everything you have now.
love the magnificent flowers
that grow upon every bush,
and love the bees as they buzz
and harmlessly collect their nectar.
love the different coloured bricks
on each building as they grow older,
and love the way the clouds change colour
over the lake as the sun passes through them.
please, love your home while it still is just that.
because soon, it will be nothing more
than a memory behind your glassy eyes
and your weathering wall you have built.
to my younger self, please;
please love while you still know how.

i’m dancing in the rain, feeling free on the water. i’m crying, wishing to be loved, to feel noticed, i’m laughing, happy with these people, for a short moment happy with myself. i’m hating myself, i’m laughing at my stupidity. i’m being a bitch sometimes, because i can, to the people i don’t like. i’m fire, i’m water, i’m earth, i’m the sky. i’m passionate about the things i like, people i love. i’m rough and sometimes soothing, sometimes helping and sometimes hurting. i’m calm, i’m screaming. i’m free, i’m cold, i’m warm, i’m me. and i try not to feel ashamed at being me. i’m kind, i’m beautiful, i’m pretty, i’m loving, i’m hurting, i’m life, i’m human.

now let’s change this, shall we?

you’re dancing in the rain, feeling free on the water. you’re crying, wishing to be loved, to feel noticed, you’re laughing, happy with these people, for a short moment happy with yourself. you’re hating yourself , you’re laughing at your stupidity. you’re being a bitch sometimes, because you can, to the people you don’t like. you’re fire, you’re water, you’re earth, you’re the sky. you’re passionate about the things you like, people you love. you’re rough and sometimes soothing, sometimes helping and sometimes hurting. you’re calm, you’re screaming. you’re free, you’re cold, you’re warm, you’re me. and i try not to feel ashamed at being you. you’re kind, you’re beautiful, you’re pretty, you’re loving, you’re hurting, you’re life, you’re human.

now let’s take that last bit, and change it again.

we’re kind, we’re beautiful, we’re pretty, we’re loving, we’re hurting, we’re life, we’re human.

and we should proud of ourselves. no matter our gender, sexuality, race, skin color. we’re the same. we have the same feelings. yes, we’re individuals, and in some way different from each other, but we’re equal. remember that.

empty words fill blank pages,
with nothing but distant wishes;

i am not a positive person-
i fail to remember if life made me into a pessimist.
or if i was always like this.

the missing of hope has faded;
and i’ve become strangely familiar
with this feeling of uncertainty.

it’s alright;
i will be alright.
it’s alright because i will be alright.

if you say something enough times, it’ll become real, right?

most of the time i fail to believe in my own words.

i don’t consider them to be true anymore.

just empty wishes.

for some feeling of familiarity
to be able to remember my days
to feel more than this (anything, at all)

i can’t make sense of this.
you probably can’t either.

can anyone figure out their own insanity, really?

it’s funny, having a crush on someone. to everyone else this person is just one more human being, nothing special. they can sit there and talk to this person, smile, laugh and walk away, and they won’t even remember it. But when you hear, see or maybe - if you are lucky - feel this person’s quick meaningless touch of your skin, you save every second of it in your memory to replay it over and over in your head when you’re laying in your bed sleepless; to imagine various situations that you two could happen to be in; to find sense in something that was completely accidental.

real talk; humanity.

i just want to clear out the fact that: emotion is not race.

the darkness you feel inside isn’t because you’re just black or white or brown, yellow, blue, and so on. it is because you, personally, are not in the right state of mind, as a human being, to be able to function as normally in a world of human beings.

no you’re not crazy, you’re not ‘mental’. you just need to readjust your way of life in a way that you can function around what you’re feeling, as you work on it day by day. you know, as a person should.

you’re most definitely not going to feel less because your skin is a darker shade and you’re not going to feel more because it’s lighter either. we all feel things because we are all humans.

race shouldn’t even come into question when dealing with mental health. yet, blatantly it does. in the places you’d least except it. not many people notice it but i do. and i’m bored of everything in the world today being about race. and it shows that the world as a whole, has a long way to accepting ourselves as simply being people.

human beings.

it all starts in the mind of those who are ignorant and if that ain’t sorted out, how are we as people supposed to move forward in a world wide society if we can barely get past “but your skin looks like this so...”

how about we try. “hi you’re human. that’s understandable. we all feel/do/make things this way because...” of course, unless actions are crimes. then behavior can’t be excused.

and with all of that information in mind. a small change goes a long ass way.

i don’t need receipts to justify what’s going on in the world.