I could scream but the most important people would not hear a sound. And everyone else would look away in embarrassment. I am not myself anymore. Someone stole the essence of me. Sucked it right out of my thoughts. I am not feeling myself.
What a title, right? Well it is true. I am not very skilled at taking advice I didn’t ask for. Today I was told that my poetry could be better if I was more ambitious. Sad truth is, I am not. And the last poem I shared turned out very well. In my opinion. I don’t aim higher and I don’t try to become better. I just write. I disregard style and form and I just write. I don’t question what I write either. I just do. And sometimes it’s mediocre and other times it is brilliant. It is always filled with emotions (my emotions) and often, it is quite impulsive too. The poems I write might not always be about myself, but the feelings are still real. Poetry is something I write for myself. There are words and fantasies and stories that want to get out and this is my momentary outlet. Of course, I like it a lot when readers can relate. When I wrote something that I like a lot (like the last poem I shared here), praise means even more to me. And I am someone who needs that praise. I need to feel appreciated. There is no bigger downer for me than being invisible, not seen. It shouldn’t, but that messes with my head. I have a fragile mind, what can I say?!
I never thought that my poetry is bad, but right now I do. No, I am not ambitious and I am not trying to actively improve my writing by using complicated words. I am a simple person. And I like simple words because they can have as much or more impact than the ones I have to look up in a dictionary. My writing was called bipolar, which made me chuckle. It was referring to the fact that I improved a lot and apparently, I often regress too.
I am in a state where I am debating to just stop. If I am not good enough and if I am not aiming higher, why should I keep using up space? What good does it do? There are tons of people out there writing better words than me… None of them uses my voice. None of them feels my emotions. None of them deserves my space and my place. And yet… And yet… Maybe I overstayed my welcome and it’s time to let go?
It sucks to suddenly doubt something you never doubted. But this got me at the wrong moment. Could I even exist if I said “fuck it, I am logging off”? Would I exist if no one knows that I do?
All these pieces, the writing, the doubting… These are pieces my real life friends don’t see too often. Some know that I wrote, but most just belittle it. None of my friends ever asked to read something’s I wrote and I am not someone who asks others to read… And maybe they wouldn’t understand anyway. On the other hand, this is a huge part of who I became and I think it’s quite sad that they aren’t trying to be a part of that…
Too many thoughts…
Under lilac trees
No orange hues
Illuminating the streets.
Leading the ways
Pictures that no one will see
Songs that will never be heard
Nonsense makes sense
And she loses direction in life’s labyrinth.
In plain sight
In the stillness of the night.
Walking under shadows
Past willow trees
Found on her knees.
Iridescent internal life
Completed by imperfections
Darkness becomes light
It has always been you.
The abyss is beguiling me
“Jump” it says
“Join me” it whispers.
And I can’t fight it anymore
One step closer to the ledge.
Son: “What are those stripes on your arm?”
Son: “That many?”
No further questions were asked. #selfharm
— Cathy (@micqu1) May 14, 2017
Today, my son asked about the stripes on my arm. I told him that they are scars. My heart began pounding… I am not ready to have that conversation. Not when I am still dealing with it.
I am not ashamed. I am just not sure how to explain it without sounding pathetic and at the same time, teaching him that it is a harmful way to deal with pain and frustration… The above is an exact transcript of what was said.
(On this picture, you can only see the bigger scars, there are faint ones you can almost only see when you really look for them… apparently, he did. Also, I am not sure why the scars are this swollen today)
Left our hearts bleeding
Ends came too soon
And I keep wondering if I bruised your
Soul more than I will ever know.
Everything happened too fast.
Did we play a game and lost
Or did we fall and failed to be caught?
Not you me? Not me you?
Talk to me!
Dreams were shattered
Ice cold water drenched us from within
Seldom did I feel this protective and worried
And I want you to be here
Please, don’t disappear.
Pounding hope, inside
Eyes filled with fear.
And I wish I could
Reach out to make you see they way I see.
Wrapped in a blanket of tears
It came without warning
And makes no sense at all.
The guitar is bleeding
And the ink is drowning in a well
So many untold secrets.
Where have all the voices gone?
Maybe they found the noose?
Because nothing was ever enough.
Woven memories that we don’t remember
What are we looking for?
Decaying thoughts with no meaning.
Do we want more?
We want less
Of everything. Of us.
Our footsteps are blown in the wind
Dust and forgotten souls
We are dragged forward to meet our final day.
The wings of our souls are spread
Reaching but never quite touching the other within
Endless tries to connect.
Reasons ceased to exist a long time ago
Hollow shells wandering hand in hand
Turn into lightening in the sand.
not only our souls and bodies are dancing… our minds are too
My mood is a weird one. I don’t trust it. I feel serene. Guided by the light. I am satisfied with me and who I am. I am standing behind my words and believe what I say. My own wisdom surprises me and makes me uncomfortable too.
I am wondering… when I am like this – when I am the light, I wonder if I deserve to feel it. I also wonder if I am more attuned to other people’s moods then. I am always quite aware of the people around me and of their moods but maybe I am just projecting. Who knows? But yes, when I feel the way I do now, right this moment, I wonder about these things. It isn’t happiness I am feeling. But a calm. A calm before a storm? I don’t hope so… but as it is, I cannot control my emotions and I lose every reason and every rationality when they are involved.
And I also wonder if I stole someone else’s light. Did I suck it out of someone who is falling into the dark now?
I know that I am weird. But I also know that I have a huge list of qualities. It’s sad when people reduce me to one thing when I am so much more. In a way, I am complicated, but since I am very understanding and most times quite easy-going and relaxed, I am easy to live with too. I have a great sense of humour and I am interested in many things – from music (duh!) and books to politics and randomness. I am opinionated and intelligent too and as you can see, I am very modest too, lol. I am talented in many domains, I am spiritual and rational at the same time and did I mention humour? I like to laugh about myself.
Sometimes I think that we should take more time to set up a real connection with the people in our lives. Sometimes, we should dare to drop every mask and be who we are without holding back. No matter how intense or dull we think we are. After all, as long as we don’t show who we are, we cannot expect that anyone will understand us and wants to get to know us better. And maybe everything we dislike in ourselves, they’ll adore? Who knows?
I am tired of these masks – and yes, I wear them too. With these people I show more of that, with those people, I show more of this. And honestly, I am tired of it. Sometimes I pretended, in the past, to be dumber than I really am just to make the other feel better. And it shouldn’t be that way. It really shouldn’t.
I don’t want to hide who I am and who I love. I don’t want to repeat myself and my promises again and again because the other is even more unsure of themselves than I am of me.
There are times in my life when I am very submissive… Right now is not such a time. I am strong and I have the scars to show for it. I am a survivor and I can (and will) take charge of my life and the situations that need to be taken care of.
In a couple of weeks (maybe even days) I will be fragile again. I will break apart at my seams because the emotions and feelings are agonising, but that is not now. Don’t let it be now, please. I want to keep this calm feeling and put it in a box that I will lock. I will hide the box in my soul and when the world around me is raging I will open the lid and let some of the calmness cover me from within…
There sat a man on the stairs. His hair was hidden underneath a black hoodie, and his pale hands clutched a mobile phone. His jeans-clad legs were bent, and his knees were hugged by his arms. His head rested on his knees. He looked like a tired, sad man. His eyes were at once empty and overflowing with a raging storm. Maybe he was homeless. No one could tell for sure. Appearances can be deceiving in this day and age.
A busker stood next to a pillar. His fingers picked at the strings of his worn guitar, and his voice pronounced every word he sang with as many emotions as he could muster that day. His guitar case lay in front of him; opened wide, so that passersby would be tempted to toss in some of the loose change they kept in their pockets. So far not many coins were spread out on the black velvet. The romance of busking in the underground and being discovered accidentally by someone influential was wearing off. Sometimes he wished he hadn’t quit his day job because of a fluke. He had, though, and there was no turning back. And now, he played for people who hurried past him without seeing him and homeless drunks like the one on the stairs across from him.
I stood at the busker’s left and observed both men. Both had a similar aura. Tired of their situations. Not of their lives, like me. I felt a momentary connection with these strangers while I projected my own struggles on them. The man on the stairs looked lost in thoughts and mesmerised by the busker singing and interpreting songs we knew from the radio. And rightly so. He sang a beautiful version of Mad World. I hummed along.
The man on the stairs moved his lips in time with the lyrics too. Three strangers who had no connection whatsoever connected over a song. It was magic. I smiled at myself. It was a strange and foreign sensation for me. During this brief moment of contentment, the man on the stairs looked into my eyes. He nodded ever so slightly and, to me, it seemed as if his eyes were less tired then. A glimmer of hope was shining through his eyes and enveloped my own hopeless self.
The train arrived and the spell that had surrounded us dissipated and vanished with the throng of people invading this space that had been so magical mere seconds ago. The stranger was swallowed by the masses, and when the rushing brook of busy people had turned into a trickle, he was gone, and the busker was packing his guitar away. I turned to leave too. Without direction, without purpose. I had missed the train.
Rivulets of emotions
Growing into a rushing brook
Year in and year out I’m going through the motions
Hiding inside every rainbow’s nook.
As the earth unfolds its verdure
The sun turns into a comforting embrace
The birds singing their songs without allure
And the trees are standing tall in all their grace.
I feel my spirits awaken
And letting go of winter’s thoughts
My foolishness forsaken
As I accept my lovable flaws.
The wind and the weather;
They cannot bring you back
My heart floats like a feather
Mending my soul’s crack.
The spring’s healing powers
Are filling my being
As I stop to smell the flowers
Finally feeling life’s new meaning.
I can breathe without you by my side
And push the clouds off my mind
I don’t need the rainbow to hide
Because spring finds me refined.
There is an ocean between us
Filled with our tears
Sadness and regrets
All washed up on the shore.
The distance is growing into a road
Paved with silence
Thoughts and lost passion
Driving us farther away from home.
The bags on our shoulders are heavy
Packed with longing
Memories and grief
Bringing us down on our knees.
The waves are swallowing what is left of us
Drinking it in
Forgetting and forgiving
Until our path brings us together again.
The wind blows away our differences
Far far away
Higher and higher
Before they will vanish into nothing.
The ocean turns into a puddle
Obstacles easy to overcome
Past and future
And a friendship will bloom.
The moon is blinding me
Hiding our sin
I am not sure if I am okay
If I could just see…
If I kiss the sweat off your skin
Could our love see another day?
If we drowned in the sea
Or let the sun wear us thin
What if the love let us sway?
How wrong could that be?
Would we believe the voices within?
And would we take a chance to let our love stay?
How many days until we are free?
How many lost battles until we win?
There has to be a way.
Sometimes I wish I could just give up control. In everything. Let someone else take the decisions and just follow blindly. How scary and freeing could that be? I mean, just the idea of it… It definitely would keep me from doubting myself all the time. It would keep me from over-thinking. And I would just do. Just be. With a blank mind. It’s quite appealing.
Take it… Take everything I have to offer and maybe even more.
It is scary to be at the mercy of someone else, I admit it. But if you trust them? In my naive mind, it could be the most liberating thing.
Huh… And these were my early Saturday morning thoughts.
You have not always been a stranger in my life. You used to be a part of it. Of me. You could still be a part of it (of me) if you wanted to be. My arms are still open. As it is, you became a stranger. When we pass each other on an open road, we lower our heads and wish we could turn back time, but there are no visible signs that we were once lovers. Sinners. Nobody knows our secret.
You’ve been gone for six months now. Things happened, life moved on and I let go of you and of the feelings I felt for you. But once in a while, like this weekend, the feelings come back. And I wonder. Do you ever wonder? What could have been? What would have been? Do you sometimes wish to not lower your head when our paths cross but to acknowledge what we had and who we were? I guess you don’t. I guess these are silly thoughts of a woman who cannot let go. I should though. And I know it. But as much as I hated what we were, I loved it too. And I would do it all again. In a heartbeat and without regrets. A year is a long time. I changed during the year we spent together. I became a woman who was able to see her qualities. I accepted myself for who I was. Because you told me how beautiful I am and you told me how beautiful my mind is. With you gone, that affirmation is gone too. And I am invisible to my own eyes again. I know, it shouldn’t be this way, but it is. It is my truth. If only I could reach you again. If only I could touch you again. But it will not happen. And I will keep wondering if your thoughts drift to me before you fall asleep, and if you compose messages for me that you never send.
There are no words that are meaningful enough to tell you how much you mean to me and how much you meant to me. And while I write these words, I keep thinking that I am not in love. I am not in love. I am just in need. I am in need of the person who seemed to be a soul mate to me. I miss the understanding and the way that nothing was complicated between us, unless we let the world complicate it. I miss your gentle voice in my ear and the way you said my name. The voice is fading. I should have kept a record of it. But I didn’t. I don’t have anything physical that reminds me of our time. No evidence at all. Just the memories in my head. And I am afraid that they will change from what really was into what I wished it would have been.
The door is still wide open. The hole you left gaping wide is waiting for your presence to fill it again. And I am afraid that the hole will get bigger and bigger until I vanish inside of it. And I will be gone. It was easy to cope with your loss, at first. I was strong and too many things were changing in my life, I didn’t have the time to let my emotions rule me. But now that I fell and walked back into the dark, I am reminded of how much you are missed. I shouldn’t miss you. I shouldn’t write to you when I am not well. I should show you how well I am and how much success I have now. Fuck it. You saw me at my best and at my worst and you handled it well. Or I like to pretend that you did. I mean, there are reasons why you left when you did. I am sure that I drove you away. I sucked the light out of you and was too demanding. The novelty of me had worn off too. And, you couldn’t deal with the fact that I understood. I saw you for who you were and my arms and my heart were still open for you. I wasn’t scared or appalled. No, I was there. And I will always be there for you. Whenever you choose to come back, I will be there.
Ah dear stranger. Wouldn’t it be nice to not be strangers anymore? Wouldn’t it be nice to be lovers again? Two lovers in the morning sun. Overwhelmed with lust. And connecting on every possible level. The romantic in me tries to resurface. The realist wants me to say goodbye with this letter.
One last goodbye. But the memories… They are too meaningful to forget. Too important to hide in a closet. They are everything.
We will meet again, Sweetie. Ja? Say my name and I will be yours again.
I moan a lot about this and about that, mostly about me and the sadness and emptiness inside of me. Maybe my view of things is wrong though. Because what if I am not empty but overflowing? And I don’t mean overwhelmed.
I spend a lot of time pulling me down and finding reasons to not like me. What if there are valid reasons to like me, though? What if my quirks are adorable and not annoying?
I live with that notion of being a bother and of stealing people’s time. What if they give it willingly? Why is that such a strange concept for me?
If I could love me, if I could like the person I am, these questions would be easily answered. But for me, they are not. I can not go easy on myself. I cannot forgive myself any shortcomings. And I have no idea why.
Tonight, I spent a great evening with work colleagues. It was the first for me. Ever. We ate and drank and laughed and had an amazing time. And I was not sitting just there in a corner fiddling with my glass… No, I fit right in. And it felt nice to be a part of this amazing team of people. Because that’s what they-we are; an extraordinary team of colleagues. I love going to work with these people. And evenings like tonight are very important. They are for me. They mean more than they should, but they raise my self-esteem just the slightest bit.
Still… It doesn’t change that I am in a bad emotional place. I can’t say why or what… I know why and what, but I can’t find words to describe it. It is just very hard to be and to exist right now. It never felt like this before. And I often have my down-moments. Never like this. It’s quite bad and I don’t have anyone to talk to. I tried to talk to my best friend, but she didn’t listen. She made everything I said about her and I gave up trying to talk.I let her lead the conversation and I let her speak and I gave advice and was interested. But when I was alone again, I felt worse than before because of it.
I am going to try to sleep right now. I wonder what I can do to pull myself out of the dark. This has been going on for too long.
I’ll think about it tomorrow.
PS: The ending of this post suck… Sorry.
Stardust love .
An eternity that lasted hours
Firefighters came in too soon
We follow the monsoon
Through a mind’s typhoon.
Pale and unseen
Crumbled and bruised
So many ways
To be de-creased, uncreased.
But no one is there
To pull at the edges
Of your sheet.
Too many lit fires 🔥
Too many coffee stains
Not a blank page anymore
There is room left
To write a new story
Let’s get high and high
Let the wave swallow us
Breathe me away
Drink what’s left of me
And when I’m resurrected
Let’s do it again.
Let’s get high and high
Let the fantasy become reality
Spit me out
Don’t touch my skin
And when I am wilted away
Let’s do it again.
Let’s get high and
I feel lost
Forgotten in the dust
Buried underneath the ashes of the past.
Remind me of my wings
I will rise.
Empty tears fill a bottomless jar
I can hear the silence in the air
I can feel my soul disappear.
Hands cover my face.
Hidden in the unknown.
Too many feelings were left unfelt
I turn into a shadow of myself after I melt…
I wrote some sort of memoir about my childhood…