Catherine Micqu

Dear mind…

Dear mind,

Be kind today. These last days were a mix of overflowing emotions that went sky high or drowned me in the deepest darkest abyss. I need to keep up appearances. I need to seem strong. Please, dear mind, let me get through work without suppressing tears. I cannot deal with that again.

And why are you such a liar anyway? And why do you want me to believe all these intense things?

I need to find my way home, a way into myself, but I can’t see the way, and there are no lights. The ones that were there are not bright anymore. Flickering far away. Telling me that they trust and love, and then they go out, and I can’t find a way.

Please, dear mind, be kind. Stop implying that they are better off without me or that they are better off alone.

Push, pull. Oh, my heart, oh my mind. Too much inner turmoil.

sing me to sleep (flash fiction)

I woke up and looked around myself. I had that dream again. The dream in which I saw my mother get on the bus and leave me behind. Except, it wasn’t a dream; it was a memory that haunted me.
I was a grown-up, doing what grown-ups do. I worked forty hours every week – sometimes more. I met friends, went for drinks or dinner with them. Occasionally, I fell in love. More often, I craved the physical connection. A physical connection was easy to find, love – not so much.
Someone was stirring next to me, and I couldn’t remember his name. I should have felt uncomfortable, but I didn’t. Waking up next to someone I didn’t know was not uncommon for me. I would not rely on him to distract me from my childhood memories. I didn’t trust him. He didn’t feel like protection or safety; the nameless man next to me was only another warm body to make me forget the longing and the emptiness that spread through my body like cancer. The older I got, the more cells were infected. “Go back to sleep, honey,” his gravelly voice mumbled. I snorted. It were the exact same words my mother had said before the doors of the bus closed behind her. Or was it my imagination playing tricks on me?
I pushed the duvet off my body and let my feet connect with the hardwood floor. I needed something real, something that earthed me. Goosebumps rose on my naked skin. I couldn’t say if it was the lingering memory of the reoccurring dream, or if it was the chill from the starry night sneaking in through the opened window. I decided that it didn’t matter. There were so many little thoughts every day, and most of them didn’t matter. Once in a while, I felt as if I didn’t matter either. My weekdays were filled with responsibilities, work, and duties. There was no room for anything else. My weekends were wasted with alcohol and casual affairs. I didn’t allow my mind to come to terms with old wounds. But the mind and the soul knew that I needed to take better care of myself; hence the dreams.
I was afraid to be abandoned and to be left behind. It was easier to keep everyone at arm’s length. It was more comfortable to pretend that I was happy. In truth, I had no idea what happiness felt like. And maybe my expectations were too high? All my life, I had been searching for love, for a person who made me feel safe. Perhaps I was just blind?
I took my phone from the nightstand, and the illuminated display showed the loneliness of my life. A couple of shallow notification that I wasn’t interested in; I pushed them away.
I padded down to the bathroom to relieve my bladder and splash some water in my face, then I took my robe from the hook attached at the door and pulled it around me. I didn’t want to go back to the stranger in my bed, but I didn’t want to wake him up and throw him out in the middle of the night either. In the living room, I sat down in my favourite chair next to the window. I could see the sparkling dots on the dark firmament.
“Are you there?” I sent a message to the person who meant more than most to me. I didn’t expect a response; I just wanted to make sure that he would think of me when he woke up. I was about to put the phone down when it vibratedbin my hand. My heart went like mad, but I accepted the call anyway.
“Why are you still up? Bad dream?” He didn’t waste any time; he knew me too well. I nodded my head and added an affirmative sound.
“Are you alone?” I hated that my reply was negative, but I answered truthfully nonetheless.
“Is he asleep?”
“Yes. I am in the living room watching the stars.” I almost whispered.
“Okay.” I heard some rustling as if he was getting out of bed, footsteps followed, and then some more rustling. “I will put you on speakerphone. Just so that you know if the sound is different.” And then I heard the first chords of a song I wasn’t familiar with. Like a soothing blanket, it washed over me. There were no words, just music played; and it was for my ears only. The sounds alleviated some of the chills from my body, and I grabbed a blanket from the couch to wrap myself in it. I nestled deep in the blanket and yawned. I was tired; it surprised me how much so. I yawned noisily again.
“Sleep tight, baby girl. I will always be there for you.” I smiled. Maybe I had found someone safe, but the thought became frayed as the music faded, and I drifted off to a dreamless sleep again. Maybe tomorrow, I would remember those words, or maybe they became a part of a distant memory too.

This…

It’s humbling to have comments like this waiting for me. I am simply writing from the heart, using simple vocabulary and few words.

❤💜❤💜❤💜

Song of the day (Sunday)

Billy Joel – Vienna

That song is stuck in my head for weeks now

Slow down you crazy child nanana nanana hey hey (…) when will you realise, Vienna waits for you

Just a part of the song is stuck, as you can see. When I heard “Vienna” in a Netflix show, I thought I heard Elton John. Maybe because I saw “Rocketman” just a few days earlier. Well, it turned out, the song was not from the Rocketman, but from the Pianoman. Man man man…

For the life of me, I can’t remember the show. My guess would be “The Politician,” but I can’t be sure.

Enjoy your Sunday

Thank you for seeing me.

PS: Somehow, it is important for me to be seen these last days. I need connection. I don’t want to fade from your memory. I don’t want to be forgotten. There you have it – one of my biggest fears: being forgettable and not good enough.

Cathy

PPS: oops… There was the wrong song in the first upload of this post, no one noticed, right?!

The first letter to Mr. Handsome

This is the first letter I am sending to you. Hopefully, it will not be the last bubbly and rambling letter that is coming your way.
I was floating on a cloud of me and you for most of the day. After Stranger and the hurt he caused, I thought my heart was cold and empty, barricaded. Somehow, you found a way under my skin. From there, you traveled into my soul, until you breached the walls around my heart.
And now we are here. Both bruised and hurt. So much alike that I wonder why I can’t love myself as much as I love you. Because that is what I do. It came unexpected, and I admit, I was utterly unprepared.
At first, I tried to be distant; then, I tried to appear sophisticated. Do you have any idea how much strength that took? I realised it is easier just to be me. With all my flaws. And with all my qualities. It is hard for me to be positive and to trust in myself, but you make it seem so easy. We both have a lot to figure out for ourselves. We both have issues with self-esteem. We both have pasts. But please understand that I – well, I understand. I am trying to be as little intense and as gentle as I can be. But man, everything about you is intense. And that is why I love you. I love the way I can melt into your arms and stay there for almost ever. Nothing about you is boring. You are interesting and extraordinary. We have time to get to know each other; there is no rush. Dear handsome, I want to keep floating on our cloud a little more. You have already seen glimpses of my mood. You saw me crying – I saw you too. We were angry and ready to end what had not even begun; but you are worth putting up a fight. I want you in my life. For now. Because even if I said that I don’t want this to happen, you complete me. You make me whole.

Thank you, dear handsome.

Truly yours, Sweetie

Song of the Day (Saturday)

Anathema – the beginning and the end

I like this song, but I haven’t listened to it in a while. This morning it came on in my Spotify list, and it hit me in the right memories. Back in 2017, when I saw this band live for the fourth time (last time too…), this was the only song that had an impact on me. Granted, I was not in the best emotional place that night, but there was a lack of energy in the show that was not only coming from it being the last gig for the European leg of the tour.

A day later, I read a critic in the papers, what stuck was this part of a sentence: a small fat smoking guitarist

And although it is a mean and bullying thing to say, the author was not wrong. Poor lad, how crushing must it be to be judged like that on a daily basis?!

(I have a playlist of over 1000 songs that play on shuffle all the time. New songs I like are added to that playlist; it is updated almost daily, lol)

Either way, enjoy the song, and if you want a link to my playlist, just hit this link. It is public, after all. Cathy’s Spotify Playlist

Have a nice weekend.

Cathy

Not giving up today

Living in a house without windows nor doors

Darkness as my roof, I can’t see my thoughts.

I am too small to see the sun; how will I grow?

Lenard’s crack invites some light, truth in poetry.

And I mind my mind in my mind, only seekers can find

But I am living after closing my eyes too many times.

There is music flowing through my feels, a river of nothing

An explosion of everything pushes me to you.

A hand in my hair, a love that saves me from my madness

And I guess if I move my soul into your heart, I am able to break free.