The Toy

I was your shiny new toy

You looked at me everyday

Through a window

Longing to hold me

And to have me

To own me

So I could be yours, and so yours only

But I was reserved for another

At the time

Yet still you’d visit me

In front of the glass

Daily

And everyday you’d talk to me

Hopefully, persistently

Until finally I ventured

From behind my window

Cautiously

No longer reserved for another

But you’d wanted me before

And I had watched you also, for many years

So you waited

As I placed myself on a shelf

And again you found me

You told me why you deserved me

Why I should become part of your collection

And at last I was yours

Your shiny new toy

Part of your collection

You held me

You had me

You owned me

And I was yours to play with

And played with me you did

We played

And played

Until one day

You no longer wanted to play

And you found another toy

Because I wasn’t so shiny anymore

So you threw me aside

with the rest of your collection

Too old and scuffed

To go back on a shelf

Or back behind a window

So I was left on a pile

with other relics of desire

That had been forgotten

And I understood

I’d never be wanted by you again.

 

Loss.

We carry those we lose with us our entire lives. They stay with us like a chain hanging around our necks, shackled together with a feeling of responsibility and unanswered questions. They linger in our thoughts and they cripple us with their absence. But we can’t be held down by them forever. They’re with us, but instead of carrying them, we have to learn to let them walk beside us, otherwise, one day, they’ll only drag us down low enough to make us want to join them. 

“I think we should just, y’know, be friends. Is that cool?”

Inside:

What? Just be friends? Just be friends with you? After everything, everything we’ve fucking been through? You lead me on for months and now you just want to be friends. I told my fucking parents about you. My friends ask about you all the time. I think about you all the time. I’ve thought about what our future would be like together, where we’d get married, if we’d get married, what our kids would be like, where we would live. Sometimes I start conversations purposely so someone will mention you, just so I can talk about. I have pictures of you up on my wall. I have pictures of us up on my wall. Every time I think about seeing you my heart pounds so hard I think it might actually break out of my chest. When I’m somewhere I think you might be I look for you everywhere. I make up excuses to walk into where you work on the off chance you’re in. And when you are I buy things I don’t need. I wait up online for you to sign in. You’ve been to my house. When you touch me my knees get so weak I can barely support myself. After everything you’ve told me, everything you’ve said, everything you made me feel for you, everything you made me believe, now you just want to be friends? It’s really that easy for you, that after everything, you just want to be friends with me? No. no that is not fucking cool. It isn’t.

Outside:

Yeah, that’s cool.

Sunshine & Starlight

Like sunshine and starlight, she shone. And he swore that if he stared at her long enough, he would go blind. But he knew she could not see what he saw. He knew that when she gazed briefly into the bathroom mirror, or accidentally made eye contact with her own reflection while rushing past a particularly clean shop window, that all she saw was darkness. All she saw were the broken shards of herself, dancing around and cutting her up from the inside, mocking her. She saw a body filled with shadows, a caged monster trying to claw it’s way out of captivity, getting closer and closer to achieving its freedom every passing minute of the day. Where he saw Heaven, she saw Hell.

My Uncles Magic Sticks

My uncle has these magic sticks

He tells me they make clouds

I tell all my friends and whomever I meet

It makes me feel so proud

He just puts the sticks up to his lips

Breathes them in and then breathes out

And before my eyes up to the skies

White puffs start to fly about

He’s my hero, I tell him, he’s my hero!

As I give him a kiss

I’m just so lucky! For who else’s uncle

Can do something amazing like this?

 

My uncle has these magic sticks

He told me they make clouds

I told all my friends and whomever I met

It made me feel so proud

But my mum tells me that these magic sticks

Have made my uncle very sick

Then she tells me that making clouds

Is not something that should make me proud

She tells me its actually a silly thing

For somebody, anybody to do

And that my uncle tried to make so many

His lungs turned black, from blue.

 

My uncle had these magic sticks

And they made him very ill.

So now I tell,

All my friends,

And whomever I meet,

That making clouds can kill.

Silver & Gold

He looked at me and smiled, but I saw a touch of sadness hidden in his eyes.

“What’s the matter?” I asked him, and after a while he replied:

“Sometimes, I wish I could make you laugh as much as the others do.”

I thought about this for a minute, then I took his hand and I told him;

“All my life people have made me laugh. I laugh so easily, I pretty much laugh at everything. Laughing has never been hard for me. To me, laughter is like breathing. But do you know what I’ve never found easy? Love. Loving, and being loved, is something I’ve always found extremely hard to do. All my life it’s been a struggle for me to love. But you, you’ve changed that for me. Because of you, I love as easily as I laugh. So all those people in my life who have made me laugh, they have given me silver. But you, because you helped me love, you have given me gold.”

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Another World

I know

eventually

I need to let go of this world

I have spent almost 3 years

Of my life

Inside of

But I am afraid

As it is as much

A part of me

As the blood in my veins

And the flesh on my bones

And I am scared

Of the unknown

That awaits me

For this was once my only dream

And I used to believe

Dreams did not expire

But as the clock ticks

And time quickens

I realise

I was a fool

So now I must decide

Whether to move on

From this small

Yet significant

Of my life

Or to let go

Completely

Of this world

Of myself

Of everything

And avoid moving on

Ever again.

Red Flag.

I swam among a sea of red
But I was blind to the danger
And hope kept me floating
Towards an island
I’d never reach.
I was diminished by your ocean
But foolishly I swam
Hoping I would find you
But you were so high above me
In my mind
Looking the other way
And couldn’t see me trying
Or did not want to.
So eventually I sank
The red pulling me down
Barely able to breathe
Suffocated by your shadow
And deceived by my own delusion.

 

 

A Common Misconception

I love Beauty & The Beast. I love everything about it. And not just the twinkle-eyed, magical musical Disney version either, albeit truth be told it may have started with it. I love the gritty, original French tale, I love Carol Ann Duffy’s amusing  “Mrs. Beast” written from the POV of Beauty herself. I even really enjoyed the fairly recent Beastly, despite the questionable cast choices.

The thing is, people always assume I love Beauty & The Beast so much because I relate so strongly with Belle’s need for adventure and something different from life. With her sense of outcast and not quite fitting in with the people around her, which don’t get me wrong, I do. But originally I fell in love with the tale of Beauty & the Beast due to the Beast himself. This ugly person, both inside and out, whom felt that nobody could ever or would ever love him. Because who could ever love a Beast? Truth be told, that’s how I’ve felt pretty much my entire life.

Fight or Flight

I never used to fight for anything. I used to have fights, a lot of them, but I never fought to hold on. I never fought for people who didn’t want to bother with me anymore, who didn’t think I was worth the effort of keeping me in their lives. I’d let them walk, and I wouldn’t chase them. I wouldn’t try to hold on to what we had or win over their appreciation because hey, who needs it? Fine, great, good riddance.

But then I started to lose people who really mattered. But really lose them. Not just, ‘okay so you’ve walked away from me, you don’t want me in your life anymore, that’s cool, we’ll just continue on with our lives separately then’. No. They didn’t just leave me, they left everybody, everything. I would continue on with my life, and they would end theirs. They left. And they were never coming back.

So then I began to fight. I began to fight to keep the people in my life whom I felt I needed, but most importantly wanted there. Even if somebody made it very clear they no longer wanted anything to do with me, I’d fight. Because if I didn’t fight, I’d regret it. I’d always wonder if I had could have done more. So I’d fight. Even at times when they probably didn’t deserve my effort, or others wouldn’t understand why I was trying to hard to keep somebody who’d made it very clear they wanted out, I’d fight. And then even if they still walked away from me, I’d know I’d done everything I could to try and keep them.

But you can’t make people want you. You can’t make people appreciate you or make them understand how hard you’re trying. Most people just won’t, and never will. And that’s what we need to learn to accept. What I need to learn to accept.

In the past I’ve destroyed myself over the ‘Whys?’ and the ‘What did I do?’s. I’ve dwelled on conversations and overanalysed moments that I couldn’t change, but still told myself that maybe if I’d done something differently, or said something better, they wouldn’t want to leave. That it was because of these moments, because I never did or said the right thing at the right time, that I no longer had any worth to them. And that is a dangerous road to go down, especially when once you’ve gone down it, you find it very hard to turn back around.

But it isn’t always your fault, you know? That’s what I’m beginning to realise thanks to the most recent of walk-outs. It isn’t always your fault. You could be the most perfect person and do the most perfect things and say the most perfect words but at the end of the day, they can still leave you. That’s just life.

Because of the person I am today, the person I’ve grown into, I find it hard to understand that some people just don’t fight, or won’t fight, for something. I can’t wrap my head around people who don’t want to try, people who just give up when something gets to be the slightest bit difficult. But that’s just the way some people are, that’s what I’m beginning to realise. Everybody is different. And just because I want to fight for something, doesn’t mean somebody else has to too.

And then there’s the other side of it. The Pride Side. I am forever fighting an internal war between having far too much Pride and far too little. Again, when I was younger, I was a firm supporter of team ‘Far Too Little Pride’. I was so afraid of being seen as weak minded or a push-over that I forgave very little and forgot very rarely.