Hopeless Musing #33

Negotiations.

 

Source: https://www.pinterest.com.au/pin/708613322607012767/

NEGOTIATIONS.

Is life just a series of negotiations?

Swapping pain for a different type,

Sacrificing things that shouldn’t be,

 

For the sake of everyone else?

Hopeless Musing #32

Afterthought.

 

Source: https://www.pinterest.com.au/pin/332562753732079548/

AFTERTHOUGHT.

I keep waiting for your call.

I was hoping you wouldn’t forget me today.

Why is it that you make me feel so loved, and so alone, all at once?

But now it’s nearing midnight… have you forgotten me? I wonder when you’ll remember me.  Even as an afterthought.

That would be enough.

 

But perhaps it is simply me, who is not enough.

Hopeless Musing #31

What Now.

 

Source: https://www.pinterest.com.au/pin/604749056196129400/

WHAT NOW.

Every time I see you, I fall in love with you all over again.

I try and push you into my pockets, where I shove my hands – scared they will betray me and hold yours – snatch them right up off the table where they sit.

But these pockets are never deep enough and haven’t the room to keep the stuff I shove in them and I keep trying to breathe but…

what now?

Hopeless Musing #30

Light.

 

Source: https://www.pinterest.com.au/pin/474918723206764986/

LIGHT.

Some people turn our hearts to fire, and others turn them to ice.

But it doesn’t matter how long it’s been since I saw you last, your presence is like light. As soon as I see you, my problems melt away, burned by a fire that could never die.

There aren’t enough good words in the English language to describe how much I care about you.

But every day you walk this Earth, means I continue to walk it too.

Hopeless Musing #29

Trampled.

 

Source: https://www.pinterest.com.au/pin/408560997416764282/

TRAMPLED.

Roses litter the footpath, curling up as if in agony where they’ve been trampled by passers-by. Their petals are brown at the edges, cut and bruised and betrayed, cut loose from the place they once flourished.

Where does the circle of life start and end?

When do these roses find their way back to the ground, to the soil, and give life to something new, if not by being trampled?

Why do we see them as broken and useless, when they are valuable forever?

Hopeless Musing #28

Losing Time.

 

Source: https://www.pinterest.com.au/pin/AZwGHxmE2jAmJGxLwOBJXMSK-xHpcQKODrC-uas5_i3CVUTpaAPoUyU/

LOSING TIME.

One minute I’m here, the next minute I’m there. Except from this minute to the next, has thirty more in between that I can’t recall.

I lose time from time to time, when I don’t think I do at all. Sometimes it’s minutes, other times it’s months. Sometimes I remember, sometimes I do not.

Depending who I am, depends on where I am. Depending on who appears, depends on what I know. Depending on who comes out to play, depends on how I act.

I never used to think about it, until I had to think about it. When I realized the different ‘parts’ of me know different parts of me. 

Hopeless Musing #27

Letters.

 

SOurce: https://weheartit.com/entry/333961481?context_page=3&context_query=plant+photography&context_type=search

LETTERS.

Sometimes I wish I could throw my phone away – in an age so hung up on technology, how lovely it would be to send letters to you.

Writing my feelings was always so much easier than saying them, but when they’re stuck on a screen, they don’t feel as real. They become just another another status update, another tweet, another instant message… another meaningless, emotionless stamp in time. Just one button-click away from each other.

But there’s something so much more authentic, when the words on the paper have traveled miles, days and across continents, just to reach you.

I miss handwriting, I miss ink smudges and tear drops and accidental errors, scrubbed out and re-written.

I miss unfolding and folding beloved letters, reading and re-reading, until the paper grew worn and felt like velvet at the folds. I miss seeing the letters and words on pages ripped from books and notepads, that weren’t perfectly typed, but written, scrawled and scarred – imperfectly perfect – a story in a story.

But mostly, I just miss feeling something real.

 

 

Hopeless Musing #26

Stardust.

 

 

Sourvce: https://www.pinterest.com.au/pin/725642558686989301/

STARDUST.

I told the stars about you.

But they already knew who you were.

You shine brighter than the rest ever did, simply by existing.

And yet, they still love you, just as much as I.

 

It’s hard not to love someone made of stardust.

Hopeless Musing #25

Dissociation.

 

Source; https://www.pinterest.com.au/pin/166422148710607935/

DISSOCIATION.

They say dissociation is like watching yourself in a boring movie, hyper aware that something is terribly, terribly wrong.

You’re in your own head, but outside your body – staring at a reflection that you can’t seem to recognize as your own.

But it’s hard being in your own head all the time.

No one else has to hear the million tiny voices inside your head, all saying different things for different reasons at different times. Making you feel different.

No one else would want to know me if they knew the things I kept locked tightly behind a door, nailed shut and set alight, for fear of what might come tumbling out of the void.

My mind moves, but my mouth doesn’t. If only people heard the words I wanted to say. If only what I felt and what I said weren’t on two completely different planets to each other, living completely separate lives.

My facade of self-confidence is hiding a self-loathing so deep I don’t know how to stay afloat. I simply sink deeper into the depths of this unhappy existence, all made up inside my mind – sabotage of the self.

I float in a world where no one else exists, and the smallest sounds echo, and my only friend is my reflection – which doesn’t even look like me.

Maybe one day the person I see in the mirror will be someone recognizable and capable of talking back. Standing up. Having a voice. Able to make waves and swim out of the cave I’m in and back to shore.

Maybe one day I’ll be able to find a home, where the house is warm, and there’s tea on the counter and I won’t have to drown anymore.

 

Hopeless Musing #24

Peculiar.

 

Source: https://weheartit.com/entry/331467118?context_page=3&context_query=peony+bouquet&context_type=search

PECULIAR.

It’s peculiar, how some people seem to stroll into our lives as if God had them made especially for us. Their very essence is like a gravity made only for us, drawing us closer to them without us noticing, until we look in their eyes one day, and realize exactly what they mean to us.

It’s heartbreaking and beautiful, all at the same time.

It’s the most peculiar thing. They tell stories of a life before you knew them, and yet you feel you were there all along.

And you both know it, but you dare n’t say the words aloud, for fear the world around you both will come crashing down.