anger, fear, letting go, lies, personal, writing

Letter to a Nomad_2

I’m not afraid anymore. 

I’m tired of being treated like a helpless princess who’s constantly in need of some shitty knight who’s packing an ego instead of a sword. I’m fucking angry that every guy I come across thinks I’m some project, a mystery to unravel. I’m none of these things. I’m a fucking woman and this does not mean I can’t handle whatever tornado hits me next. 

I’m a whirlwind and every guy I meet better watch out before starting the race he thinks his competing in to get in my pants. I will break you down, piece by piece until you have no choice but to call me a tease. You can’t jump the gun when there’s no finish line anyway. 

I’m pissed off at guys who think I’m mentally unstable because I can’t fathom being an accessory to their arrogance. Fuck off Sherlock, I wear crazy better on my own anyway. It must be nice thinking you’re the catch of the century when my head ain’t even in this era. 

But most of all I’m livid at the blatant disrespect women show one another, all in a bid to win an imaginary war. The claws come out, and it’s always the same weapon they draw, their words. I’ve never witnessed a more spiteful age to be alive than now, where the punches get thrown and it hits your self esteem and it takes months to recover. I’m appalled at how we call each other out on faults that has no business being aired. 

And finally I’m fucking fuming that it took me this long to get angry, getting angry means moving on and moving on means forgiving myself. So yes I’m not afraid of facing my truths anymore because my truths aren’t all that bad. So you see Nomad, this is my epiphany, this is my “light bulb” moment where I realise that my anger is warranted and that I have the right to get loud. I’m tired of holding my tongue and hoping my words don’t result in whiplash. I’m done being me the timid me that allowed anybody make me feel like I owed them nothing but a helpless princess. So this is me getting on my own horse with my strength as my shield…

family, Friend, personal, writing

Letters to a Nomad_1

Dear Nomad

I write to you because like me you have no permanent place. You’re constantly changing and moving. There’s no such thing as stagnant. 

I started a new job about 4 months ago, and as much as I love the people I work with I can’t see myself working there much longer. I’ve been opened up to a new world and currently I’m not being challenged. Everyday it’s the same thing, kind of robotic if you ask me. And I am not one to sit infront of a laptop all day and reply to emails with the same generic response. I’ve become so comfortable knowing that I got things handled at work. I can’t be bothered to show up on time because I know the only thing waiting on me is a bunch of emails and follow ups with clients. Tell me how do I change this, how do I get myself out of this rut of comfort I’ve so unwillingly found myself in? 

Some days my job takes alot out of me, and those are the days I enjoy the most. The one’s where I have to think on my feet and find the easiest solution to a problem. I thrive under pressure and I don’t know whether it’s a good or bad thing. Does this mean I can only love what I do of if it leaves me utterly exhausted and drained at the end of the day?

I’ve discovered that it’s hard finding my place in this world. How do I find where I belong when I don’t even know who I am? I’ve been super distant lately, not only from my family but my friends. If you asked me why I would not be able to give you an honest answer. I just didn’t feel like speaking.

I feel like I’m surrounded by people who don’t get me. And that’s selfish of me expecting those around me to understand what I’m going through when I can’t formulate what it is I’m currently feeling. My feelings are fleeting, I’d feel one way in this moment and super depleted in the next. I can’t expect anyone to know what I’m feeling when I don’t feel it long enough to put it into words. 

I kind of just want to be alone, and not alone in the sense of I don’t want anyone around me, but in a way where nobody is constantly knocking on my door wondering what it is I’m feeling or where it is I’ve disappeared to. I just want a chance to feel what it is I’m feeling without being overwhelmed by outside contributions. I want to be able to express myself and not be too exhausted to even breath when I get home. 

So tell me, how do I make my parents understand that my job isn’t making me happy. How do I make them understand that’s it’s causing the depression to rear it’s ugly head again? 

emotional, fear, poetry, writing

I want it back

Hello have you seen my dignity?

I’m sure I left it somewhere around here

Between your sheets and rough hands

Hello have you seen my honor?

I could have sworn I lost it around here

Somewhere between our sparring words and your shallow looks

Hello have you seen my voice? 

I’m sure it’s out here

Between our flying fists and tangled limbs

Hello have you seen me

family, love, motivational, personal, writing

To the me I forgot…

Little Girl with the pigtails swinging and the laughter ringing. I think about you everyday. We endured so much,  I remember you as far back as when we were five. We’re 23 now and my god child did we have to grow up fast. We hit every milestone differently. 

Little Girl with the loud laughter and floral garter. I guess I should start by apologising to you. I’m sorry that I put us through so much, you never deserved it. You were always a brave one but I let you down and lost our bravery somewhere along the way. I promise I’m trying to get it back. I’m sorry he broke our heart, I should never have let him in because I thought his looks encompassed his shitty ways. But we got over him, didnt we. I’m so proud of us for that. I’m sorry that I derailed our plans for a future in law. I swear I tried really hard in that math exam. But you know numbers was never our thing. You’d probably laugh if you saw me a few years ago struggling with university level statstatistics.I know right, what was I thinking. I’m sorry I made you sit through 5 years of uni and not once did you love what you were doing. I think you always knew we were made to sit with a pen and a book but as always I was stubborn and followed in the footsteps of society. I guess if there’s one thing we learnt is that university teaches you nothing theoretically but fuck it taught us so much about life, love and friends. I’m sorry I made you lose so many friends, I really tried to keep them in our life but we couldn’t grow without letting go. If anything those we lost taught us something different about ourself. I’m sorry I went and fell inlove again, and this time it feels like forever. It was never meant to be anything serious. He was only meant to be another station on our journey but now I can’t seem to get back on the train. Most of all I’m sorry for that night. I’m sorry that he took you away from me, don’t worry I’m fighting back though. I am looking for you in every destitute corner I can think of. I cannot continue on this journey without you. I don’t think I’ll make it. 

Little Girl with hidden tears and long lost fears. I know right now I seem like I can’t wait to grow up but that cannot be further from the truth. If anything I want to go back to when we got excited each Wednesday because we knew it meant a trip to the library. Or when we we won first prize for our words. If you knew what growing up meant you would not want to walk down that road. Growing up means less laughter, less friends and even less family. I think what we most wanted was freedom. Believe me little girl there is no freedom at 23, only constraints put on us by ourself. Growing up hurts, and we will be hurt by everyone we encounter since our heart is fragile. They might not hurt us intentionally but they will add another layer of concrete to our tender defense. So believe me when I say I am in no rush to grow up any more than I already have, I am in a rush to find you because finding you means finding myself and that will be our freedom.  

Little Girl with open eyes and fleeting lies. We are finally at a place in our where we aren’t ruled by the superficial need to impress people who dont know our name. We have put a name to our dreams, we have lost all other chains that tied us to those constraints that we forcefully put upon ourselves. We have realised that maybe our happily ever after is not found in the shape of a guy and 2.5 kids and we’re almost okay with that. Don’t worry little girl I’m trying to get back to the me that i forgot…

emotional, Friend, letting go, lies, love, personal, writing

I Realised. 

Tonight was pathetically funny.It was new years eve and I can definitely say it wasn’t my best. It can actually be thrown in there with a few of my “worsts”. 

I woke up feeling sad. And not the type of sad that makes you want to cry or scream but the type of sad that screams empty. If you’re unfortunate enough to be in my vicinity you would probably hear its echoes. The first thing I did this morning was look in the mirror. Not look at my face or my hair, but look at my eyes. I was hoping to see abit of a sparkle or something that told me I’m doing better. I found nothing. I wish I was exaggerating but I mean it when I say I found nothing. Two empty brown eyes just staring at me. Looking, looking and looking. Im tired of always looking, waiting for that spark to go on. 

The music in the club was loud, but not loud enough to drown out my mistakes. The drinks weren’t enough to make me forget everything that makes me feel this way. And the company wasn’t enough to make me want to stay. I just wanted out all night, out of my head, out of that place and out of this life. I couldn’t enjoy myself. I can’t understand why, why I couldn’t leave my head. I just wanted to be present in the moment. I played my part well though, I smiled and laughed at the right moments. I danced when I was supposed to, I made the necessary small talk. All to convince everyone around me that I’m not crumbling. But I am, god damn I am. And I don’t know how to get back up.

I don’t feel like fighting anymore. As long as I’m left fighting, I’m always going to remember. And when I remember all I can do is feel at fault. I’ve been told a few times that  night was not my fault. I’m not convinced though. I’m always questioning myself, trying to put together what if’s that wont materialise. Scenarios are always being played over in my head that leaves me feeling less than the current mess I am. Funny thing is as time goes on, instead of forgetting what happened, I’m dwelling on it.

I’m expecting the drinks and the blunts to make me feel better, but the truth is, when I come down from that high; I’m a little less than before. A little less alive. If I keep going down this destructive road, then soon there won’t be much left of me. And I’ve got to save some pieces for the people that matter. 

It’s crazy though, how last night I felt closer to someone halfway across the world than the ones I was surrounded by. A few voice notes and I realised something. I realised that distance doesn’t cover love, and that I’ve been so closed off to those around me because I know. I know that the one around the corner does not understand what it means when I say I’m fine, and that I’m still so fucking angry at her for falling asleep. I realised the one across the field doesn’t want to hear about how broken I am, and that I still resent her for abandoning me that night. I realised how the rest of my friends are basic bystanders to my life, people who I’ve know forever and love, but can no longer take up room. But most of all I realised I need to be on my own for awhile. Away from people who know what happened. I need closure, because I cannot move forward if I don’t learn how to forgive myself, not only for that night but for everything else that made me feel less. 

It’s time for me to learn how to let go, and if I can’t do that then I’m not sure if i’ll ever get better. I need to start being honest with myself, and the truth is I’ve become destructive. I’ve not done things with my heart, instead doing things that will only hurt me in the end. I’ve realised many things, but most importantly I have realised that I  am my own enemy.  

emotional, Friend, letting go, love, motivational, personal, writing

Why am I doing this?

I write and I write, constantly reliving the same hell through my words. Words I’ve come to love and hate, not in that particular order necessarily. I’m always looking for new ways to put into words how I’m feeling. But what happens when I stop feeling or run out of words? 

I’m scared of many things, I could probably spend an entire day writing about my fears and how they are this anchor holding me in a place I so desperately want to escape from. I don’t want to do that though. I’ve realised that pen and paper are not always the solution and sometimes I need to take action. I’m not the type of person to get up in a hurry, or tap my foot incessantly because the queue is long. Instead I am that person who is offbeat and prefer things done in a more “chilled” way. I don’t rush to make my coffee because I know I’ll get to the kitchen eventually. I treat my problems the same way. I don’t face them, in hope of eventually showing up and sorting it out for me. 

This year though I’ve learned that eventually never shows up. And if it does the only thing its holding is more heartache. I lost my best friend I’ve known since first grade, she didn’t die, but she eventually replaced me with a fiancé. I won’t lie and say it doesn’t matter because it does, it hurts. I miss her everyday, I miss her the most when she walks pass me and only offers a smile. I lost my hope, not because I wanted to but because I couldn’t go on. I eventually realised that my hope wasn’t getting me anywhere in any case. It hurts more than losing my best friend, since I tethered so many dreams onto this thin string that held my hope. I lost my light, not by choice but by force and eventually I found out that my light was not lighting up any pathways. That hurt more than losing hope, my light was my thing. The thing that beyond the thin strings kept me together. I lost my ability to look in the mirror without flinching, not because I’m unhappy with my appearance, but eventually I only saw that night in my face. That hurt more than losing my light, I was always put together with a smile and a few dysfunctional days. Now I rely on passing windows to show me what it is I’m missing. 

I’m currently unravelled and I don’t know where to start. Do I start small and just get rid of the knots or do I start over? I question myself over and over, searching for answers to a question so simple its comical. I start things and don’t look for reasons as to why I’m going down that road, always choosing the path that goes straight. Always scared of the self inflicted bumps. So next time I find myself ready to wait for eventually I’ll ask myself why am I doing this?

girlfriend, heartbreak, letting go, love, personal, writing

Blatantly Oblivious.

I bury my feelings where you won’t be able to touch them. Deep down in a dark corner, that has gathered dust and cobwebs. A place you won’t bother to look because all you’ll want is easy and I am not easy to fall for, or easy to understand. 

What I am is at least seven types of crazy embroiled in thirty shades of undiscovered. I let myself go only when the music is turned up loud and I’m surrounded by strange faces. Never in front of you though. 
I hide every part of me that matters most, for the fear that you won’t want to understand.

I take my time sharing various parts of me, judging the outcome on a scale that never balances. It always seems to be tipped a little to the left, my baggage outweighing your compassion. 

I don’t mean to be difficult, but I’ve lived. I’ve lived a thousand lives not meant for one person and I’ve survived. So forgive me if I don’t willingly hand over my pieces like they aren’t anything less than sacred. Forgive me if I cannot look you in the eyes because mine cannot take the pressure your stare puts on me. Forgive me for being all types of broken and not letting you fix me. I’m a work in progress.
I’ve not reached that point where I can finally say I’m free. I’ve neither reached the point where I’m unconditionally happy. Instead I spend my days wondering if I’m doing the right thing letting you into my life when I have this much weight to shoulder. I find myself randomly questioning my ability to lead a normal life. 

What is normal though. Do I play it safe and just go with the crowd or do I start writing that book on things that might break my mother’s heart even if it will help me help me heal mine? Do I start putting myself first and alienate those who no longer serve to uplift my spirit?

If I should ever write that book, I will write it with my soul. I’ll write about the late night bus trips, the constant weekends spent in the same club, I’ll write about you, and I’ll write about that night. 

Everything just feels blurred at the moment and I cant see myself doing the regular things. I’m not made for the life my parents want. I’m made for things that feed my soul, things that encompass everything I am and want to be. And right now you aren’t doing that, instead you’re draining what little life I have left in me. So I’m making a change, and for once I’ll try to not be blatantly oblivious…

heartbreak, personal, poetry, writing

Always You

You’re not allowed to do that to me

Youre not allowed to make me crave your presence and just walk away 

You’re not allowed to drink from my lips to fill up your empty soul

You can not be allowed to trample all over my fragile soul

You’re not allowed to open up doors you had no intention of ever shutting

You will never be allowed to so carelessly take parts of me without my permission ever again