Week 20 – The Inevitable Fall

Hear that cracking,
The crumbling sound?
see those small pile of pebbles
that’s turning into a mountain?
Or The tiny crack that will soon be a canyon?

That is her falling apart.
It has been a long time coming
But she knows the end is soon.

She is keeping her distance,
Away from people
No one can be allowed to see.
For if they see her true self
When the mask finally falls
And the facade ends,
She will never be able to build herself up again.

She has been acting strong for so long,
She saw how people believed it
Till she finally believed it herself.
If that image is torn,
It will never be real again.
She will never be that ever again.

She has chased people away
Till the fall and rise are done,
Till she builds herself to who she was
With better reinforcement so it never happens again.

She can never allow her strength and confidence to waver
For the stakes get higher after every fall.

So leave her alone and let her be,
Turn a blind eye
And pretend you don’t see it
Till she makes her way back to the living again

Week 19 – When I Wake

Groggy and sluggish I wake daily
Unable to move my head.
My brain recounts the odd and hyperactive dreams,
That keep me unrested.

I can no longer muster the energy to be spry.
I sit on my bed’s edge like I did back when I was a teen,
Staring at the random grains on the varnished floor
Waiting for my brain to begin ticking.

Cogs are rusty and squeak.
My cognitive faculties deteriorating day by day,
The internal departments unable to communicate as they did,
Once upon a time.

I’ve been avoiding that addictive elixir I call coffee, for many years now
Trying desperately not to rely on its magical properties.
I yearn for the boost and clarity it provides me,
But do not miss the occasional gastric wrenching.
Oh, that Aroma.

Sleep seems to be one of my constant desires,
Yet I fight it for I have so much I wish to do.
‘Wasted Time’ I often think, though I know better.
The ‘wasted time’ still wasted on my lack of energy to do what I wish.

I find myself disconnecting during the day
Just staring off into space.
I may be mid conversation and lose my train of thought,
Sometimes losing it completely.

The whirlpool is strong,
Drowning my mind.
Do I keep swimming against the current and hope for the best?
Or should I just let myself get swept away?

Fatigue… is my shadow companion
Depression is his brother.
Darkness follows their trail,
For a mother cannot leave her children alone for too long.

Fight it all I tell myself,
But sometimes one is too empty
Too empty to wake
To think
To care
And too empty to even drink that aromatic roasted elixir.

If I knew

If I knew where I’m going, I would take what I need and what I’ve always wanted but never had the courage to claim.

If I knew where I’m going, I would spit all those comebacks and justifications that I chose then never to reveal for the sake of propriety or what I thought  was right.

If I knew where I’m going, I would pack lightly, practically, and forsake what was once dragging me behind.

If I knew where I’m going, I would slip out quietly, for once giving up the desire for attention that I desperately sought before.

If I knew where I’m going, I would only look back once ..as tribute for a life once lived.

If I knew where I’m going, I would bottle their laughter, puns and silly jokes

I would box all their unexpected hugs, their knowing nudges, and comfort touches.

If I knew where I’m going I would leave at once, and Leave the mess to be dealt with by someone else.

If I knew where I’m going, I would walk surely, steadily and calmly knowing I no longer, need my thoughts filtered, my expression hidden nor do I need to change the subject anymore,

I would finally stop deflecting.

If I was just sure of where I’m going I would finally be OK

If only I knew where I’m going.

Week 19 – Break

I want  break these walls,
The walls that surround my heart, soul, and life.
I built them to protect me,
To become my sanctuary.
But they have become my prison.

I want to break them
Become free.
Go everywhere.
Know everyone.
Love.
Be loved.
Live my life for the first time.

But I am terrified.
These walls are all that I know.
They are a part of me,
They are me.
Without them,
I don’t know who I would be.

I want to break these wall
But the fear of the unknown is too much.
It is crippling my every move.
I want to break these walls
But I am afraid
I will just end up breaking me.

Shooting Stars

My father and I went to the market; he had suggested it since I had been frustrated with the constant crying of my newborn child. My husband, eager to help, had taken our son from my arms, and told me to take a break. I hurried along, happy to escape for a while. We were away for one hour, and as we walked back I saw my mother sitting in the balcony enjoying a tiny glass of green tea. I could see my brother playing football with the neighbor’s son on the street, my brother had been screaming “goal” and dancing. He saw us and instantly waved his hands in excitement and just as I started raising my hand to wave back, the shooting stars rained upon us.

***

Attempting to sit down with a couple of broken ribs was very painful, but I managed. I had to. My dad sat down next to me, wincing because he accidentally moved his broken arm. It wasn’t a comfortable place to sit, but it wasn’t like we had that much of an option. He looked at me with a smile though and hugged me with his other arm. He wouldn’t leave my side; he made sure I came with him even when I begged him to leave me behind, to save himself. We were both a mess, from burns, broken bones, cuts and bruises, but we made it.

Here I’m with my father on top of the rubble, battered as we watched the sky. We sat there in silence as we huddled close, not feeling that much of the pain. Maybe it was the adrenaline coursing through our bodies, at this point it didn’t matter. I sighed and laid my head on my father’s chest; I could hear his heart beating fast. It was very calming. I looked up at the sky, it was dark. I couldn’t see the stars or the moon from all the smoke; I could only see the shooting stars. They were magnificent; they flew with so much grace. Next to me my father shuddered, he was looking down at the rubble of what was once our home. If I looked closely I would still see my husband from where I sat, I smiled at his protective nature. He was covering our four months old child with his body. I could see someone’s arm too, I thought it belonged to my neighbor but I wasn’t sure. My baby brother was crushed by a car nearby. We stayed next to him till he stopped screaming and crying from the pain, till he finally took his last breath. I could hear someone screaming from under the bricks and stones but the agony eventually died out. There were scattered limbs everywhere and even someone’s brain. I had never seen a human brain before; it doesn’t look that different from a cow’s. We couldn’t find my other brothers and my mother, but we knew they didn’t survive. No one did.

I shuddered in fear as the shooting stars neared us, my father held me close. I could feel his arm trembling. He tried to be stoic to what was too come, but death is a hard enemy to face. I like to believe it wasn’t death that scared us, it was the pain. My heart jumped, beating faster; I hid my face into my father’s arm as my body shook violently. The smell of burnt flesh made it difficult to calm my racing heart. I don’t know how long it took, it could have been a second, a minute or an hour but it felt like forever. My eyes were squeezed shut. Anytime now I thought. The earth shook with the impact, I could feel it. I could see it too, behind my eyelids. Bright light pierced through them, I smiled because the shooting stars were giving me a sign that it had begun striking again. I kept my eyes shut, waiting to meet my creator. Everything went quiet and I heard my son crying, and a hand touched my back and as I turned I found my husband crouched down close to me, smiling.

“What took you so long?” he asked as he handed me our son.

***

Week 18 – Becoming Self-Aware

I know who I am -kinda, and I know what made me this way, or so I thought.
But now, I am becoming self aware; breaking my very own 4th wall.
I always thought that yes, I am a product of my environment,  but in a different way. I thought that I saw what society was telling people who to be, and I reacted differently,  acted out I guess. I thought I was right, strong, fought and triumphed. 
But now, I have my doubts!
Society has told women that their beauty is what makes them strong,  desirable, and unique. I see girls and women taking complete care of themselves;  hair , makeup and style done to perfection. But on the other hand, I own a total of 3 makeup thingies that my friend made me buy and that I use twice a year when I am forced to. As for my clothes am completely fine with wearing the same outfit for a week, buying the same colors and style. I just don’t care.
I don’t care how awesome I look. I don’t dress to impress.  As long as I am presentable and don’t look like a hobo, I am good to go.
I don’t know why I am like that… I just am.
But who is right?

I see people taking countless selfies of themselves, no one else in the picture. But I find it impossible to do the same. I could be on the top of the highest mountain with a spectacular view, open the front camera, but be unable to take the picture. It just feels like I am doing something wrong, shameful.
While people love having their picture taken, I have always prefer to be out of the frame.
Are they conceited or am I insecure?!

Most people cannot wait to fall in love.  They keep getting involved and having relationships. But for me, it is something that I am dreading. So now I wonder if it is a self esteem thing; I was never loved so I don’t feel lovable.  So as a self protection mechanism,  did I condemn love? But no! I am sure it is a result of my observations! People lie, deceive, live in illusions, break hearts, then move on to the next one. I have long had my doubts about it! I don’t think I have conditioned myself!

But what if all that I thought I was; my strong personality, resilience, quirkiness,  are all not who I really am? What if I have been brainwashed and conditioned? It was just done stealthy by my subconscious!
I have always thought I had fought the current, gone my own way, shaped my own personality. But could it be that at the end, I did go with the flow, it was just a different river?!

Week 18 – Tick Tock

Tick tock goes the clock

Tick tock go to sleep

Tick tock goes the clock

Tick tock wake up

Tick tock goes the clock

Tick tock do your work

Tick tock don’t stop

Tick tock do speak sweet

Tick tock or not

Tick tock flies the clock

Tick tock it won’t stop

Tick tock laughs the clock

Tick tock hear it mock

 

Week 17 – Simple love

she loves herself.
But at times she realises that she loves herself because she is supposed to; it is mandatory,  the way it should be. It is after all the right thing to do.
But sometimes she feels it is not enough.
Maybe it is because she knows deep inside, just how strong her demons are. She knows that if she were to meet herself as another person, she won’t like who she is. She knows all her rough edges, but she doesn’t want to smooth anything out
She is strong.  She has survived a lot. She has grown impenetrable skin, never to be harmed or even scratched. But late at night she knows she can’t sleep because she wants to feel loved. She doesn’t want a great love story worthy of movies. She just wants to feel loved and cared for. She wants to be seen, admired, but not put on a pedestal.  She needs someone to see who she really is, and feel without a doubt, that that person is worth loving.
She wants her scars to be attractive.
Her roughness to be desired. 
She wants someone to show her that she doesn’t need to be anyone else,  that she doesn’t need to fake anything even for a second.
She wants to feel her heart beat.
She needs to feel alive.

Week 16 – Carla loves Frank

‘Carla loves Frank’ was scrawled on the decrepit wall. The neon pink paint still stood out through the generations of dust piled on top. Sierra gripped her SMG wondering how life must have been back then, before the Infestation. She tried to step carefully through the echoing ruins. Although she had trekked through the halls of the train station several times, today felt different. ‘Stay alert’ she kept reminding herself. She had a feeling she might have to actually use her combat training.

‘Carla loves Frank’ – Wait! Did I get turned around? She thought. Drip, drip. The writing looked darker. Drip, drip. Sierra made her way towards the graffiti. Drip, Drip. As she got closer, the colour became clearer thanks to the dregs of light shining through. She reached out and touched the scribbles. ‘Fresh…blood?’

CLICK CLICK CLACK CLICK. CLICK CLICK CLACK CLICK. TUT TUT CLICK TUT. Click…click…tut…

Sierra’s heart fell into a pit and her insides shuddered – screaming at her to turn around, to run.

CLICK CLICK CLACK CLICK. CLICK CLICK CLACK CLICK. TUT TUT CLICK TUT. Click…click…tut…

The sounds repeated. ‘They’re here…’ More joined in, voices rising. CLICK CLICK CLACK TUT TUT CLICK. With tiny steps, still gripping tight her SMG, she turned slowly, hoping to postpone what was to come. The dripping was now drowned out by the chatter. Sierra faced them, a horde of creatures resembling crickets and cockroaches. Antennae that seemed to move of their own accord with exoskeletons slimy and crunchy.

Sierra gulped down the last of her saliva, unable to produce more. The army stood before her. The Festants had arrived. CLICK, CLICK, CLACK, CLICK. They continued. Her heart pounding against her ribcage, attempting to escape. She knew this was probably the end. She thought about those who waited back at the camp unaware. She knew her mission. ‘I might as well go out with a bang,’ she thought. ‘At least now they’ll have a head-start.’

Gun in hand, she wailed her tribe’s war-cry. Her machine gun screamed, raining metal fury on the monsters. She continued fighting even as her magazine finished, and even as the horde overpowered her. She fought as they tore her limb from limb, but as they were just about to take her heart she thought, ‘Fuck you Carla and Frank’.

Simple Desires Chapter 5

warning this chapter containes self harm and may cause triggers,if you are uncomfortable with the content please do not read.
“Hi Cecilia how are? “My mum greeted sweetly
“Hi mum “something was up, I could feel it
“So how is work? “The sweet tone continued
“Uhh good.”
“Have you met someone?”
Theeere it is
“No, mum still a spinster”
“ohh Cecelia I wish you would stop joking about this”
“Its fine mum I don’t mind my humor “
“You know that smart mouth of yours won’t get you a husband “my mum said making me feel we were in the 50’s
“Mum did you want anything, are you ok?”i asked cautiously
“Yes dear I’m fine, but I would really like it if you could join me for dinner “she said seriously
“But I was just there yesterday, is something wrong mum? Is…Is someone dying?
“No, Cecile you morbid goose no one is dying” my mum answered now annoyed
“I want you to meet someone “she returned back to her sweet voice
“Mum no…just no, your last fix up was a disaster!” I said exasperated
“Honestly Philips was completely fine” she huffed
“Mum he smelled his hands after scratching himself, who the hell does that!”
“Water under the bridge dear” my mum said dismissively “I want you to dress up cause I invited Tom for dinner he’s decent and he has his own hardware store in town , I have a feeling you will hit it off”
“With Tom the handy man “I said mockingly
“You know Cecilia I really don’t appreciate this tone and I’m quite upset that you take my effort for granted when all I’m doing is helping you have your happy ending!”
Aaaand cue the guilt trip
When is the dinner mum?
“Tonight at 8, you can even bring Chris, I know how much he helps you relax and it’s been a long time since he’s been over”
“Mum he was there last month “I deadpanned
“I know, hence long time”
“Mum are you also setting Chris up?” I asked mortified by the idea, I’ve seen it before it doesn’t end well “Cause I can tell you that is doomed to fail “
And apparently he’s already taken I thought bitterly
Stop it Cecilia! You had a fight, he has a secret someone and you should accept it and move on
“No, I know he has a special taste”
“Mum for the hundredth time, Chris is not gay”
“I know, he didn’t register on my gaydar “
“Mum!”
“Anyway invite him over with you and don’t be late “
And then she hung up
Ohh for the love of Google!
I headed back home around 5:30 after an exhausting day, I took a shower followed by a power nap, and started to get ready at 7:30
I wore that flowy forest green dress I adored, put on some light makeup that emphasized my light hazel eyes and headed out.
As I closed my door I slipped Chris a piece of paper under his door telling him about the invitation
I know I’m being childish by not texting him , and there’s a big chance he won’t see it or make it on time ,but I was so hurt by his outburst I didn’t care .
I don’t understand how he could be so closed off after years and years of friendship, I was his best friend for god’s sake!
I arrived 15 minutes early which meant I had to endure a reprimand/advice from mum about how I spend my money, take care of my skin and how I’m running out of baby popping time.
At 8 sharp the bell rang and surprisingly it was Chris, my mum had opened the door greeting Chris warmly without hugging him (she had learned that the hard way), I stayed in the kitchen pretending to prepare the food being the coward that I am I didn’t feel up to another yelling match, but I could easily hear my mum’s voice
“Oh Chris you look exhausted”
“Yeah, had a big case I’ve been working on “Chris answered quietly
“Oh and have you won?”
“Yes, actually the closing argument was today he answered his voice sounding off to me
My mum didn’t notice
“That’s wonderful dear, I hear you’re quiet the successful lawyer “
“Not particularly “Chris said in a miserable voice
Again my mum hadn’t noticed
What was going on, I thought he won why did he sound defeated?
“You’re such a humble and kind man Chris, it’s a shame you’re still single”
What was mum doing?
“I mean, any girl would love to have you as her husband “
Mum don’t go there
“I don’t think it’s in the cards for me Mrs. M” he answered sadly
“Oh don’t be silly dear, I’m sure the right girl is just waiting under your nose”
Oh…my…god
Shit shit shit
It was a setup, there was no Tom!
I had to intervene before my mum’s anvil sized hints would get blunter
I finally had the courage to step out
“Hi Chris “I greeted him as if we haven’t had the mother of all fights this morning
“There’s my girl, look at her Chris, isn’t she just lovely “my mum cooed sweetly
Chris had his piercing eyes on me and I rushed to interrupt whatever he was going to say, because honestly I wasn’t sure if his response would make me happy or hurt.
“Mum I thought Tom the handy man was coming “
“Oh bad news dear, he just texted saying he couldn’t make it “
Lies all lies
“That’s too bad” I said faking my disappointment
Chris’ eyes shot up at me
“Oh Chris, what will I ever do with Cecilia, she doesn’t seem to want to meet someone”mum said disapprovingly
“Hello I’m right here”
“Maybe she needs to work on her people skills “Chris offered
What the flying axe of Thor!
”My people skills are just fine Chris “I looked him straight in the eye
“Maybe more of your sense of boundaries then “he said coldly
“Well if I wasn’t dealing with a stubborn brick wall maybe I would back off “I raised my voice
“Well maybe that brick wall is comfortable being what it is, and doesn’t need you picking at it! “He raised back
“Ha! Oh I assure you that brick wall can shove as much bricks up it’s…”
“Cecilia!” my mum interrupted looking miffed
´I’ll go prepare the salad “I said before storming out
The dinner was as awkward as it could get, after we finished Chris excused himself to the bathroom
After 10 minutes I started to worry, so I went to find him in our guest bathroom, but it was empty
I climbed the stairs to look in my bedroom bathroom when I heard scratching
The door was slightly opened due to a problem with the latch, and apparently Chris hadn’t noticed
I slowly edge near the bathroom and peer through the crack.
And my heart broke…
I saw Chris leaning on the wall his back sweating through his shirt, the soft black hair at the back of his neck also damp.
He’s breathing irregularly like the air around him is toxic
His sleeves are rolled up
I can see the bruise clear as day, but what chills me to my bone is what I see him doing
He’s scratching himself, hungrily like there’s something eating at him from inside, his arm is starting to bleed but he doesn’t stop
He continues panting and scratching and it’s getting so bloody that it’s just awful to look at what he’s doing. His nails are bloody as well as his palms, but his sleeves remain rolled up neatly and clean
He knows what he’s doing
And then he slows down, and gradually his breath starts to even out.
I edge back as quietly as possible and climb down the stairs in a daze
Chris is hurting himself
Chris has done this before
How could I have not noticed?
I head out to backyard because I felt I would burst out and howl from the scene I just witnessed.
I don’t know how long I remained motionless tears threatening to burst at any moment
But I snapped back at the sound of a car driving out of our drive way
I don’t have to guess, I know its Chris.