I’m starting to understand why I feel the way that I feel right now. For as long as I can remember I’ve always been one to wear my heart on my sleeve, and I’ve always been someone that loves really hard, I give it my all, and I fight long passed one ideally should, I fight when any other man would have walked away and tended to his wounds. Instead I keep fighting, while the wounds I have become infected with an infatuated and insane inability to just walk away. I fight. That’s what I do, only this time I realised that I just can’t anymore, I just don’t have the capacity to anymore. I have far too many wounds to tend to and now my heart is under lock and key. I’m coming to the realisation that I never want to wear it on my sleeve again and I never want to give it to anyone again, and I probably never will, not all of it anyway.
My heart has belonged to one woman for the past 6 years. She took half of it when she asked me who the hell I was, and I told her I’d be whoever the hell she wanted me to be. And the other half when we were on the phone, long into the early hours of the morning, the night before she was due to leave and start a new life in a whole other continent, she said my name, the way only she says it. Paused for a second, then stuttered “I… I… I…” before saying she loved me and the let out a sigh, and I said it back, and it sounds weird but I heard her smiling, that beautiful, amazing, captivating smile. Moments after which, she cried, and so did I, I remember because that’s the only recollection of happy tears I have, and probably the only recollection I will ever have.
But the thing is those are two pleasant memories among dozens of unpleasant, venomous, stinging ones, and now I feel nothing. I used to miss her voice everyday that I didn’t hear it, I used to think about her every single day and now I don’t, all of those feelings gone just like that, into thin air, and well, it’s not worth it. She should never have had my heart, and I should not have been so foolish to give it so easily. But they say you can’t chose who you fall in love with, or when you fall in love, I guess that’s one of the things I hate about love, but then again it’s what makes love so beautiful. The thing is I just can’t anymore. From her I learnt that it’s possible to keep your heart guarded, to make it harder for love to surprise you and take you prisoner, you can keep your heart under lock and key, you can protect it, at least for longer than you can by wearing it on your sleeve, perhaps love finds its way into even the tightest of locked chests, but you can prolong your plight by not letting it fall off your sleeve at the sigh of a smile. And you can make it so that part of your heart always remains your own.
I’m starting to understand why I feel the way that I feel right now. For as long as I can remember I’ve always been one to wear my heart on my sleeve, and I’ve always been someone that loves really hard, I give it my all, and I fight long passed one ideally should, I fight when any other man would have walked away and tended to his wounds. Instead I keep fighting, while the wounds I have become infected with an infatuated and insane inability to just walk away. I fight. That’s what I do, only this time I realised that I just can’t anymore, I just don’t have the capacity to anymore. I have far too many wounds to tend to and now my heart is under lock and key. I’m coming to the realisation that I never want to wear it on my sleeve again and I never want to give it to anyone again, and I probably never will, not all of it anyway.
My heart has belonged to one woman for the past 6 years. She took half of it when she asked me who the hell I was, and I told her I’d be whoever the hell she wanted me to be. And the other half when we were on the phone, long into the early hours of the morning, the night before she was due to leave and start a new life in a whole other continent, she said my name, the way only she says it. Paused for a second, then stuttered “I… I… I…” before saying she loved me and the let out a sigh, and I said it back, and it sounds weird but I heard her smiling, that beautiful, amazing, captivating smile. Moments after which, she cried, and so did I, I remember because that’s the only recollection of happy tears I have, and probably the only recollection I will ever have.
But the thing is those are two pleasant memories among dozens of unpleasant, venomous, stinging ones, and now I feel nothing. I used to miss her voice everyday that I didn’t hear it, I used to think about her every single day and now I don’t, all of those feelings gone just like that, into thin air, and well, it’s not worth it. She should never have had my heart, and I should not have been so foolish to give it so easily. But they say you can’t chose who you fall in love with, or when you fall in love, I guess that’s one of the things I hate about love, but then again it’s what makes love so beautiful. The thing is I just can’t anymore. From her I learnt that it’s possible to keep your heart guarded, to make it harder for love to surprise you and take you prisoner, you can keep your heart under lock and key, you can protect it, at least for longer than you can by wearing it on your sleeve, perhaps love finds its way into even the tightest of locked chests, but you can prolong your plight by not letting it fall off your sleeve at the sigh of a smile. And you can make it so that part of your heart always remains your own.
I haven’t been myself in a few weeks, and I’m struggling now, I’ve lost interest in almost everything I used to care about, that includes tumblr, apologies for my absence. I haven’t been social, most of the time I won’t answer calls or return messages. I keep cancelling on friends, instead I prefer to go out on my own, where no one knows me, act like just another douche, and then sleep it off. Sometimes I won’t even leave bed for days. And other days I like to sit in a cafe for hours on end by myself reading, or just drive around aimlessly.
Worst of all though, I’ve lost aspects of what made me who I am, I used to believe in fate, destiny, and love, now it just seems like fairytale nonsense, it’s all an illusion. A few weeks ago, I went out and walked into a place, and she was there, I just turned around and walked out, it’s nothing but coincidence, she didn’t see me, and hey London isn’t such a big city, being at the same place at the same time means nothing even if it happened three times in one week, the old me might have cared but not anymore.
I used to care about my friends and their problems, I’d sit and listen for hours, let them spill out their hearts, but now I just don’t care, why should I? They’ll only find someone else to listen, and I doubt they give a shit when the tables are turned.
The thing is I used to care about all of those things, I just don’t anymore, I don’t know what changed, I don’t know why or when it happened, it just did, and I can’t find my way back, I don’t know if I even want to go back, I’ve got a few dear friends who check in on me, who are there even though I don’t want to talk, I don’t need to revive my beliefs, I don’t need to believe in love, destiny, or to believe in fate.
Lastly I haven’t had any sort of appetite lately. I just can’t be bothered to eat, it requires getting out of bed, but I just binged on a crap load of chocolate so I guess that balances shit out.
The dye of a flower, it is delicate yet it is what gives the flower it’s beauty. It is what draws and commands the attention of many, for a flower to have its scent noticed it must draw the attention of the eyes that fall upon it.
In a lot of ways we as people are like flowers, and as we grow our personalities become our hues. The thing is though that dye is delicate, and life has a funny way of bleaching out our personalities, and our being, we can fade, we can become washed out. When pressed too hard those colours we hold can transfer, and we lose some of it, through love, through friendship, and family. Sometimes that colour is given willingly, at others it transfers at the breaking of a heart.
I guess that at a young age, soon after we blossom and find ourselves we are at our brightest. But as we grow older the harsh realities of life act as bleach upon us, and we fade. We tire of life and it’s never ending turmoils. But it’s worth remembering that every now and then the sun shines brightly, and we it does, it can rejuvenate that hue our personalities attained, sometimes those hues change as we as people change, and while life can be tiring, relentless and foreboding, there are moments when life can let our personalities radiate with colour.
I’m not sure it’s normal or healthy to think about dying as much as I do. It seems easy, you know, simple and peaceful. When I think about dying I don’t often see an afterlife. I picture it as just life ending. Nothing more, you just cease to be. Mostly because I think if there was a heaven and hell, I’d likely be hellhound.
Often, I wonder how long it would take before the lives of everyone I know would return to normal. If I died today. I think a week or two is all it would take and then I’d be no more than a memory.
I don’t know why I have these thoughts, or why they’re so persistent. Perhaps I’m just an attention seeking worthless piece of shit. More than likely the case. A lot of the time, I think a lot of people would be better off and happier, some even happy to see the last of me. Sometimes I really resent my mother for keeping me when my dad wanted me to be aborted. A lot of the time I wish he’d had is way.
Life is hard. And some are strong enough to make it through, sure they pick up wounds and struggle but they make it through. Then there are others like me who struggle from day 1, and eventually they realise that it’s just not worth it. So they give up. I think I’m about ready to give up. And everyday seems to push me further and further. I know I’m a coward, and I know I’m a lot of things that are far too late to be changed now. Though in starting to feel like one day I will find the courage to put an end to my misery. I feel like this day is getting closer and closer creeping up on me for behind. I don’t want to struggle anymore. I just wish to cease to exist.
A heaving chest, mounted upon another
An epic battle of hearts
Fighting to colonise the other
Each breath pushing at the walls of love
Whilst one barricades the other batters
Hoping to see a heart fall hopelessly
Sometimes they battle outright
It’s a game of control
He breathes in and her chest rises
She breathes out and weight of her love
Makes his heart fall
Every beat and every breathe
Becoming notes in a symphony
Of quickening breathes
And escalating heartbeats
Any suggestions?
Don’t ever want to come back. But I have some really great possibilities waiting. Wish you were here guys.