I thought I was going crazy. Then I realised I’m going through that phase where my brain is developing so much and so quickly that I don’t understand anything or myself. Figuring myself out is hard, painful and emotionally taxing. I’m constantly frustrated because all I can say to anything is “I don’t know” and everyone is asking me if I’m okay and I. Don’t. Know. I feel like I’ve wasted time, but there’s still so much time ahead. I think so much I feel like I’m suffocating myself with my own thoughts.
Is it possible to be too self-aware?
What if they’re right?
What if they’re wrong?
How did I not see all these things before?
Am I seeing them too late?
Am I giving this person I’m dating the best years of my life for nothing? Is this something?
Would I still love this decision in two years?
What happens if I have to move back home?
Did I work twice as hard to be half as good? Or did I work half as good to be twice as bad?
What if I don’t make it?
What if I do?
But the truth remains: everyday is a good day to not be in high school.
I can’t love you
and love myself at the same time.
I can’t nail myself to the dreams you wove for me.
I can’t keep waking up to the suffocating truth that
you never loved us enough to stay.
But I can keep moving on.
I can love me enough to bring the moon and sun together.
I will want me enough to walk away
from every broken day when the only face I see is yours.
Our energies collided and birthed a universe lit by the sparks that flew between us.
The young girl you laid eyes on became a woman worth loving.
She wants to live unapologetically,
with passion that fires her soul.
Her misaligned chakras falling into place as she stumbles closer to nirvana.
She loves when night falls,
missing every call from her mind to her heart.
To her, it’s all background noise.
In debt with life, she sees no way out.
She wants to climb the highest mountains;
catch her breath as she admires the view of her journey to the edge.
Her problems now seem so small, the irony is that they’ve swallowed her whole.
With her last step forward, she releases her fears.
Who knew cloud surfering would be her calling?
No, she’s not waiting for you to catch her.
No, she not waiting for you to need her.
She’ll never forget you.
In fact, she left you a message amongst the dead flowers on her empty grave:
Please,love me later.
Love me when I’m ready.
Love me when I’m me again.
There is no greater fear than the fear of becoming your mother –
until you understand the effervescence she bestows.
If I have a daughter,I will fight unapologetically for her to see better days.
I’d want her to know that the spaces between her fingers aren’t a void in need of being filled by another,but are simply spaces for her to remember that she can hold her own hand when days are too dreary to bear.
I would love her into a compassionate woman.
I would let her know that her naïveté is what I admire most about her,
because I too want to stand in the rain without a cloud of runny noses looming over my head.
I will throw all judgment out the window,
hug her when she cries,
love her when she scrapes her knee against the harshness of life.
If I have a daughter,I will fight for her – but I’ll also remind her to keep going no matter how much it hurts.
I will teach her the life lessons my mother taught me when she didn’t know I was looking.
If I become a mother,I hope to be kissed by the strength you have.
Tattoo your perseverance across my spirit.
If I become a mother,I will still remember that I too am a daughter who loves her mother irrevocably and unapologetically.
Because even when the world throws rocks at me,I know my beautiful mother will stitch my wounds with courage,and dress them with strength.
When I become a mother, I hope to mirror your efflorescent soul.
Happy Mother’s Day mommers 💐
As the network bars deplete,
my problems become obsolete.
The blistering heat breathes life into cracked feet weighed down by unspoken dreams.
Who did I promise myself I’d become?
The answers are intertwined with my essence,although the map is buried in the heart of serenity.
The new question remains: am I searching for the soul that I once hoped to become,or the soul I need to become?
As the sun rises,
As the wind whispers about its sweet crisp love affair,
My spirit grows strong with arms wide open
waiting for the moon’s goodnight kiss.
The kiss that harmonises the earth’s vibrations with the rhythm of my heart.
Rustling greenery greets a new day to love and live again.
Where Sun dances along the horizon
and Moon chases the effervescent souls across the sky;
the crackling of the fire screams freedom,
and sings the songs of emancipation.
From the ashes that used to glow brightly,
rose the soul that will forever burn unapologetically.
“It’s not that I’m racist or anything but…”
One of many favourite lines he’s always spitting out.
We called them ‘weekly venting sessions’. Just to keep some kind of emotional and mental control. The relief of just singing the songs of your anger (I go with ‘frustration’) really help you see the funny side of things,except when you start seeing the world through the eyes of my flatmate.
For someone who claims he’s not racist,he definitely has some issues with – what’s the politically correct way of phrasing this? Would I still look bad if I just quoted him? Hmm,I’ll just let you paint your own picture.
He has this embedded animosity to anyone who had a better upbringing than he did. I get it,some circumstances are pretty shit but I don’t go around hating people who haven’t failed at life,even if they got help from financially advantaged parents. What’s the point in reducing the level of their achievements? I’ll tell you what he thinks: they’re just over-privileged,pretentious and don’t understand the value of hard work.
Here’s my argument:
1. No one asked you
2. Uhm,everyone has their own struggles
3. I genuinely feel like you aren’t any better
Then I started to notice a pattern with all the people he hated. They all had their shit together and he’s still single.
But no,”they can all go and hang”.
When leases come to an end,you find yourself in panic mode ’cause you don’t know where the fuck you’ll live next. I thought I got lucky when I stumbled upon my dream apartment in one of the most beautiful areas in Cape Town. It’s a damn shame they failed to mention it came with an individual I can barely describe as human. Humans have emotions,he barely even has a brain.
1. Whaaaaat you’re a guy?
2. Are you actually posh or did you exit the womb this pretentious?
3. A part of me feels like you have a ‘punch me’ face,but I could be wrong.
So stupid me,I sign the lease because why give up luxury and comfort over someone who’s energy you just can’t read? ‘CAUSE YOU’LL LIVE TO REGRET IT that’s why.
The first week was great. We started our own vegetable patch,cooked healthy GMO free dinners. Shared some rants about the world here and there. I sold myself the dream that maybe,maybe I’ve found someone I can co-exist with.
Then the dishes started piling up.
His laundry was all over the couches.
He started walking heavily,waking me up with his loud obnoxious footsteps at 02:00am.
Any conversation we had revolved around him.
The best part: he genuinely thinks he’s the greatest person who’s ever walked the earth.
My mind bleeds all the thoughts I wish I could say.
My fingers numb, my throat closing up.
How do I save myself in time?
Do I just breathe?
Breathe all my thoughts to infinity and back before my time,
release it all into the universe.
My fingers twitch and reach for the pen.
The ink seeps into the paper as I scribe each feeling, breath, stress, anxiety letter by letter.
These words make no sense,
they are the drops of blood that fell from my head and trickled down my cheek.
My head feels light from the loss of so much blood.
I am drifting away, falling into a realm of peace.
My eyes close and I catch my last breath
my airways have finally opened.
I can breathe.
I can sleep.