Muscle memory

Do we need to touch for you to remember me?
as if in our embrace our cells remember each other,
To separate has always been agony
it is as if my skin forgets where it starts and finishes,
We fluidly melt into eachother
Like fusing glass
flowing, easing into one

I knew when I drew distance
And in the moment I failed to embrace you
I was looking at the end
Did you think I finalised a goodbye?
In the time spent apart have you replaced me?
Do you no longer long for me?
There is no muscle memory
Our bodies are existing independently,
Give me a chance to remind you.

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Filling spaces

Maybe it is in writing about you that I have come to lose you.
I filled the growing distance between us with words
I wasn’t brave enough to say to your face.

You are no longer a form I can hold
all I have left is words between lines,
a book on a shelf,
I’d leave this world to be the oak you now rest on.
If only to feel you on me,
To be close.

All the questions

I have discovered that once you ask yourself the hard questions, then life gets just a little bit…Harder. Yes. There is a reason you avoided the questions that suck and allow the anxiety to engulf you like salty water waves. It’s not all bad though. After the crying, sitting in a corner rocking back and forth and the appointment to the doctor for anxiety medication, that you will cancel the day off. It all starts to get clearer. Yes, I didn’t say easier. When you are dealing with anxiety, things don’t get “easier” they just stop being so hard. I know that sounds stupid but to say it gets easier, feels like saying it stops being an issue and it becomes effortless. And perhaps somethings do. But some things don’t and measuring things as hard or easy, feels like I’m am setting myself up for a failure. So, I say it gets less hard. And one day, it doesn’t feature as an issue at all (fingers crossed). But you have to ask the question. The question of what you really want to do with your life. No, not that panic of “what I am I doing with my life” that comes with tearful bouts of panic attacks when you run into an old friend or in the middle of the night. No, the question where you are forced to be honest. Do I even what this job? Is he really the one? Do I even want to move the other side of the country? What do I want to achieve?
My anxiety has had me living in what-ifs my whole life. But not just worse case what ifs. But the ones that come with regrets and comparisons and probably involved an evening of FB stalking or worse Instagram. The “what if I took that job”. The “what if I wasn’t afraid to talk to him”, or” what if I didn’t spend the month hiding at home and instead went travelling overseas teaching English”. That “what if my life could have been big and brighter”. But see the thing with the anxious mind and this exercise, is I get so caught up in this imaginary possible person I could have been or that I’m might be standing in the way of becoming. But do I even want to teach English? Was he even my type or just a pretty face? And often the answer is no. So, I’m exhausting myself on things I actually wouldn’t care about if not for my compulsive thinking. But on the flip side. If the answer is yes. Then I can work on a next step to achieve that. If I did want to teach English, then what aspect of myself or my anxiety is in my way? How am I going to get over that? And even if it takes two years, at least I have an honest clear direction and I can get help in achieving it. In breaking it down into doable functioning pieces.
I am by no means good at any of this yet. I still get stuck at the questions. But I’m starting to ask them and get through the preceding panic. And that is something. It’s a full mile further than I was before. And some days I backtrack to thoughts of what if. I know I don’t care about my high school crush and am clear on how incompatible we would have been, lol. But in moments of depressive nights or anxious moments, in my single-failed-at-loves-state, I think, “no one would ever love me as much as he could have loved me if only I was braver and cooler and less weird and emo”. Which feels like a really true observation, and at the same time is greatly inaccurate. (yikes I hope). It’s truly unproductive.
So, I am challenging myself to try and ask myself the hard questions and get brave enough to face the answer. For now, the brave question involves what I want to do with my career. Or at least how am I going to get paid. If that’s not anxiety causing I don’t know what is. One thing is for sure, I’m going to need to go back to therapy in order to face. eish.

Take the lead

Could you please be braver than me?
I have been fighting wars since I was carved out my mothers womb,
my skin is stained by the sun
my blood is mixed like the clashing waves of the two oceans
my existence was a little challenged,
I have grown weak to young
you were always stronger than me,
I am going to need a moment to catch up,

Could you be more courageous than me?
when I built these walls
the world around me gave cause to seek shelter from monsters I feared
but somehow I managed to cage them in with me,
I have been breaking bricks looking for a way out
but I am going to need some help,
my hands are cut and I am afraid of what awaits me on the other side,

Could you please be stronger than me?
my heart was hidden too deep too quick,
it is green,
it is soft.
it has not learned to love or allowed to break,
your heart has been beating through my chest like drums-signals calling me
I have been trying to follow but I fear I might be tone deaf,
maybe this time around you could come find me,

Could you please be louder than me?
your voice can drown out all the noises that shake me
your voice has always been a calming force in me,
I have been losing mine
I lack the ability to speak clearly
perhaps you could be the first to call this love,

Could you please be the one to start this?
we have waited too long
the stars have always been on our side
the seas have always given us the way,
it is me who threw gas on the flame that kept our bridge burning
but we remained connected in the sky
we were always ready
time is on our side
-but I don’t know how to start this

Could you please be the one to hold me,
I could be the one who won’t let go.

My love is magic

I have been waiting for my pen to turn into a wand
waving it across these pages
my ink like a trail of magic
tears of joy hitting the page like stardust,
I’ve been searching the dictionary for rhymes and words.

Am I a child to believe that pointing it between these lines would bring you close to me?
that my love holds enough magic to make my words into spells that would draw you back to me?

I’ve have been begging the moon to read you my letters,
I say “tell him to fetch my heart ”
“tell him I’ve been dreaming of him”
I’ve been folding these pages of failed words into ships
hoping the rivers formed by my tears would give them passage to you.

I’ve been missing you. I’ve grown tired of running
So, I am making this pen into a wand
I’m writing my love into spells  in these lines
My love is magic. I am calling you back to me.

If needs be

A theoretical beauty of destruction,
The romancing of the Pheonix,
The ashes paint you beautiful images of snow,
I am nothing to be broken or conquered
Like a block of clay waiting to be carved by your hands shaped by your dreams,

I can wait for you
But I will not be made by you
have you to chip away at me till I’m weak enough to need you,
Love was never ownership
Was I never enough?

But now, I am a field of poppies emerging on the battlefield
Like wildflowers, I grow and follow the sun with no map
Love is freedom
if needs be: I can leave and regrow without you

Perhaps we’re knights

Perhaps it just had to happen this way. The rain. The clouds. The wind hitting against the windows at 2am. As you waited for sleep to fall. Life surprises us sometimes. All that darkness that falls and then suddenly there is the speck of light.

Of course, no one ever sees the darkness or the cartoon cloud that hangs above your head. The misery you apparently caused yourself for so long. It is unseen. You have remained misunderstood. While everyone lived life around you.

 It’s not that anyone was at fault. You can’t blame someone for not reacting to something they can’t see. And you can’t blame yourself for not being able to see that they don’t see what you see. After all, you were too busy spending nights squeezing the rain out your hair. Buckets around you that you couldn’t explain, that the tears kept filling.

Of cause, you held tight to your pain. You tried to convince yourself you weren’t crazy. You ripped your mind out with steak knives at the dinner table to show them:” look! My mind is failing.” You rattled your chest in their ears when the room was silent hoping they would hear the pieces whisper: ”put me back together”.

And you waited for them. The friends. The family. The men who believed they could love you, that they could stay. They couldn’t see the things you saw. The tears you cried. They didn’t wake up to the roaring waves in your mind at night. So, you left them. Or they left you. As you tried to manage your crazy while trying to convince the world of your pain.

And somehow. Someway. You got yourself through it. Through the long nights. The cold days. The days you wondered why you had to even breath.

After all of it. Perhaps it just had to happen this way. That the light would expand, and you would come through it tougher but alone.  So, you can see how beautiful it all made you. How it helps to know you can hold your breath for years and survive it. That they can turn around and not love you and you can survive it. That they may never see the world through your eyes. But you can survive it.

Perhaps when you were a child and prayed to God: “please make me so strong, that I can fight monsters in castles. Why can’t girls be  knights?”, he answered you’re prayers by showing you all the monsters in your head. Gave you a sword and let you fight them yourself. As the sky whispered: “show them how brave you are “.

Perhaps it just had to happen this way. So, you can learn how beautiful it is to rise above it all.