She sits alone.

She sits alone, and watches the waves slowly roll in one by one. So calm she stares. So tranquil she appears. Her dark hair whips around her face and neck, caught in the warm summer breeze. The seagulls cry, the ocean breathes and sighs. Her feet are sunken in the sand, they do not move. Her fingers caress the lonely rock she’s perched on, while the shade from the tree behind her moves to and fro over her legs and arms.

The sky is free from clouds… but a storm brews. A dark, unlike any other she knows of, rumbles and moves within its cove. It echoes voices and grumbles with slow movement. Movement within her soul. Moving towards something. Around something. Something which burns within her. Something which holds her mind, restrained and bound and gagged and tortured by its presence. The presence of a dark secret. A dark memory which plagues her every day. So still she sits so pretty. So busy in her suffering. So busy in her silence.

Alone on a desolate rock, she watches the sea. She watches the sky. But she doesn’t see. She only senses the memory. She only hears the sounds, smells the airs, and tastes the bitterness of that time. A time lived long ago, but deeply embedded within her now. Her present, which remains tightly leashed by a past unforgiving.

Her brown green eyes blink and stare. The voices turn within her.

“Calm down… I didn’t have a choice… I know… I know… I’m sorry…”

A boats horn sounds in the distance. Her ears fail to hear. The sun shines brightly all around. Her eyes fail to see. They’re all preoccupied.

“Help me please… it hurts… please…someone!”

A small crab scurries across the sand and buries itself in its tiny hideaway. A little girl screams with glee while playing in the surf. All the while, she sits undisturbed.

The storm rages its war within her. It brews, never raining. It twists and darkens the less she speaks and the more she thinks. It mutates and sparks and turns up the light to consume it. Consume it amongst the rubble. Amongst the shrapnel. Within the currents of her strong and damaging emotions, all daunting. All haunting her very existence.

Her hands run up and down the warm rock, feeling its smooth curves. Those hands, stained red in her mind, she cannot look at them. She cannot look at herself.Forever more she shall be punished. Forever more she shall be beaten by her past memories which loom over her like the storm looms over her world. A world so exotic, filled with nature and wonder and beauty and laughter. But forever tainted. Corrupted. Damaged. Mauled. Amputated. Her world, filled with so much awe, is left broken and limping towards the end of its every day.

She sits alone and watches the waves. She sits alone and waits for her reprieve. For time to ease the storm and roll the clouds away. She bears the memories, until time can wash them further away into the depths.

She sits alone and waits for the waves within her world to pull the stones of her life to where they belong. To the depths of her subconscious. To a place in her mind she never has to visit again.

She sits alone. She watches the waves. She waits for time to heal.

…and she said…

…with a broken heart… be still young daffodil. Float high above the storm, fly free. Rest your heart and rest your head. Be still… be calm… no tears, no qualm. Above the storm. Beyond the rain. Away from the clouds. Find peace. And there among the rustling trees and sunny beams, walk free in your own skin. Be you again. Smile. Rest. Breath. Dream. Laugh. Enjoy. Its the sum of the storm, hurling hail and rain and lightning, which tests our very nerves. But remember dear heart. Dear love. Dear life of mine. Every storm will end. And with that will be another peace after another journey, which lead to more wisdom, more strength, and above all, more proof of just how determined you are. You fought. You lost some. You won some. Now ease down, rest up and calm the soul. Its over now. Dearest daffodil of me… be free. No more tension. No more anger. Forget resentment. Lay down the sword. Give up the shield.

I give my weapons and my defense. It is over. And now a new beginning awaits. So please dearest mind. Heart. Body. And Soul. Be still! Float above all that was to see what is.

Fly free dearest me. Fly free.

Universal Shit

The Universe likes to shit on me when I find something nice. The Universe likes to shit on me and my nice things so that I never actually have nice things, and when I do have nice things, the Universe likes to shit on them so that I dont have nice things for very long.
While househunting I have been to 20 places.I have been going every day and every weekend for a month and nearly 1 week. I have been to shit-heaps. I have been to mansions. I have not found my abode. I have not found my sanctuary. But through the cold. Through the SHIT. Through the dinner breaks. Through the rain. Through the night. Through the day. Through days with no sleep. Through nights with noise and no reprieve. Through all the trauma of looking and phoning and e-mailing and viewing and talking and declining and thinking, I have searched and searched and searched. Harder than a lot of other people would have searched. So when I finally came across a pretty little place with everything I needed and wanted my heart sang. My being rejoiced. My soul released a surge of happiness no words could ever sum up. I cried. I laughed. I jumped. I danced. I waved my hands around and said “well done Debz… perseverance! Determination! Accepting no substitutes. Has paid off. Well done. You’ve done it!” And I declined the rest. And I sent the e-mails. And I set about finalising what seemed to be the perfect deal. 3 days before I definitely had to move on, I found my little home. Somewhere to rest my weary soul and finally start living the life I want to live again. So it was with an unfounded and unfelt feeling, that I read an e-mail on a night shift alone and working, with no time left to house hunt more. It said…

“Hi Debbie

I have had an email from Natalie saying that she has a friend that has also seen the room and is keen to move in. We tend to give the tenants first refusal on rooms so Im afraid that she will be taking on the room.

Good luck with finding somewhere

All the best

Laura”

Now let me explain where the notion of “The Universe likes to shit on me…” comes in. On a lonely cold night I went to the house on the street in the nice part of town. I saw the room. I took it in. I said hello to the girl. And her friend. They were eating Thai. She was just visiting for a bit. Nothing more. She just happened to be seeing her friend who just happened to be showing me a little room in a little fucking house for a little fucking lady who is just looking for a little fucking home to rest her weary fucking life and her tired fucking soul. I went up. Her friend stayed down. I looked again. I met the girls. They were nice. I had a chat. I laughed. We laughed. And Natalie said “wow I’ve never been in her room before. We never come up here”. Perfect. Privacy. Space. Quiet. Friendliness. Homeliness. I said goodbye to the stupid little friend with her stupid little grin and her stupid little iphone and her stupid Thai. I said goodbye even though she didn’t give a fuck and they really couldn’t be fucked but I was polite anyway because fuck I’m cold and tired and weary and drained and fucking fed up but I smack a little smile on my fucking tired face and I say goodbye. Keep well. Have a great dinner. Bye bye. Yes. I think I found my home I say. I think I want this one. I think  this could work oh my god I think I found my little home in a country where I have no fucking home here it is thank god I’ve finally found my little piece of calm and everything. IN COMES THE UNIVERSE SHITTING ON ME. In the process of getting to work. Sending the e-mail showing my interest. Saying YES I WANT YOUR ROOM I HAVE THE MONEY LETS DO THIS. Money I have saved since being a runner. Money I have saved for a camera. Money that isn’t just there but there because I’ve been saving a little bit for a long time for nice things and finally decided to use it for a place instead because its worth it. In the process of walking down the fucking road away from the fucking home. This friend who just happened to be visiting THAT night. This friend who has family here. Who has a fucking home somewhere fucking else. This person who does not NEED it. Does not CARE for it. DOESNT really mind it. Decides. You know fucking what. You have a room available and oooooooh it sounds pretty. Let me fucking have a fucking look while I just happen to be here eating my fucking Thai and playing on my fucking iphone. Let me just see…. And off the girl with nothing better to do goes trotting up the fucking stairs to look at the pretty room. And there I walk. Tired. Cold. Beaten by all the shit from the past month or 2 or 10 or actually how fucking many are there in 3 years again!? While I’m sitting at the station thinking I may have finally found a mother fucking home, she twinkles up the pretty stairs in her twinkly little expensive shoes and her freshly cut immaculate hair and prettiness and opens the fucking door. And she says geeeeee this is a pretty room. I like this room. I’m not moving. I haven’t handed in my notice with my current landlord. I haven’t even been thinking about moving. I haven’t even been looking to move. But she looks around. And she twinkles and sparkles and shines and smiles and says “you know what…. I really like this room”. And in the course of an evening sets the plans in motion to move into the pretty little room in the pretty little house on the pretty little street in the pretty little town. So I get an e-mail. And I sit in a room at 1am alone and weary and tired and all of a sudden I must now deal with disappointment and sadness and fear and worry and stress and humiliation and unease and then anger and resentment. All of this and more rolled up into a 1 minute reading of a mother fucking e-mail. The e-mail. Saying the one you wanted. The only 1 out of 20 that you wanted. You CANNOT have. Because twinkly wants it. Because little lamb ran up the little stairs in a moment only defined as fate. I guess fate. In all its glory. Works both ways. As much as it works for me sometimes. It works for others. Funny how lately I could swear its working for others… a lot more than its working for me.
And I look at this and I think how do I not get resentful? How do I not look at this and think fuck you universe. Fuck you, you assholes! Fuck you life. Fuck you everyone and everything! How do I not get resentful?! Because I am! How do I convince myself, like I always used to, that everything happens for a reason? How do I accept this? Again. Another slap. Another kick. Another pile of shit on me and my idea of happiness from the mother fucking universe. How do I not cry and throw things? How do I sleep now? How do I slap that smile on my face and say hi! And be polite. And be happy go lucky like I always used to be when I’m being shat on.

So I work my shift in sadness and emotion only partly described above. And I lick my wounds and I go over and over again in my head what other places I saw and where else I could go since I only have 2 days!!!!!! And I pace and walk and work and try concentrate and laugh at some odd joke and pace and walk and think and look and start another search and cry and think and shout and work and talk and e-mail and try and try and try not to cry again.

And then I handover to someone who moans and is angry and I take the time to listen and he doesn’t ask how I am but I ask how he is and he tells me he’s angry and I try to be nice. And then I leave and I walk home. And I look at the ground. And I feel completely kicked up the arse and I get home to open my laptop to begin another search because I cant sleep now and I still have to go shopping and then I have to find a home and I have to see more places and I have to think about what the fuck I’m going to do. I sit to read my e-mails. And the UNIVERSE decides to take one last stab. Stupid twinkly iphone friend has e-mailed me. And she says…

“Hi Debbie,

I met you last night at Nat’s house in Southfields? I got your email from Laura.

The reason I am emailing you is a bit of an odd one, I was checking Laura’s room out as well last night as well, is all a bit of a last minute thing to be honest but Im going to move in. HOWEVER, I do have my room which I am trying to find someone for.

Its a huge double room in Clapham South/Balham. It is living with a 8 other people but is such a big place that you barely notice and the room is so big you can always chill. Its £110 a week + bills.

Let me know if you would be interested Just a thought…

So sorry that I took the room, I know you liked it, sorry

Candice”

Now I can try to be calm and nice about it and think well here’s an opportunity. But all I want to do is e-mail this fucking little twinkly clueless lamb and tell her how much of an asshole I think she is. “So sorry…”. Does she know what I’ve been through? Does she know??????? “bit of a last minute thing to be honest”. Fuck you! Fuck you! Fuck Nats! Fuck Laura! Fuck you universe. Fuck you fate! Fuck you everyone. And fuck you everything.
I have turned. I am resentful! I am angry. I am not looking at this saying, well I could live there. 8 people?  Go fuck yourself uncomfortably!!!! NO! I want that one!!! I WANT THE ONE IN THE PRETTY HOUSE ON THE PRETTY STREET IN THE PRETTY TOWN!!!! NO says the Universe!!!! NO YOU CANT HAVE THE ONE YOU WANT!!! And shits all over my dream!!!!!!!! SHIT. SHIT. SHIT. All over my fucking head.

The end. Thats it. No happy ending. Just another day of being pissed off and stressed and tired. Of walking up the stairs to my place that echo’s every noise around it. With a noisy housemate crashing about. Just another day of being worried. Of wanting more but not finding it. Of hoping and then losing hope. Day by day I grow darker. Angrier. Sadder. I’m losing my shine. My glimmer. My sparkle. My hope. My positivity. My smiles are running low. Thin. Empty. Everyone has more than me. I have less than everyone. My whole life is crashing around me and what the fuck have a got to show for 3 years of pursuing the life I want to live?  I’ve lost faith. I’ve lost trust. And now I’ve lost happiness I thought could be mine! WHY!? To learn valuable life lessons! Fuck off!!!! FUCK YOU and FUCK OFF!!!

The universe is working hard at this. It worked very hard at making it all turn out the way it has. So where do I go? What do I do? Apparently things have a way of somehow working out. At this moment I don’t fucking think so. I’ve crossed over into negative land. Into darkness. I am angry. I am resentful. I am over this. I am at the end of the mother fucking line. And I don’t see another one. So what do I do? Lift myself up? I think for the moment I’m just going to sleep. Because all I can really do is take it one little moment at a time. Sleep and then I’ll see when I wake up. That’s all I can do. Slowly but surely the Universe is stripping me bare again. I thought I had done this? Been down this road? But NO. I must be stripped bare AGAIN. I must lose my favourite jewellery. Lose my hats. Lose my money. Lose my house. Lose my fairytale home. Lose my tears. Lose my faith. Lose my hope. Lose my dreams. Lose my positivity. Lose my words onto this page while I sit on my bed surrounded by noise wishing for more but having to settle for less. Lose everything again so that I can learn. And grow. And change. And develop. And be all something I’m meant to be. Apparently the universe throws the shit at me because it knows I can take it. And it’s testing just how much I can handle. It’s pushing. It’s pushing me over the edge. I’m lost. I’m sad. I’m tired. I’m in Limbo. Is this the limit? Or is there more? Am I in store for a whole lot more? Where do I go from here? To bed I think. To sleep!

Change

After every shit storm brought about by change and the chaos that comes with it, lies a lesson learnt. Lies a new perspective. Lies personal growth and a new way of living and dealing with living. Every change, even the really hard and horrible ones, results in some kind of gain. I have gained strength. I have gained determination. I have gained motivation. I have gained confidence. I have gained knowledge. I have gained wisdom. I have gained skills. I have gained many many headaches, but through that learnt the best way to overcome them. Through change I have met some of my best friends.

Through change I have gained so much more than lost. I have lost some sanity. Some tears. Some trust. Some openness. But what I have gained from all this change over all these years, completely outweighs what has been lost. Losing some things has even been necessary for me to be moulded into the person I have become and am yet to become. Change is necessary for us to grow. To better ourselves. To improve on previous mistakes and faults. To learn the hard lessons of life so that the next time change happens, we’re able to handle it better. We’re able to make more informed decisions. Because change, no matter how much we hate it, is bound to happen again and again and again. The world is in flux. Constantly things are changing. Developing. Moving. Ageing. So we might as well embrace it, run with it, invite it instead of dreading it. It may just prove to be exactly what was needed even if it didn’t seem needed at all.

Life has a funny way of throwing change into the works at the most unexpected times. Or we lay the foundations for change and hope and pray that the resulting chaos will be an easy one to deal with. Every day we wake up we are changed because the day before we learnt something new. Change is inevitable. It’s there, waiting to jump in and throw a new spin on life. It forces us, every now and again if we don’t choose to live it this way all the time, to live life a bit more off the beaten track. It’s what makes us jump at new chances because it creates them. Without change we wouldn’t have half the opportunities out there. Without change I wouldn’t have had half the opportunities I’ve had.

So I welcome you change. You’re a complete bitch, but I know that after all this chaos you’re throwing at me at full force, lies a new life. A changed existence with more gained. More knowledge. More opportunites. More friends. And for that, I forgive you for making me suffer. For making me lose a few marbles, a whack load of trust and a lot of openness. I forgive you because I trust now, after going through so much change, that at the end of this long and hectic road of fucking madness, I’m going to be glad I did this. I’m going to gain so much more, I’ll forget all about what I lost. What’s even better is that sometimes new change can even make us gain what was lost due to past change. Cautiously yes. Slowly most definitely. But its not permanent loss. Just loss we needed at the time of change to learn and grow and develop into the people we have become.

Life’s just a funny changing tide full of lessons. How we deal with that change and those lessons will lead to who we become next. It’s all a bit uncontrollable. Unexpected. Anyone bored in life should create some change. It’s good for you. It’s needed. Without change, I would not be here. I would not be doing what I’m doing. I would not be who I am. So fuck no change. I’m welcoming you in, you hard difficult to bear complete and utter bitch! Bring it the fuck on. I encourage you. I even thank you and I ask, please, come again!

Change is good. Change is living. Change is the moment you wake up sad, but then later on, the moment you wake up even happier than before.

Live your Dreams!

Pursuing dreams is hard. But who wants to live the easy life when that’s hard too? Everyone is worth living their dreams. Because your life. This life. THE life. Should be lived doing all you WANT to be doing. So fuck it. Be courageous. Throw your fears aside. Grab life by the balls. And go for it!

You slashed my wrists with your words.

You slashed my wrists with your words.
You bled me and then fed it to me.
That’s how hard your words were to swallow.
You’re so hollow.
So covered in your own shit you forget to be human.
So busy acting Pig Mr Nothing.
Mr no-one.
Mr “I have no fucking clue about you”.
Mr “I’m the fucking genius Pig who fucks myself every day!”
You’re crying. Stop crying. Stop acting like your heart actually works.
Ah yes… tears of laughter then. You really have issues Mr Less than everyone even a 1 legged rat!

You poured acid from your tongue into my ears!
Those crystal words will never disappear.
I pierced some quills into my brain
I bashed it in to make it drain.
But alas your words continue…
… to sting and ring and ping and sing.

So you think you know me
Mr “fucking useless to mankind”.
When did your mother disown you?
Surely straight after the failed abortion!

Aaah… a straighter face.
So unattractive.
So desperate…
…for me to take it back.

Your words sliced my skin.
And left me thin.
And left me clutching the empty bottle in remorse.

For months I cried and died inside.
And now look.
I’m cold.
I don’t feel.
For feeling hurts.
I don’t care.
Is this why you are the way you dare…
… to bare…
… another’s weaknesses to the rest of this misunderstanding world?

Were you once the subject?
Were you once the feeling feeler.
Hurt by another?
Crippled and disabled by unnecessary daggers from another’s filthy mouth?

Aah… some real emotion in your eyes.
But I still feel so much despise.
All because of your lies.
All because of your rise…
… to the lowest level of your life.

A tear ?
Do I hear
A slight fear?
In the sniffing, in the shuffling, in the mumbling.

You’re sorry?

You’re sorry?

You should be.

Did I offend you?

Did I offend you?

Is that why you looked at me so harshly when I walked into the room?

I was in a good mood.

I felt good about what I was wearing and how I had done my hair.

My make up took extra time, but once done, I thought it was worth it.

And then your faces emerged when I arrived.

You, a collective of sorts.

You looked at me so blankly.

First my face. Then my top, my jeans, my new high heel shoes.

Back up again your eyes trailed so cold.

All along I watched you.

All along you didn’t care I knew.

My body tensed.

I shuffled and looked down.

Obviously something must be wrong.

My confidence waned.

I stumbled.

All the while you still looked.

“What?” I screamed in my mind.

“What’s wrong? What the hell are you looking at?”

I felt worried.

I felt nervous.

I felt insecure.

I felt giddy.

I felt nauseous.

I felt ten vodkas slip down my throat because of you.

All of you.

These weren’t looks of admiration.

These weren’t looks of acknowledgement.

These weren’t looks of kindness.

These were looks of scorn.

Of distaste.

Of humiliation.

Of resentment.

Of hatred.

Of years of living in a tiny bubble of contempt.

“How sad!” I screamed, pissed and confused.

Every time I looked up someone was looking or looked away.

Some stranger glaring my skin blue.

Snearing my face red.

Glaring my hair messy.

Until finally I crumbled and stumbled and grumbled and mumbled and made them all feel better about themselves so they could stop staring and look somewhere else.

I arrived so calm and confident.

I left a drunken mess.

Confused.

Afraid.

Bewildered.

Caught!

In their narrow minded insecure fuss!

At Ease Soldier.

That was the saddest moment!

He lay there, dull breaths hitting my heart. His nose rose in the air, not as proud and strong as before. Just a desolate mountain on a plunging grey valley.

His body was small. Thin. Bony. This man I used to kiss hello. This man I used to see in full browns and sternness… lay wasting away on a bed in a house in a small town on the edge of a page that nobody read. His final chapter was playing out before us, like the end of a storm that nobody noticed because they were all inside remembering the beginning.

Was he alive? Could he see us? Could he tell who we were?

Words fail describing the moment he could.

Wild eyes looked back and forth, shocked and surprised and happy yet sad.

My heart bled up into my eyes and covered my cheeks. I could not hold back.

His eyes told me he knew… but couldn’t believe we had grown so much.

He couldn’t speak. I couldn’t speak. Different reasons, same curse. I said goodbye through the tears I cried. He said goodbye through the look in his eyes.

We left him alone that day to remember us for the rest of his life. A mere few days and he was gone. That man so strong.

Weakened by life’s traumas. Weakened by a past unresolved. A life only half lived in the present. He was destroyed long before his death. Pity that, as his eyes said he could have been better. They were glowing with a depth none of us knew. And if we did, would perhaps never have understood. That day… seeing him there… alone, in pain, sad and weak… surrounded by strangers. That was his end. Him, alone at last… with no choice but to wait impatiently for the white flag to finally be flown.

Sorry!

I hurt someone. He remembers every day.

I hurt his feelings and now I must pay.

It haunts me! I cannot forget.

Something so small… filled with so much regret!

How do I say sorry without seeming too weak?

How do I say sorry… when should I speak?

I feel his sadness!

This is madness!

Can we not all just be friends?

Woe is me!

I cannot be.

The heartless bitch

the uncaring witch.

I’m sorry!

Now please malicious thoughts and worry…

…be still…

Dream a little Dream

Dream a little Dream

I sit inside an untainted thought. The world moves around me. I watch, without seeing, and dream of all unreal. Thoughts jump and flinch from moment to moment; my mind wanders the planes of its vast imagination. All gold and sparkling silver. All warmth and love and adventure. Reality passes unnoticed. I have better things to attend to.

Here I reside right now, wafting in and out of so many untouched lands. They remain unburdened here by mankind’s unkind hand. Here the rolling hills and rippling brooks remain unspoiled. Excitement rules while I mingle with so many different characters, both good and bad. Time remains unfixed… moves backwards and forwards at my command. Anything can be done, redone, undone… while everything twists and folds and merges and changes on every breath… on every new wave of thought.

A siren blares. People around me speak selfish words and insincere falseness. The world carries on as normal while I choose not to live in it. At least not for this moment. As I stare and smile while life of a different kind plays vividly in my mind. I could do this forever. Just daydream. And laugh inside my mind and smile outside.

All senses come alive. Every touch sparks a new train of thought, every smell a new idea. The mind is alive and hungry. All time melts away into its’ perhaps more suited place of irrelevance. I dream and the world seems brighter. I think and the bad seems better.

A clock ticks. A voice, distant, calls my way. I wake to this. A bill. A stern impatient face. False laughter at another table. A strange smell.

I pay, I leave, I walk, I return to this world. This place we call reality. Or at least, this reality as I know it. And I carry on in the comfort that when alone again, I can escape to that other place. My other reality. And dream once more of the sweetness, the enjoyment and the excitement of my other lives waiting for me in my other parallel state of being.