You Are More Than You Think

One of the things I always see in those I love is their inability to see how truly wonderful they are. It’s as if they’re too busy belittling their value to notice all the good they’ve done, are doing and will do. I’m dedicating this piece to two of my friends – two girls who got me through many a rough time. Two of my best friends who don’t know just how much I love them.

Never in my life have I seen such a great feat of injustice than the way the world treats her. After all she’s given to those around her, she struggles to break even. As time dwindles on, her life is slowly depleting, with every act of kindness draining her of her own compassion and love. She was immune to it herself – having sacrificed so much for so long, she forgot what it was like to receive happiness. To be cared about. She began to believe that she never mattered or that she was the common factor of disappointment. I would stand outside with flowers through hurricane and blizzard if it meant that she would believe again. Believe me that she is worth it. Believe me that she worthy of love: to love and be loved. Believe in me. Believe in herself.
There is no one who can hold a candle to her selflessness. Never have I seen someone sacrifice the better part of themselves for someone else expecting, anticipating, nothing at all in return. I feel as though I have become her loan shark, her tax collector – filled with a bloodlust to bleed those who wronged her dry. An assassin of sorts perhaps. Maybe a thief- but only to steal the love that they stole.
Before long, she began to crack and become brittle after being spread so thin. Many moons later I still pray that I’m not too late to mend the pieces of shattered hopes and dreams back together, or at least some semblance of a brighter future.
She is incredible. She deserves more than the world can offer. She deserves more than my rusted frail heart and defective spine. But I’ll be the best I can be for her – always – or at least as long as she needs me. The world spins in says that prove fairness is but a concept. Nothing is truly fair. We have to balance the scales ourselves. Fight tooth and nail with others, authority, ourselves, to get the lives we deserve. But I can see her newly faded battle scars and I have add the choice to join her movement, not my own. Because never in my life have I seen a person who deserved everything.

My Worst Enemy

I realize the root of my fears when my heart is in my throat and my stomach is full of vodka I never asked for. After six days of isolation from pain – a world where the world spun smoothly, the heat thawed my frozen heart and allowed it to love again. A place where I was surrounded by love and support, comfort and safety, laughter and happiness. Only to be thrust so suddenly into reality, a place where I am alone.

There are no more obligations to be a team member. The radical shift of being thrown back into the pit ready to be torn apart like my dogs keeping me awake at night. All the horrors of my past come crashing back because nothing can keep them away. Nothing can stop them from breaking my heart all over again. I watch from afar as their world continues to spin in fair weather without me. But why does the earth tremble beneath my feet, if my absence is not worth a drop of rain for them?

When the only thing left to comfort is darkness, I’m afraid I will never emerge from the shadows. I believe that, perhaps, the light of hope at the end of the tunnel is but a myth, as my world only seems to transcend deeper into black. Surrounded by demons, I became well aquatinted with them. They were the friends I never wanted. The bullies that I kept around because it was better than being alone. As time crawled on in that despair, I began to realize that my tormentors were simply extensions of me.

I had allowed my feelings to be manipulated into a loaded gun.
Mangled, violent and angry, ready to fire. But the only death would have been mine. I was the only thing caught in the crossfire. I became the victim of my own feelings. The feelings of betrayal and disgust – things that fueled my self imposed hatred. All because they cared no more about me, than a pebble in a stream.

Toxic friendships seem to be a breeding ground for depression. Their words multiply and grow like parasites, thriving off the misfortune of others. But yet, we endure because somewhere along the way we were taught it was better than being alone. Somewhere along the way we were told to put ourselves in danger to blend in. Somewhere along the way we were taught to feel guilty, when inflicted by the wrong doing of others. Somehow, we were learned to feel nothing but pain.

The Post 9/11 Kids

Just like any other generation: the baby boomers, the X Kids, anyone born into the mid to late nineties are flagged as many things. Generation Y. Post 9/11 Kids.

Graduation

It’s hard walking the hallways that echo with memories of people whose names will be forgotten as the years go by.
Faces that will fade into blurred lines. Their power and popularity will dissipate and be nothing more than a blip on the caution radar.
Everything was about the grades, the boys, the drinks and the girls. It was what you had, not what you were worth.

Home

There’s something about the way the dying Spring light filters through the kitchen that swells my heart with warmth. As I sit on the couch, some strange yet familiar, and listen to the songs of the Beatles drift through the floorboards and mix with the sound of the news, it feels like home. A home I never really had. A home I don’t have.
Surrounded with sarcasm with the best intentions. And genuine care and concern. A barking bantering love I missed so dearly. It’s the rare time I feel a part of a family. Family isn’t always blood. It’s the ones who love you, with all integrity and loyalty they have.

Everything fits into place so well, even after months of not seeing my brother. A brother with a different mother, who was never my brother. But, in the light of these days, he is my family.

It’s only now, recalling the past that I realized how much these people shaped my life. The music, the culture, the love… And it’s overwhelming to see how fast time flies – for now it is not him who is leaving for the next chapter of life; it is me. It’s my turn.
Though I am afraid, I know it is okay to fall. For they will catch me with all the love and their best efforts.
It’s moments like these, that I am home.

Pre-Programmed

I’ve always considered myself a part of a privileged life. At least in the big scheme of things. My situation was no more desperate compared to third world countries, than Tsar is to his peasants. I may not have had much at some times, but I had my health. I had my family. Some days I debated whether or not I had either. But there was always the liberation of my heart, come any holiday when I remembered those less fortunate. But in the small picture, the narrow tunnel vision of selfishness, I never really paid mind to much of anything.

Thoughts of a Part Time Insomniac

My head is so cluttered with my beliefs… Or lack there of. So many sides to too many stories that I don’t know the endings too. Everything is just a bunch of middle.

Selfish Love

It seems as though, that
the ones who love the most
accept the least in return.
While we see, that
the ones who love the least
accept the most in return.

Because the people
who love enough, to give it away,
end up getting nothing back.
Because the people
who love less, take it away,
and give nothing in return.

The people who love the most,
are a strange faction of humanity.
So pure, yet empty from giving,
that they would accept pity for love.
Unaware of the hearts genuine passion-
Leads them to believe real love as pity.

The Family

I often find myself bemused simply by the way they are. The way they act – a changed person, born again! Almost. It’s as if the burdens of the world dissipate when they find each other after many months. Many months of telephone calls and invoices across time zones, none of that compares to the real thing.

(Can’t) Blame It On the Alcohol

Don’t tell me that alcohol excuses you from your violent actions.