The girl who did not know…

It is those moments we miss that we remember the most. The ‘what ifs’ and the ‘maybes’ are those that we always look back on and imagine how life would have been different.

Some go right, others go left, occasionally some don’t move at all.

All the things that could have been said, none of them matter, they remained unspoken until too much time had passed.

We sabotage ourselves.

If you’re looking for the opportune moment, that means you missed it.

Do you ever?

Do you ever just type? For no other reason than it just feels right?

So many new faces in so many familiar places, and still one by one they leave, I doubt I will ever cross paths with them again. It leaves me wondering, who they were, what they do, are they happy and living life the way the desired or are they not?

Life is full of questions. I enjoy it so.

Each individual moment is what give life its meaning, good, bad or indifferent. What does it mean? Nothing. It is only a moment, a moment that will never happen again.

Choosing Sides

“The seas of change are string, I can feel a choice coming my way and I will have to live with the consequences of that choice. What am I to do…”

I had written the above passage almost a week ago now, I never posted it, and yet it still came to fruition.

There has been a clash between the people of my life. Two people who once held a mutual respect are not at each others throats, I can see both sides of the coin, I can understand what each is trying to say, and still, while I don’t agree with ones course of action and consider it wrong I will stand by her because, she is my friend.

Her biggest fear is one that I will not stand for her and not protect her, she is wrong. I would stand, even if it meant I was also seen in the same light, because, that’s what friends do.

Many will say you don’t have to pick a side, this is foolish, you always have to pick a side and what matters most is who’s side you pick; because it doesn’t matter if they are right or if they are wrong, you pick a side based on those you’re loyal too. You stand by them no matter what, you pick up the pieces not to make yourself seem like a better person, you do it because they are your friend.

That’s just how it is in my eyes.

A Torn Page

She is like a page in a book. A page who’s caught between two children, one turning left and the other turning right, it will only be a matter of time before she tears in two.

One is trying to move forwards, the other is trying to move back. I can feel the confusion and frustration surrounding her, it would simply be easier to let go and spare her this battle of attention.

I have said my piece “I don’t need to broadcast that you are my friend.” and still it is I who feels like the villain. Perhaps I am asking too much. Perhaps I have become so used to the inconsistency of my life that as with the man I see as my brother, I now see her as mine…

Mine to protect, mine to scold, mine to love. Mine.

The Simple Life

She wants to live a simple life with routine and security. She wants what she saw her parents never have, it is because of this she runs from the truth, it is because of this she hides from herself, it is because of this she will never grow, or move beyond the point of which she currently resides.

In her mind she has mapped out her life, she has decided to take the easy options, my question will always be why?

What is life if not to grow?

I can only hope one day to understand the complexities of the ever contradicting condition that is humanity.

Dancing Mad

Once again life has gotten more complicated.

Too often this happens, we ignore what is there because we know the ramifications of following that potential course. We sit back and watch as life unfolds before our eyes, all the time thinking; could that be me?

I hear of people talking about their choices in life, or I see overly grandiose statuses on social media and think, why write what you don’t understand?

I am by no means perfect, I value honesty above all else, yet I struggle to say those crushing words to people that I know will leave them as shattered as I once was. I meet some questions with silence while I search desperately to find the words to consul and convey how I feel. I can hurt people for the right reasons, what I can’t do is watch someone be hurt because of me again, I can’t handle the guilt anymore.

These situations are of my own creation. I allow people to get close; too close sometimes. As a result they see me as a friend, over time their feelings develop and they seem me as more because the closer they get the more vulnerable I become, and so the cycle repeats- I begin to pull away.

Pulling away if the only way I have ever dealt with the potential of getting hurt once more.

Do we ever really know what we want? Is it to feel needed, wanted, respected or even loved? Or are we all just afraid of being alone…

The company of others is always a welcome thing, it makes us feel like we belong and when something upsets our world we freeze, the we try to run, eventually we face the choice to brave the storm or just let go, I have always let go. Being prepared to walk away even if we don’t want to can be considered weak, it’s not, it’s the point where we just don’t want the same cycle to keep repeating.

The young dismiss the lessons of the old because of ignorance, and the old belittle the young because of naivety, the young forget the old have been there and the old forget that once upon a time they were young too. People will repeat their mistakes because it’s all they know.

To repeat the same thing time and again expecting a different outcome is the very definition of insanity.

How long will I repeat the same mistake before I finally have the courage to do something different?

Delirious dreams

A dream so real, it felt like waking up was the dream.

Dreams hold our deepest desires, our deepest lusts, and fears. I have long since dismissed dreams for what they are -The hearts way of yearning for that which it wants.

As I lay there at the hour of 2:32am I am confronted by a slew of emotion, No tears were shed but the relentless sting persisted for an indeterminate amount of time. Falling asleep once again I begin walking, I no not where I go, I just walked, what was moments felt like years as I traversed what can only be described as the decollate plaines of my mind.

I find myself aligned more with Melancholy as I age. The music that resonates with me, the words that catch my attention, the emotions I sense with ease, they are all linked to this temperament.

Perhaps my walking is my minds eye’s way of saying my journey is far from over.

Static Time

A peaceful tranquility has surrounded me, this feeling is eery, it seems like the calm before the storm.

The peace was beautiful while it lasted.

As I sit in this local coffee house watching and listening to the people around me I noticed one thing, they are all oblivious to how one another is feeling. They are talking but not listening.

Each pairing or group look totally relaxed, the pitches of their voices change for a sultry tone to an elevated pitch only when they talk about themselves. I can feel their attention focused only on themselves, one didn’t even noticed her child had walked half way towards to door before his absence became apparent.

We are becoming a world living in static time, everything around us ages and we take no notice because we do not care.

Silent Beauty

Great writing is like great music or great art; It can’t just be made, it has to be felt.

It comes from the heart and is unbound by the laws of restriction. The emotion flows outward like a dam that has burst.

This is how I see much of the beautiful works of the world. These are the expressions of hidden emotions, the words with no sound, the pain with no tears.

This is the silent beauty of the world that people can’t see.

To see the true essence of a persons beauty is to see what makes them feel.