Shades of Light

We can only see with the right shade of light, but jus because we can’t see it doesn’t mean it’s not there.

I can see the struggle each time I look at her. Moving close one second and recoiling the next, the fear of her head being bitten off in a rage of being pulled close lovingly must be very confusing but there is no other way for the time being. We can’t always protect that which we care about from ourselves in all our vulnerable glory.

It amuses me how much people worry about what they can’t change but ignore those things they can, such is the fallible habit of the human complex.

Trying to concentrate has been difficult today, everyone has wanted to acquire my attention one way or another when I am engrossed in my thoughts. Although I politely smile and converse I am carefully watching the seconds dwindle away on the clock, waiting for them to finish talking about such pointless topics. I guess my mood today is on what some might call a low ebb.

I was reading about the 5 stages of grief earlier, a topic I have never really looked in to in depth before.


Each has their own set of beautiful and unique characteristics. Many of which are easily transferred in to every aspect of day to day life, when you stop and look that is. I once described my mind like the web of a spider, how each thought is another strand in the web and another possibility but they all lead to the same eventual outcome. Basically a chaotic process elimination that only I understand.

Keeping this principle in mind I have watched one person go through all 5 stages multiple times today, while the internal mechanisms of feeling will magnify certain stages at certain times, depending on the situation you can almost always pin point where a person is and use this knowledge to either quell their suffering and calm them, alternatively you could take someone to the very edge of sanity if you were so inclined.

The hour has become late, I find myself staring out of the window in to what looks like nothing but I know that what i can’t see is a garden, a garden filled with vibrant colours, wildlife and memories. It makes me wonder about how much we fail to see that is right there in front of our eyes but it’s in a shade to dark to see through without the right shade of light.

Unreal Awareness

I hold my position while concealing myself, slightly changing the angle at which I sat allowed me to remain out of their view. This was an encounter I would rather not have and thankfully it was avoided.

Walking past without even an ounce of awareness as to their surroundings they walk past, I avert my eyes and focus one the book that had now become so tightly clutched my knuckles turned white. Staring at the pages I am surprised that they didn’t burst in to flame.

Several minutes passed and I felt the pressure of their presence staring to weaken and vanish, it is now that I can allow myself to drop my guard and unveil myself once again. Watching them walk in to the distance I can’t help but reminisce for a brief moment and think of how different my life would have been, wondering what paths I would have taken and what unrealised realities may have been.

Slowly I come back to the real world. Dwelling in the days of future past is a waste of time, there is no reason or need to think about what might have been because it never happened, but it is still nice to think about all those days spent fighting and how alive it made me feel, sadly though kids dreams are never meant to last and life moves on.

Closing my eyes I allow my hearing to reach it’s peak and take in every sound, my sense of touch begins to soar to the height of it’s sensitivity allowing me to feel even the subtlest draft of fresh air in this stuffy room. The aromas that linger in the atmosphere are both foreign and friendly, some being welcome reoccurrences and others not so much.

Listening to the voices around me the different tones and pitches tell some interesting stories, but it’s the words people are not saying that interest me the most and the tones is which they say what they do. Each has its own layer of meanings, some spoken with passion and fire, others will a bitter chill and sharp sting of jealousy, all mixed in with the mundane and senseless dribble of the monotone army.

Slowly my sight returns and start to focus. All the time I have been sat watching people I have never felt anyone watching me before. While I was curious to why the person who had been watching me watch everyone else I did not approach, they didn’t want to be seen by me, it’s best I let them think that way because sometimes it’s best to simply let things go.

I would leave her in peace, her pride intact and her secret desire known only by me.

Winding Roads

It can be hard to concentrate with unwanted noise in the background, why is it people will fight for your attention when they can see you’re engaged in something that matter to you?

The scarcity principle is one few are aware of, but then again these are the same people who are easily influenced by means such as social proof and reciprocity too, the will never learn. to lear would mean to leave their comfort zone and accept that they have been duped more time than they would every admit.

If you sit and watch the world go buy you can see those who hold none of the cards of influence, those who have the perfect poker face and bluff their way to power, finally we have the the real masters of the game… those who have all the right cards with the knowledge of how to use them and more frighteningly a remorseless attitude to use them.

Winding Roads Part 1

Can you see it?

Crouched in the corner sobbing like a scolded child… That is the once great man, the one who forever showed promise yet amounted to nothing in the end.

Now as his life draws to a close we shall know his story. The good times and the bad, the demons from the past that lingered and haunted, the reason it all went so terribly wrong.

This is the story of the man who would have had it all and more if not for that one fatal flaw…

The journey started many years ago when the skies were clear and the slums were but a whisper on then wind. A man is born of nobel blood but through sordid means his character is tarnished, the first step down the path set the tone for the rest of the journey but sadly he never had a choice.

As the years go by the man becomes a success, a success without fear or worry, free from the harrowed view of the world that was shared by his peers. At this time the road was still a simple straight line, unbeknownst to the lone maverick a fork was fast approaching up ahead, one route would lead to salvation and a future unlike any other, the second road was set towards damnation but neither gave any clue as to their true nature.

The road was filled with mystery, the shadows seemed to move of their own will as if they were alive. Owls can be heard in the dark of the night but not seen, following him, stalking him, waiting… Always waiting.

He reaches the fork and without hesitation he picks a path and doesn’t look back. There is not an ounce of fear, no hint of curiosity for the road he ignored, there is only what he can see before him and it is a long winding road.


“I miss you.”

Uttered with tears running down her face and make up destroyed by the flood. She clutches her own arms and digs her nails in hard, drawing more blood with each second she hold on.


She will never understand. How many times have we returned to this place, how many times have I explained, how many times can we repeat this… How many times do I have to sit here and watch as she falls apart.

How many more times…

“What are you doing this to me?”

Frantically clawing her arm to shreds, her shrills can be heard throughout the building. She hovers on the edge of despair, her entire world revolved around someone else, nothing else mattered and if they were not together then there was no point in living if only to be alone.


Trying to get her to calm down is so difficult and it’s becoming even harder, even the sedatives are losing their effects now. She never listens to anyone anymore and explodes at the slightest memory. Just looking at her tearing chunks out of her skin makes me feel terrified, but the second they try to pull her arms apart she will dig in even deeper and cause herself more damage; just as before.

“Where have you gone?”

Staring in to her eyes that were once likes sapphires I can see her thoughts become entangled, tripper over one another unable to make sense of anything. I wish she would just forget.


I don’t know what option I have to calm her down, I don’t know how she can deal with this anymore. It’s been 6 years and in glorious routine today is the day we arrive back at square one once again. I thought she had really made progress after the last time, the psychiatrist seemed to have such high hopes.

Why can’t she just let it go.

“What did I do wrong?”

If only I could reach out and hold her. She did nothing wrong, she did all she could… Nothing could have stopped it.


“Why didn’t you love me anymore?”

I still love you now. If only my words could reach her perhaps her torment would subside, perhaps she would be able to accept the truth.


I’m sorry I could’n’t stay.
I’m sorry I couldn’t hold on any longer.
I’m sorry I left you alone in this world.
I’m sorry….

“Why did you leave me! WHY!”

Words screamed with glass shattering power. Finally the orderlies rush in to find Elizabeth curled in the corner, blood seeping through the restraint jacket. One hold her down while she continues to scream, the other administers as sedative.

Shortly after her struggle starts to cease she is rendered unconscious, laying next to the only thing she has left, his ashes.


I’m sorry…

Frosted Heavens

As it rains over the frosted heaven, I can see clearly. That which blocked my vision has disbursed and all is revealed, there is no place left for this fear to hide and the only option left is to confront it head on, as always.

I would be lying if I was to say I had no worries of what they will find, but there are plenty of people in this sinister world of ours who have troubles far worse than mine, it’s time to stop worrying, or at least try too.

Having insight in to problems such as these gives a larger view of the world. It helps you see people with familiar vacant stares and potential reasons as to their anguish, though there is never any guarantee they share the same woes. Gut feeling often tells me all I need to know, to learn to trust gut feeling is a skill few will ever willingly accept because gut feeling is never wrong. A bold statement, but if you trust your gut feeling you will know the truth in those words.

Being able to stand here are just stare in the space is a rarity in our modern world. The concrete jungles that overrun the surface are ever growing and these places of calm are few and far between, but the do still exist in small pockets of the world. They are removed from life as it were, frozen in time, devoid of what is reality but that’s not always a bad thing, especially in a world that never sleeps.

It’s such a clear night, there is no wind, no sounds, nothing.

I do enjoy this tranquility, it is at times like these that you realise nothing really matters because in this moment only my thoughts occupy where I stand. I almost look forward to this time every night because it is the only time I am every truly able to have peace.

The hour is 2AM, I would invite you to share it with me but this is my time.

It’s Raining Again:

Reality will choose to rain on those who deserve the sun, but that rain is a gift because it will hide the tears that we don’t want anyone to see. This is what allows those fabled few to hide in plain sight, free of prying eyes and the uneducated who deem to know all.

I often wonder how people perceive what is written each day. Do they see it as a door to the soul or perhaps just simple creative writing written with small hints of truth, either way it doesn’t really matter because writing should mean something to the person who writes and if others connect then let the good times flow, but if they don’t then it’s ok because it doesn’t really matter, after all, we’re not all world class authors, some of us are just regular people who enjoy writing.

It’s All About Time

It’s all in the timing.

The situations we are confronted with in life, who we turn to, who we see as the hero or the villain, is all largely dependent on the timing. This is an inconvenient truth that people will deny because it doesn’t suit them to believe it, even though it’s true.

I have been in various situations with skewed vision, but when you sit and look back it becomes very clear what was really going on.

One of those ‘kinda friends’ is in a situation where she is scared of being alone. Reading her messages I can see confusion, a lost little girls searching for the yellow brick road that’s buried under the muddy leaves. She will not admit it, she defends her views ferociously, it’s something she isn’t ready to accept yet but in time she will see that she doesn’t miss the person, she missing the feeling.

Feelings can be recreated, all it takes is the right conditions at the right time and the person who you thought was your one true love becomes nothing but a distant memory.

One thing I’ve learnt is that life is one giant experiment, like a science project in a lab all it takes is an accident to create a miracle or a disaster. Too many people try to force the conditions, but life just doesn’t work that way.

Life will either fall in to place or fall apart, you don’t get the choice of which. You’re merely swept along, caught in the current. The river might be straight and uneventful, or it might be filled rocks, jagged edges and danger at every turn, just sit back and see what comes your way and deal with it when it happens.

The young and naive views of the inexperienced is like looking in a mirror.

When I was 18 I knew far more than I do now. At 18 I had it all figured out, the world, life, relationships, simply everything and then I ‘fell in love’ well, for the first time anyway and it all changed. I built a business, I worked several jobs, I grew up and the cruel irony of it all is the more I learnt the more I didn’t know, nor would I ever know.

We were all young once, but we didn’t understand what it meant.
Do I sound condescending?

Probably. I’m sure there are people far younger than me who know far more and have had far more life experience, but does it matter?


All that matters in the end is you realised your own ignorance, your own mortality and you don’t know what you think you know and you never will.

In the end, it’s all about time.

Ash & Embers

As the mind does wonder, the heart aches. We begin to feel unworthy of what we have, like the great pretenders of the world

We can not prevent it, just like we can’t stop the sun from setting, all we can do is listen to what it feels and silently cry because somethings, some feelings are never meant to be happy ones. They are meant to remind us that in the end we all have endured and there will be more suffering.

There are those who will never really understand why they feel this way, but it’s ok. Just remember you’re never really alone, there will always be someone somewhere that is in the same place as you, silently crying while they stare up at the stars.

If you take the thought with you, you won’t feel as sad anymore, no matter where you are or how far away people might feel, know this; they share the same thoughts.

Last night, this morning, today… they are all a blended blur to me. The end result is a variable struggle to form a cohesive thought pattern. I struggle to keep a focus on anything for more than half an hour, lethargy has sent it without any warning.

A Dance of Embers and Ash:

If you were to stare as a fire that has burnt out you would be forgiven for thinking that there is no life left in it. The surface value of what we can see is all many will ever need to know to make their judgments and choices.

What would happen if you were to touch the ash?

On the surface it might be cold, soft and safe, but… plunge your hand a little deeper and you will find at its core there is still life. If you were to kick the ashes apart you would see the glowing embers, the remnants of what was once a mighty fire. It is in these embers that the potential to reignite what once was alive, it’s potential is preserved in the core, all that is needed is fuel for the fire. The give of life to once again allow the fire to rage.

The world is strewn with the ash of the past. It’s all that’s left of those once glorious fires and now all it does to dance with the wind drifting from place to place with no hope of reigniting. Unable to find the fuel they needed the ashes only option left was to become a memory scattered on the wind.