"You know what, actually, you're being petty" from 30.08.16

Guess what?

I have a right to be happy independent of whether you think I deserve it or not. 

Guess what?

It hurts so much to see you put salt in my wounds. I don't know if you're intentionally doing it, but dear Lord, it hurts. To see you sail smoothly where I have tripped and fallen is like a kick in the gut.

Guess what?

I'm trying my damnedest to keep this ship afloat, but you're either going to have to turn up or run away eventually. If you could decide anytime soon that would be nice as I don't want to waste my heart, soul, energy, hope and effort on someone who is just going to let me break my back for them with no notice.

Guess what?

You don't get to play the victim. I didn't do anything to deserve this garbage treatment. I didn't threaten you or hold you down or manipulate you. I just tried to let you fly without me. I'm sorry that you think I'm just a brick you're tied to.

Guess what?

If you're hurt about something, TELL ME. How am I meant to do any better if I think I'm doing a good job? Do you just expect me to know? Spoiler alert: I don't and leaving me behind in the dust hacking my lungs up doesn't make me any better. It's almost like communication is key, or something?? Revolutionary, I know.

Guess what?

The only reason I'm writing this is to stop from crying because I want you to just LISTEN to me. I am always the fixer, plastering things up but people don't want things to just be better, they want PERFECT and that is something I will NEVER be. If we compromise, maybe we could both come to an understanding that works for both of us. I will not appease you this time. I am done setting myself on fire just to keep you warm. Burn yourself out, but don't set me alight to keep you company.

"Gee Thanks For Messaging Me Back" from 30.08.16

I'm sorry that I ruined your life
I'm sorry that I'm not the same
I'm sorry that you can't see my perspective
I'm sorry I messed up your plan somehow
I'm sorry that I was in the way
I'm sorry I'm not who you want me to be
I'm sorry that other people are exempt from what I am not
I am sorry that I'm not what you thought you were paying for
I'm sorry, I tried my damn best
I'm sorry that I broke everything down
I'm sorry that you don't understand me
I'm sorry that I am not doing a better job than you
I'm sorry that you left me hanging
I'm sorry that you won't even look at me
I'm sorry that you ignore my messages
I'm sorry that you can't face life's harsh realities
I'm sorry that I'm angry
I'm sorry that you feel like you have more right to anger than me
I'm sorry I tried to understand you
I'm sorry that I cut myself short so you could stand taller
I'm sorry that your actions make me feel small
I'm sorry that every time you hang out it feels like an arrow to the knee
I'm sorry that I'm not what you wanted
I'm sorry that I'm not what you want
I'm sorry that others are better where I have failed.

"when u read 2 much shakespeare and cry more than 7 times in 3 days" from 29.07.16

Sometimes I wonder if I deserve this
Cosmic karmic punishment.
I was the instigator of a messy
Breakdown and now I am the subject
Of a cruel flip of fate.

Is this what was always coming?
Is this the conclusion to the ever-building scream in my throat?

Suspended in between origin and fruition.
No noise escapes but my raggedy breaths.
It is a silent feeling pushing its way out.
I lock it down.
It's nice to have a reason to scream.
That which was once trapped is now 
Finally allowed its freedom if even so
In a most morbid fashion.

If destiny have willed this upon me
As a penance for my misdemeanors
It would make, in a way, sense. I cannot
Comprehend how this came to the point 
Which now lies embedded in my forgiving
Front, a testament to the nature of balance
And balance of nature. Neither so did the 
Ever innocent in my own cruel revolution.

So to proclaim myself a victim feels like
Basic untruth, for are we all not at some time
The wielder of power? Furthermore, is it more
Important to recognise one's own faults or to
Simply not blunder? One makes the self honest,
The other makes the self more righteous.
For within mine own skin I see the downfalls
Of my past and thus accept the tears of my present.

"An evaluation on the ending of friendships" from 22.07.16

My main question since you deserted me:

- Am I just as fickle as you?

My tentative answer to this question:

- !FIELD NOT FOUND!

My observations of your behaviour:

- You always adapt to your surroundings

- In a way, we all do

- We learn to speak louder when grandma's around and softer when it's baby's nap time

- But this feels different

- You adopt whatever the person you are with holds most dear

- You pull it closer to yourself and in the process, closer to them, a desperate attempt to hold onto someone before they burn out like a match

My main question reworded:

- Do I also change who I am just to fit in with people?

Supporting evidence for answer: "no"

- I did not burn all my bridges in an attempt to keep myself safe, like you did

An elaboration

- I only burned most of my bridges

- not all

- it's not the same

- please don't let it be the same

Supporting evidence for answer: "yes"

- I was always so quick to placate your demands

- I was always ready to do whatever it took to keep you

- (That didn't stop you)

- (I'm probably worse than you)

- (oh dear god)

- (I'm a fraud)

- (What am I even sure about myself?)

Conclusion drawn from evaluation:

- I don't know.

- I hope desperately for the sake of my precariously pieced together personality that I'm not

Please.

Untitled from 15.07.16 and 22.07.16

I have an obsession with you.
Not in the traditional sense.
In a way where I constantly follow your every move in order to
Attempt to figure out my next move
Avoid or Approach or Assume

Avoid, usually.

It pisses me off to no end.

It's as though I'm still connected to you somehow, 
As though I have yet to sever ties.
I wonder if that will ever fade or
If it is simply the nature of the end.

I'm always conscious of your presence
Aware
Of where
You are
Compared
To me.
With this information I know not what to do.

Every time I see you my brain
Goes into a panic, not because
It shuts down but merely 
Because it has no programmed action.

It's a panic of:
Shit what the hell am I meant to do now oh shit what is the right thing holy shit
A decision that has to be made.
Nine times out of ten I
Run
Avoid and 
Hide

I mean it's just worked so well for me thus far, not.

I know not what other to do.
Every time I attempt to smooth
I make the hole deeper and wider
A testament to my failure.
At what point do we stop smoothing?
Stop fixing the seemingly unfixable?
I gave up, I conceal this not.
But only for fear of allowing my
Bloated pride to ribbon the shrinking shreds once more.

I drew the line
I don't know how to fix it
I function with you ever in my peripheral
I don't know how to fix it
I want to fix it but
I don't know how to fix it

Untitled from 22.07.16

I don't want to date anyone.
I want to fake-date someone.
Without the romantic subtext of the run-of-the-mill rom-com.

I want all the perks of dating
- a best friend
- someone to snuggle with
- getting to do cool things together
- cute nothing-y things that only couples have an excuse to do

Without all the sucky parts
- romantic complications
- awkwardness
- not feeling like you can ask what they actually think

Though most of those are hardly universal
I am an anomaly. 
A piece with no puzzle of origin.
A stand alone movie, where a sequel was attempted but abandoned, but everyone loves it just the way it is.
It's probably best left just as it is anyway.

I want all of the parts of dating that involve the sweet nothings of the couple but without the permanency. You both know it could end and welcome it. I feel too boxed in by questionable endings and lock-in contracts. Even when that's not entirely what they are.

Because maybe, in the end, I just don't deserve a love.

It's hard to forgive yourself when you leave no time for them to forgive you.

[4/52] - A story about three siblings

It was a little chilly, but I was happy to stick it out, smiling pleasantly at my mum nest to me. The airport air was cold compared to the heavy humidity of the outside. I kept glancing up at the screen showing the arrivals, waiting for a glimpse of that bright blue suitcase.

It felt like such a long time, but it wasn't, not really. When I finally see her my face cracks into a smile. I have waited months for this. She spots my mother and I, heading in our direction. She looks straight through me.

I crawl into bed with my younger sister that night. We're sixteen  and seventeen, much too old for this, but she holds me tight and strokes my hair as I weep for my still missing other half, who sits in her room and messages her new friends. My tears leave wet, hot, sticky patches on her pillowcase, but she just whispers soothing words into my hair and runs her fingers through my sweaty hair.

"I wish Charlotte were here. I need my best friend."

The words are not meant to be overheard, but she pays little attention to me these days anyway. The hurt runs down my spine like a lightning strike, leaving me pained. I should have known better than to just expect her to come back to me. I flick through photos with bitterness, her smile in them so distant from her current, consistently bored eyes joined by a flatline of a mouth. If she won't come to me, so begins my chase.

I follow her for hours. My younger sister invited me to go out with her, but what if she comes for me while I am gone? She claims to be assailed by "follow up assignments" at all times. It releases her only for brief appearances at meals. I go with my younger sister, eventually. I waited and I chased and I wasted my time. She knows where I am. My younger sister breaks into a smile whenever I agree to go with her. I push the rejection in my stomach down and focus on the present.

"You're spending so much time with her. You don't have any time for me."

Her words cut me. "I waited and I chased you. You turned me down." I pause, hearing only silence. "She came to me and even though I turned her down the first time, she accepted me when I came. She didn't tell me that it was all my fault and send me away again. I wanted to be around you so badly and you said no. I moved on because of you, not before you."

She stares at me and moves away. I will accept the blame. I always do. Doesn't mean it hurts any less.

[3/52] - a retelling of a fairy tale

As I sit here in her bedroom, I wonder how I could've ever doubted that this reward would pay out the risks. She's so beautiful, yet so fragile, yet so full of spirit. Her porcelain skin is almost reflective in the dim moonlight. She looks ill, I admit, but still as elegant as ever, hooked up to machines and wires, yet as dignified as ever. She smiles at me so wide that I'm afraid her face will break into two.

"Shhhhhh," I whisper, holding out the bag of smuggled cookies. She reaches for one tentatively, as though I will yell "SYKE" and jump back out the window from whence I came. Her face melts before she has even finished chewing her first bite.

My heart soars before footsteps on the stairs paralyse me momentarily. The footsteps pass and disappear. I breathe in a sigh of relief.

"I'm sorry," she shakes her head. "This is ridiculous. You don't need to be here." She nudges me toward the window.

I giggle under my breath, a light tinkle like a tiny bell. "Nothing could keep me from my princess." I lift her hand and kiss it between the many drips and monitor wires.

"You know what will happen if my mother catches you up here…"

"She'll have to drag me tooth and nail from your side."

"You're ridiculous."

"You have to be to climb three storeys up an unreliable rope ladder just to deliver cookies to a dying princess, but conveniently, I love you."

She rolls her eyes.

I run my fingers over her delicate hand. She sighs contentedly.

Her most striking physical feature is her long, golden hair. Chemotherapy usually kills hair calls, but she's lucky enough for hers to just continue growing. She's also unlucky enough for the chemotherapy to not kill the cancer cells.

"You know we can't be together forever," she whispers.

"I am quite content with being together right now."

As I sit here in her bedroom, I notice the smell of cookies on her breath and the chill in her hand. She's so beautiful, yet fragile, yet full of spirit.

[2/52] - A story about rising to a challenge

When he falls, my world crumbles. His legs just give way from beneath him, having been weary for so long, eventually unable to support him any longer, weak muscles collapsing even under his admittedly light frame.

My heart stops and adrenaline shoots through my system. I panic. Thousands of thoughts fly through my brain, most of them far too quickly to even register.

I wonder if this is what the internet is like

I shake it out of my head, returning to my grandfather lying in a heap on the linoleum of the kitchen floor. He makes a faint sound of pain and my heart breaks even further.

I race over to check his state. There's no way I can pick him up and even if I could, there would be nothing I could to do to help. He blinks groggily and as I grab his hand, his grasp is almost non-existent.

I know he doesn't want to go back to hospital; his existence is already a repetitive one, but at least it is within the comfort of his own home. In hospital it's just the same, only more clinical and structured. No-one in the family even dares to whisper the unspoken thought

If he goes in again, it's unlikely that he'll ever come out…

But as his body lies in a pile in front of me, I don't have many other options. I swat at an itch on my face that I vaguely recognise as tears. My heart is beating too quickly, too intensely to be normal.

I pick up the phone and punch the zero button three times before babbling answers to questions I will not remember. I stroke my grandfather's face soothingly, trying to keep the light in his eyes, at least until the ambulance arrives.

The phone sticks to my face, wet with salty tears. My heartbeat doesn't stop racing. I don't know if it ever will.

"I Yet Wait" from 19.05.16

Culture stress is now a murderer
The temptation of outside its cruel accomplice
How can you learn to function in a world you must ever resist?
For who enjoys the cage after the skies?
You were once free
You are once again free now
Those that are left here are but constrained further
I feel further from my surroundings than ever before
As though only that which I touch lives
All else just a kind background illusion

Do I yet live?
Not at the present
I am trapped by petty circumstance until it restrains me no longer
So I yet wait for life to reclaim my burden
And return me to my rightful post in freedom
You have yours at a price
I am not willing to pay that other than simple time
So I yet wait.

"Mistakes in a row" from 17.05.16

Do you ever see something you just know you shouldn't?

Do you go looking for it?

Somewhere inside, you know it will only cause you pain, but you search for it anyway.

Seeing it doesn't help. The curiosity just grows into soul-destroying pain, something much worse. If the curiosity was a sting, this destruction is like a body that has been battered and crushed and bruised. It is a constant ache that can be ignored, but never fully adjusted to. It drains your life. 

We don't often make good choices without experience. We can learn from a textbook, but until you see your own incorrect spelling, you will not learn that word correctly. 

I did not do well. 
I thought I was above what I did.
I regret that.
But my past mistakes remain unchangeable.

So let my guilt be my burden and weigh me not down with the rocks of your spite or frustration, I beg you. You need not listen to my pleas; my choice has set the lines in the sand. But I can try. Indicatively, my simple "trying" does not cut it. 

I'm afraid I have nothing else to offer.

"Winds" from 22.04.16

When troubled winds blow
You grow together
You lean
You learn to rely on them when your hands are tied.

Until the wind stops
And you're ripped apart
And you're alone again
And you're tossed back to that which feels so familiar but so foreign.

Then come the breakdown
Stuff is thrown around
Stuff is in your way
Stuff begins to take you further from what you've known.

Pulling together becomes more difficult.
In your way is distance
In your way is time
In your way is everything that the wind blew away.

So you learn to do it alone
Pick yourself up
Pick your things up
Put yourself back on the road to something.

"Window Remnants" from 22.04.16

A deep sense of longing
For something you only had the illusion of knowing
Where careless words cut deep
And cruel insecurities creep

Preying on the remnants of lost love
That left you looking above
And beyond its calm familiarity
Ignoring its brokenness and clarity

But a creaking, cracked window
Is preferable to its tiny shards
That force you to step with collected caution
And play alone to your last card
Lest those pieces find their way inside
You keep your heart silent and hide

But the glass is broken now
So swept up
And out they must go.

"quaking, floating, crossing" from 22.04.16

I slip between the pieces
a crack in the "whole"
We are but two puzzle pieces that pretend to fit together
relying on clay to smooth the gaps between us

Someone is removed
The earth quakes
Our tiles move differently
The fractures appear
The clay is swallowed piece by piece
until we are no longer the same puzzle
just two isolated islands
who used to be acquainted.

The fissures are pulling my down
I belong to neither faction
I am stateless in a group where citizenship is all
Alliances will keep me afloat
but for how long?
I am a meteor
outside the reach of either planet's gravity
doomed to keep coming back around;
Part of neither system,
just a recurring personality in their skies

Our fates were entwined, we thought.
But in truth, they merely crossed,
twisting a few times before parting;
parallel for a time
before being pulled away to new endeavours.
We were foolish to think that we could control our twine.
We can barely follow its journey,
let alone dictate its future.
So now
I choose to say my goodbyes, lest we cross not again.

"For yours or mine?" from 22.04.16

I am petty
I care
But for your good or mine?
This reason defines the nature of the action.

Is the what ever as important as the why?
Personal interests will only ever lead you astray.
To live only for oneself
is to live without real meaning.

So why then?
Who is this really all about?
Is it truly better for it to be you than me?
Was I deserving of this from the beginning of the end?

Petty interests at heart
I am no more deserving of acceptance than forgiveness
You owe me nothing
I, at least, owe you the dignity of choice.

Your choice is yours
I am not to deserve your words
or your recognition
So I will continue on

My pettiness is my choice, to an extent.
I choose to control it
to keep it in
the pain of it is my true consequence.

My care if pained by your lack thereof
But perhaps it is both of us to blame
for the barriers that keep us forevermore separate.
Will they ever dissolve?

"Imperfect Reality" from 22.04.16

I am egotistical
I am proud
I am self-centred

I want people to like me
I want people to admire me
I want people to want me

But I don't want to have to do anything about it
To exist as an idealised concept
a perfect thought
Nothing more than theory
a perfect outline of an imperfect reality
before I get too close and shatter expectations
Break down
to
the dust
of mistakes
and anxieties
and failed prospects;
everything I keep under wraps;
underneath;
inside.

Outside, I seem.
Inside, I am not.

"Hurt" from 22.04.16

Every time I see you, I look away
We're both edging around it
Every time I speak, you shut down
You wall up and look down
It makes me hurt
A constant reminder that I
As a person
Am not as:

eloquent,
gentle,
confident,
tactful,

as I believe

I deserve it
I understand
But it still
hurts

[1/52] - A story entitled "A New Beginning"

Her face was unfamiliar, but I recognised the experience with which she held herself. As soon as she arrived, she followed the standard general protocol upon entrance to a bunker perfectly, before setting up with what seemed like practised ease. Technically she was on probation, but there was no way the ranking members of the 51st bunker would turn down someone who was so clearly more experienced. 

That was the first moment I wondered what could could possibly be so bad that she was running to a trash-heap base like the 51st bunker, set on the outskirts of a dense forest, almost unreachable. I considered welcoming her, but she shied away from those who approached her, carefully evading their touch.

________________________________

I studied her face for weeks. There were no obvious signs of any virus, but she never touched another person, always whipping just out of reach at the last second with a forced laugh. She smiled at everyone and never spoke crassly, but always of inconsequential matters, always leaving decided distance between herself and others; her smiles were always calculated and removed. She accepted solo jobs only and whenever possible, she slipped out under the cover of nightfall, disappearing into the trees.

________________________________

I followed her outside following a heated argument between two of the higher ranking members concerning her presence. I reached for her wrist, running to catch up with her seemingly erratic path. I could almost feel her soft skin between my fingers before she pulled it from my reach, the air whipping against my arm, a soft gasp escaping her chapped and flaking lips. Her widened eyes slowly gave way to relief and then frustrated fire.

"Don't you dare pull a stunt like this again," she hissed. Her breath smelled like of faded mint, as though it was just a memory and tickled my face.

She turned on her heel and stalked into the dense bushland.

________________________________

She didn't appear back at the 51st bunker for three days, and when she finally returned, she brought back a scar as a souvenir, peeking out of the neckline of her shirt on her shoulder.

The next time I saw her, she was just beyond the limits of the 51st bunker, hissing at a crouched figure on the ground. They were curled over like they'd been winded and coughed lightly. 

She swiped at their face and they flinched away, mirroring her movements on the day I had reached for her wrist. She grabbed at their face and the figure wailed as her hands held their chin. She stared into their face, her eyes glowering. They stood like that for minutes, with the figure's body occasionally shaking as they coughed. She hissed at them again before dragging them further into the forest, ignoring their howls of protest.

________________________________

"I know what you've done," I whisper as I pass by her in the bunker. I stand close enough to her that my breath blows her hair and she leans away slightly.

"You have no idea what you saw," her usually agreeable expression turns dour and she points at the door expectantly.

I walk out into the muggy night, feeling her follow far enough behind me so as to stay just out of reach. 

"I have come here to start fresh and the more you dig into my business, the more difficult you make that," her eyes fading into a desperate pleading.

"Maybe you shouldn't have brought it with you," I fold my arms and she huffs. I take this chance to grab at her hand, curiosity taking control of my actions. She moves to escape but not fast enough. I make contact fleetingly.

It feels as though someone is rifling through my memories, picking out flashes of specifically her in my mind. Even dreams that I had since forgotten of her grabbing my face like she had the figure in the forest are pulled back to the surface of my consciousness as she grabs back at my retracted hand. In some of my dreams, she kisses me; in others I taste blood in my mouth before blacking out.

She releases my hand and shakes her head, the dark circles under her eyes more defined than I had ever seen. I fall into a heap on the ground as she walks back to the bunker, leaving me alone with the buzzing noise of my brain. My mind feels like someone was trespassing and read all my secrets. I hold myself close.

________________________________

She disappears for another couple of days before returning and packing her possessions with practised ease. The ranking members speak with her in hushed tones. I pick up my small bag of items, leaving the ones I had borrowed from the common store for someone else to clean up. She hoists her bag onto her back and traipses out the door without goodbyes. I follow.

"You never explained what happened," I yell after her, running to catch up.

"That was never part of my plan," she laughs, turning to face me.

"Where are you going?"

"To start somewhere new."

"Isn't that what you were supposed to be doing here?"

"I didn't count on nosy girls caring about strange girls more than they should."

"Let me come with you."

She laughs and I have to jog to keep up with her long strides. "You're not like anyone else I've ever met," she eventually settles on.

My curiosity swells.

"No one else seems to want to hang around after I've had a poke around in their head," she continues.

"I want to get to know you better."

"Most people only care about what I know about them. It's hard to trust someone who can know everything you think, but could still lie to your face undetected."

I keep up with her pace. "I'm not giving up on this lonely girl."

She pushes through some bushes until we reach a pathway. "I guess I can't really stop you following me."

I walk next to her and steel my nerves before curling my hand into hers. She jumps with surprise, eyes wide.

"You know I'm not lying when I say I just want to know you better."

Her eyes squeeze shut, as though savouring the moment. I feel her involuntarily search through my thoughts again. The image of me kissing her flashes in my head and I blush. "You know it's not that simple," she whispers.

"I guess I should at least take you out for dinner first."

She manages a laugh and squeezes my hand. I can still feel her in my head but it's as though she's chosen just to sit down and watch it all happen around her than go looking for something. "Maybe we should just start at the beginning then," she says.

I squeeze her hand back.