Out

I don't think you'll ever understand why we cannot be "just friends" I either want you in my life as all mine and nobody else's or not in my life at all. You're so god at making me jealous when I'm certain that the last thing on your mind is me. Or maybe its with every tiny snippet of remembering you I feel like a useless piece of work for throwing what we had away. Now I've reached the stage where I'm glad with how much we've changed; the fact that we will never again unite because we've drifted so far apart is almost a cold comfort because it means that I will never have you as mine again, which is all I deserve. If you're out there, out making something of yourself, out with a new man who will tell you I was a liar, I never want to know. That's why I need you out of my ife

Semicolon

"A semicolon is a powerful symbol used when an author could have ended the sentence, but they chose not to"

What a powerful symbol - one that holds such significance with myself and many others that I know and love.
Speaking from experience, knowing that the choice to finish my sentence; the fact that the opportunity presented itself to me resonates throughout my being.
I have lost before and the chance to stop, end it all with a period. But I have an unfinished list of things to do, experiences to live and beautiful lips to kiss before my time arrives.
Until then, you play a role in my life similar to that of a semicolon - I could choose to stop without you; but your smile reminds me to keep going;

Wasted Time

There comes a point where I must draw a line in the sand and just stop bothering to waste my time. The people who want me in their lives will seek me out, chase me down, will want me around

Its easy for someone to say the words "whenever you're around" and leave it there; so they can sweep you under the rug and resume their lives, where you clearly do not play a part. If someone really wanted you around they would invite you, chase you, even make their invitations open and vulnerable for rejection. They are the people who are worth it, they are the people who you should keep in your life

"Do not cross an ocean for someone who would not cross a puddle for you"

The hardest part is, there are people who you want to cross an ocean for you, but you know they never will; you should tell yourself to let them go, rid yourself of them and move forward. Yet you still give them infinite last chances as they keep you on the hook as a last resort, hoping that this time will be different, that they've changed; that it will work out in the end.

"And whilst crossing that ocean for you the suffering began, never to end. Each stroke you take drains your hope, your energy, until you need a lifeline that only one person can throw you. Water wells in your eyes, fills your lungs and sucks you under. As life evades you, you stare at the surface, hoping for the tragedy of just missing the rescue boat. But above remains calm - unnoticed, the tide pulls you below, never to be seen or missed by the person you would drown for"

Shipwreck

There will be a time when you realise that all the selfish, unkind people in the world you chose ahead of me will stick to their inconsiderate, hurtful ways, while I remain loyal, kind and gentle
The worst part about it is though, by the time you realise I was the right choice you will have missed your chance. Even someone as infatuated as myself understands that once a ship sinks to the bottom of the sea, it remains, never to rise again

My Heart

The chambers of the heart control us in so many strange ways. Weather I'm nervous, excited, overjoyed or petrified I feel the emotion bubble in my chest. But when you are on my mind I lose control;
Whenever I see someone drink coffee I think of the way you order, stir and drink your very own cup
Whenever I travel past a park bench I think of how I long to be back beside you, seated, transfixed by everything you do.
Even my gravest fear reminds me of you, and for a fraction of an instant I smile before flinching in fear when a bird enters my vision.
My heart longs for you s much that it is controlling everything I am. Soon I will end up on your doorstep, against my mind's will but following my heart.
My heart is yours, until you break it

Us

It pains me to think about how incredibly close I can try and get to "you" and "I" becoming "Us." Individually, I am a decent person, broken in parts but my heart is loyal and in the right place. My mind is a mess, random thoughts and memories dashed with painful emotions shape my chains of thought, and shape who I am as a person. You are amazing already; every little thing about you affects me in such a way that breath escapes my lungs, your presence lifts me above who I am.

But we never made it to Us. I don't think we ever will. Stolen kisses on an alcohol-stained hardwood floor may be the closest we come, however having a person like you in my life as a friend is the warming heartbeat of a sultry fireplace in a comfortable home. As much as I want to strike flame, I know from my past that I will burn the house down - which is fine. I can lose all my possessions and rebuild myself slowly.

What will hurt is sifting through the ashes, through our ruin. Grasping at charred memories of the hours we spent, laughing, sharing silent words and gazing into each other's eyes as if we were magic. That fear grips me because I will be left wondering about you, if you are happy and safe; hoping in awe of you, and if you remember me, or Us

The Stars

Its a strange feeling I get inside me when I unexpectedly see your beautiful smile; I feel fireworks tingle at the base of my spine, my lips burn like wildfire and my heart longs for nothing more than your company. To just be in the same space with you, to share a greeting hug that collects all the shattered fragments of my spirit and sticks them together for the shortest of moments.
Or to lay under the stars in the freezing cold grass during winter; feeling the frost form around our bodies during the early hours of the morning, talking, gazing. To just have my spirit share the same space as yours for whatever amount of time; be it 30 seconds or 30 hours.

I want you to know me and my flaws, my dorkiness and my graceless finesse, my past present and future, my triumphs and my despairs. I want you to be able to take one look in my eyes and know instantly if my day was a success or an inevitable failure. I want to have the humbled honour of putting my arms around you, sharing in your warmth, my hands reading your energy and your spirit and knowing how your day unfolded from a single touch. I want to speak without saying a word to you - hold silent conversations, reading the world of thoughts drifting through each others minds, oblivious to the stars in the universe outside

Content

I lay awake staring into the darkness as endless thoughts of the future radiate from my imagination.
Thoughts such as becoming a famous musician, sharing a part of my very soul that just cannot be expressed in words to thousands and thousands of other people.
Thoughts of becoming a world-class athlete, who with one strike of the ball can wow millions of spectators worldwide in an never-ending pursuit of glory and perfection.

But the scenario I imagine that appeals to me the most is becoming the person I am destined to be, who shares their life with the person of their dreams, where the two of us walk into a small, comforting home that we have made together, with everything we need and all I could possibly desire right in front of me.
I may never have thousands say my name across the world, but hearing you say my name as I hold you as close to my heart as I possibly can means more than the rest of the world put together, and I am more than content with that

Sledgehammer

Desiring you is such a dangerous thing for my already delicate heart.
But in an instant I go from a quiet content, an inner peace with the patience I must keep; to feeling the explosion of a fragile, fine, glass vase under the weight and force of a sledgehammer.

My ideas and beliefs on myself scattered in infinite directions - some a faint arrogance in the belief that I can run to bigger and better things. Other thoughts welcome the suffering I will endure in the wake of the fact that you and I will never be.

I can try drown myself in music, writing songs that might one day catch your ear. I could draw, paint or sculpt objects of infinite beauty to erase your incredible smile that inspires fireworks to explode in my chest each instant I bear witness to it. Even conquering the world is possible with all the sleepless nights that are sure to follow

But nothing can be poured into the void left by the sledgehammer to lighten your absence. Nothing except the touch of your soft, winter lips on mine; where they belong

Now do I realise

Only now have I realised that I no longer care if the things I say are right or wrong; only that they are the truth.

In my isolation from the comfortable world I have known, I've reconnected with the spirit laying inside me that I've battered and hurt in bouts of self-deprecation, bottomless bottles of false empty promises and believing the evil little voice that is so believable when times turn doubtful or bleak.

"He always knows what to say, how to kick my spirit while it lays defeated on the ground. Words like trust and calm are replaced by doubt and panic, the blue calm overpowered by red and green, anger and envy so powerful that he takes over from the inside out"

But now I've reconnected with that battered corner of myself I have driven him away. I have healed like the transformation of a ship being terrorised in the eye of a storm into water as smooth as glass.

Now do I realise that with the evil me driven away from inside, all the thoughts of self-hat have vanished, and have been replaced by thoughts of only love for myself, for others, for the entire world.

"Now my mind is clear, and my physical self is ready and able, I wish to bridge the gap between my physical and metaphysical self and explore unity across all planes. I journey into the unknown, looking for something which takes a form I do not know, but will recognise instantly when I encounter it. Along this journey I will pick up broken pieces of myself and venture forward, awaiting completion."

And when I complete my inner voyage, I will wait for you. I will wait hours, weeks on end in silence, ever present.
I will wait because you are the last piece I need to mend this broken spirit

The Puzzle Theory

I believe the human brain will always remain a dead spot in anatomical knowledge; not because of the amount of funding of the amount of research, but because the mind of each individual is different - all of our minds will remain a puzzle to even ourselves

Lets think about it; we are born and all the pieces are there - our physical bodies, our muscles and blood and bones, like the pieces of a puzzle that will take our lifetime to assemble. As we move through life we are dealt factors that we have no control over; our name, our family, the colour of our eyes - and thus the border of the puzzle is complete, all that's left is to fill the inside with all of the pieces we were given

Some like to find there own way of completing the puzzle, independent from spiritual beliefs or governing enforcements. Others look to a divine force to assist in completing the puzzle through God and religion. The people we meet and the places we see, the music we hear and the food we taste all help us build the puzzle, some parts join easily, others are forcibly connected. Some pieces don't connect at all

We can even find ourselves accompanied by someone else, and our pieces of the puzzle are identical in places, yet different in others; we can help them build their puzzle, or they can help us build ours. The point is, even the most simplistic, instinctive things such as love, emotion, disease and even existence itself are a puzzle.
"Why would I feel this way when I am so uncertain?"
"How am I so confused when the answer is so clear?"
"Why is this person suffering?"
"What is my purpose in this life?"

Most people spend their whole life trying to complete their puzzle but never succeed:
Some are taken too early, like a flower ripped from the ground before it could blossom
Others have a puzzle too big to complete, no matter the countless sleepless nights or hours of pondering that might lead them along the most productive and correct path
In fact some spend so long trying to help others complete their puzzle and forget about the one they are trying to construct themselves - leaving it dusty, faded and bare in a forgotten corner

But for the ones that do complete the puzzle; the very, very  few and far, far between;  I believe that even they do not know how they did it. For although we all start out as the same pile of pieces, we can end up as very different works of art. The beauty of life is that it will forever remain a puzzle:
All will attempt it, few will complete it.
The reason why remains, well, a puzzle

Reconstruction

Home.
I have returned.
To a place I belong, yet am somewhat unable to truly fit in, due to the things that differ from the life I lead; such as where the cups go in the kitchen cupboards, what night the rubbish gets taken away and the presence of family at any hour of the day

Returning to the job as a casual to fill in time, gain some perspective, earn some money and to motivate your desires, your ambitions and your dreams

Returning to old friends, remembering the reasons why we love them, how we fell in love with them and the activities used to pass the time, express yourself with each other and to smile, for despite the differences, despite the change, true friends will always be like a house under renovation; different in a familiar and predictable way, a change welcome to most, unwelcome to few.

But I have also returned to surprises, surprises for myself, for others, and in the most unlikely places of all, a glimmer of hope that my destiny can be shaped by the entrance of another significant figure in my life. Fear, vulnerability and of course the potential for pain lay awaiting your every move.

I have returned as a man able to shape my own destiny, my own fate.
If I am to follow a happy and joyful path, My spirit and I need to step back and view the outcomes; the destination of happiness requires a path to be built that I have never trod before. Now as I lie awake, thinking of you, I demolish my previous paths in my mind, reconstructing them in the hope you might like to join me just for a while in my pursuit of happiness

Giving In

Defeat - a word that sits bittersweet in the mouth.

Bitter because it hurts to know the outcome that you believe is the right one doesn't work out

"What can you change? Sometimes the cards dealt are in your favour, sometimes they are not."

Sweet, because the suffering you put yourself through can begin, but also eventually end. But filling the void that defeat leaves isn't easy. Substances diffuse out, burning the void deeper and deeper.

Staying happy and positive is a challenge, but manageable at first. 

Slowly and slowly, hand after hand, cards stop falling your way. 

The loved ones we miss fade away, their memories growing thinner and thinner, more transparent.

People we need to support us buckle, unknowingly how much their support means to you

Your happiness becomes a pursuit that fades into a limp, the tough, happy, upbeat exterior seems superficial and pointless. Slowly, your laugh gets quieter and quieter, the glow of your spirit grows dimmer and dimmer still. 

Defeat slowly chips away from your spirit and becomes a force that is eventually unstoppable. Knocking you off your feet and pushing you towards the gaping hole in your spirit you've tried to fill. Fighting, but like all unstoppable forces, you are powerless to resist as you face the edge of the void you created.

Finally, the instant before the final surge against you hits, you give up.

You fall, letting your own darkness consume you

Sleepless Night

Sometimes a sleepless night can seem to never end. The infinite amount of thoughts free in your head, roaming left and right to drag your attention away from sleep begin to burn questions into your mind, fears into your being, coldness into the very core of spirit.

"What have I done that was wrong?"

The days event's mulled over and over in your mind, like reruns of a terrible film you are forced to watch unfold over and over and over until your stomach feels so heavy and dense you know the urge to be sick approaches

"Have I said something again?"

You trace the words you said over and over, remembering each facial expression your words caused, the frowns, the wry smiles. Baffled you lie - there were no awkward silences, no offensive statements that escaped your lips today.

"What is wrong with me?"

You say that as a statement more so than a question. You know all the things that are wrong with you. Your imperfections, your twisted sense of humour, your arrogance, the list is endless. But you hid all of these things today. You were PERFECT. Not a single part of the persona you displayed today was wrong.

"Did I do anything right?"

Now you frantically search for any sign that you have a chance, a shot, a magic bullet that might possibly convince another chance. Redemption. One last opportunity to convince everyone you interacted with today that you are a good person.

"Good person. I may be a good person, but I'm not a good enough person. Knowing that makes the wish for sleep a light in the distance. An illusive beacon on the horizon"

By this point of the night, (as ever insomniac knows) if you find relief in sleep, then you will wish to never wake again

Swallowing Myself

Its incredible how viewing yourself in a new light changes your perspective on things.
Cutting your hair a different way can give you the chance to show off the flair you deserve to have recognised
Dressing like a celebrity and smiling like a camera is always on you boosts your self esteem when you need it the most
And a morning run can make you feel like all your problems, the stupid things you've done can be left behind. The morning coffee you sip while you eat your breakfast can help you swallow your pride, giving you the power to change for the better.

If I swallowed my arrogance, quietened down rather than drowning others out with my loud compensating extroverted behavior, would I get a chance to redeem myself?
I could silence the critics in my head and their beliefs of me being an unstable mess by holding down a stable, loving, caring commitment. I could spoil you, cherish you, make you the queen of everything you see if I was given the chance, a blessing, the nod of approval.

"Pour my soul into the cup and I will drink until I am all gone. Take me as your own, do with me what you wish"

As I swallow my own spirit, nearing the bottom of my cup, wave after wave pours over me, filling the room, washing away my life, filling my lungs.

"She'll take your head, and pull you under. When you awake, drowning, she'll be yours. But you will be gone"

Hating One's Self/ The Real Me

God, I hate myself sometimes.

Simply put I am a sub standard version of the person I desire to be, but I do not pursue or alter my behavior in any way to make myself better.
I swear too much, over the pettiest things, I get so raw with my emotions and so frustrated within myself that it burns. I lose control, I get scared and panic fills me. I count in my head and hold my breath...

                Then in an instant I am a calm ocean after the devastating storm, settled, predictable. I hate my split personalities - the two personas constantly fighting to be the victim of the standards set way too high of my conscience.

I hate how I allow myself to be vulnerable; be that vulnerable to daydreaming about the things that cannot be, or the things that once were that will never return
I hate myself so much that I almost don't care if I hurt myself, the seeming arrogance seen on the outside is just a way to inflate my ego so someone can bring me crashing down to reality.
I wish that I could accept who I was at heart and allow myself to just erase all the opinions and statements people make about me. Because I may seem like a loud, extroverted person, oozing confidence.

But the real me is shy, daydreaming in the corner, keeping to themselves with a tiny smile. He is loving, compassionate, honest and kind and he would never do you any harm.
The problem is that he hasn't met anyone for what feels like a lifetime.

Letting another person in deep enough to see who I really am; beyond how messed up everything else is from my messed up past to the certainty of my messed up future, is a scary thought. But given the chance, the real me would take over and my split personalities would stop being bruised by my impossible-to-please conscience and make way for the real me.

I can make you happy, I can make anyone feel like they are the only person in the world that matters.
If you ever meet the real me, the chances are that I have already begun falling for you and all the amazing things you have

So when you meet the real me and I do fall, please, please catch me

The Key

Beginning to take pride and joy out of the small things is reconstructing my spirit. Things such dressing like a millionaire in second-hand clothes and walking in the sun brings a genuine smile to my face. Other things like sharing my favorite music with a friend as if each lyric is an untold story belonging to my soul helps smooth over the cracks of my fragile mind, gradually reinforcing who I am.

I might not have a net worth of 10 figures, but I have experiences, memories and a future surrounded by the people who make me feel like I've made progress. In the end you might not need a jetski to be happy; being yourself and loving everyone around you is enough for me

My Mask

Calm is a sensation I rarely display, let alone feel. On the rare occasion where my outside appearance is collected, often my insides are screaming deafening curses in my ears

"Why even bother to believe in yourself? You stand and fight like a pathetic lamb trying to delay your inevitable slaughter. I give it seconds before the seemingly impregnable cracks expand into bottomless canyons of doubt"

While my mind and conscience wrestle, I will myself to remain calm. I try everything, anxious thoughts filling my head, quivering my lip, peeling my calm mask away

And then you arrive. Knocking on my daydream door with perfect timing once again. The violent waves crashing against the fragile walls of my being settle into calmer waters. I picture us moving gently on a lake, alone and happy. For a moment, the soothing sensation releases my bluff and I am actually displaying the emotion I feel around your beautiful smiling face

"Let's stay here, alone and free; we can be wherever you want to be. If you want to climb the highest mountain or swim the widest river we can"

The cold grip of reality yanks me from our meetings in my daydreams, however calm I may be when our spirits meet, the moment you disappear I get momentarily transported to that chilling March morning, where all the pain and suffering inside me exploded, crippling my spirit with the constant anxiety of your loss.

Then after my brief flashback I find myself back in to the present. Where my calm mask slips from my face and shatters into an uncountable amount of anxious pieces

Shells

I am a flawed person - I am an imperfect creature that is capable of destruction, pain and utter dismay.  I have evolved to have a coarse outer layer that deliberately disagrees with people and shapes their opinions of me.
I can seem like a loud, extroverted personality that thrives on the company of others, as if to say that I reject the quiet comfort and the beautiful silences introverts yearn for.
But under all the layers of my shell is a quiet, shy persona - only a select few will ever get to meet him; for he is a part of myself that has felt the pain and destruction I am capable of in full force.
If you ever meet this side to me you will see that I am also capable of compassion, loyalty and love. Even the hardest of shells remains soft on the inside

Square One

Oh how I miss the burn, the delight and the dimming of the inner cry that only the bottle, needle or the vial can bring. One moment you have it all at your feet, a comforting numb happiness that you understand only when its gone - snatched from your grasp by something totally out of your control
Who can you turn to? The world leans on you like a beggar against an ancient Roman pillar; and like the pillar you feel your insides turning to stone - the comfort in your numbness turns to black and white - the world around you fades to a grey backdrop and you are surrounded by the loneliness and silence that is deafening around you

"At first I thought my black and white world was beautiful"

Light slowly seeps from my world, the numbness aches in my hauntingly beautiful dreams that you visit. The red tinge to your spirit is the only other hue my world seems capable of expressing; I remain unsure as to weather it is a symbol of your ongoing suffering, a symbol of my love and yearning for you, or a symbol for my blood; the blood I wish so eagerly to spill to be reunited with you

"Now my world has evolved, personified. We dance around each other, appearing as a pair to the outside world, however in reality I am being consumed and manipulated like a puppet, my world is now my cage"

Now I try anything to free myself from the enclosure that is my reality and my dreams. My spirit stumbles along the journey like a crippled fighter, refusing to fall but awaiting for that final crippling blow that will push me to commit to the darkness consuming me. Bottles are drained, horrific thoughts and beliefs spill onto canvases of sight and sound, physically and metaphysically. I keep fighting the urge, yet awaiting the final blow to release me from my prison.

"Now we are one - I am consumed by my world, its desires are mine. Aimlessly I wander, longing for my imprisonment to end - but each thought of her face adds centuries to my already infinite sentence in this darkness. Not even the bright red that signifies the presence of your spirit can light my way forward. I remain stuck on square one"

Desperate I am to try to escape, to chase the light that seemingly exists at the end of the tunnel. But I cannot see it. I remain stuck in evenings with strangers, with many smiling friendly faces that I push away, introversion the only thing appealing to my battered spirit. I think back to when we were united in this somewhere. I long for the comfortable happiness I miss.
So honest and perfect
So pure and adored
No more

"At last I raise my glass - with an Hallelujah.
Hallelujah until I am nothing
Hallelujah until she is everywhere
Hallelujah until together we are somewhere beyond the first square." 

I move on alone - waiting for my next life to arrive and sweep me away from the persona of the pillar that remains like an ironic deformity in my being
In my next life I can drown in all the bottles, vials and powder I please - I will not be the strong one holding another's world up.
I will be the drunken beggar curled up at its base, pleading with anyone who will listen to free me from myself.
However even in the next life I can already see the stifling cruelty; nobody knows my history - they only see a helpless drunk stuck in his alcoholic prison. Stuck in his own depressing ways.
They cannot see me, begging to be dragged away from the pillar; begging for the thrust towards the light; begging to crawl out of square one.

Rose Tainted Glasses

In the end I guess I'm just a monochromatic, melodramatic man who, despite  the insides and outsides of self portraits, could never understand the complexes of reality that get seen through the rose tainted glasses he wears. The truth is, looking at life is a difficult thing to do when you can easily glance toward the wrong place at the wrong time and witness a sight that changes the very core of your spirit and your beliefs. In the end it might not be reasonable to view the world in such an optimistic light - often when I reflect on my perspective of the world I understand that I need to do a lot of growing up.

However I would rather look at the world and see happiness, despite how small it may find its form, than to look at the reality with no filter and have the joy sucked from my core

No Matter

Whenever you need to tell me the little things about your day I will listening.

No matter how small you think of your achievements, how useless you believe your day was, how insignificant you feel;

I will be here

Listening

Smiling

and forever yours

Free Spirit

It's probably next to impossible to put up with me and all my messed up things; My unresolved anger at almost anything, the moods that swing beneath the masking of the shell I've built around myself in an attempt to convince the world I'm stable.
And then a single thought of you and its gone: the gentle persona I long to have takes over me and my anger disappears, replaced with the thought of hope.
I hope that you are happy, I hope that you are in a better place, I hope with every ounce of my being that your spirit is free and guiding mine home to the path from which I've strayed
But in the hope lies the underlying, acknowledging truth that I miss you more and more each day

Seperated Paths

Her voice was like a bread-knife poking ever so softly into your chest, not welcoming, not uncomfortable. Thoughts of kissing her flashed through my mind as I willingly suffered at the hands of the icy breeze in the damp, seedy city air. Of all the incredible experiences my day had contained, meeting her was the best of them - yet I could say nothing to tell her of this. So many insignificant things managed to get our paths to cross, yet none significant enough to unite them, even for the smallest of moments. Morning has come, my path drifts from yours, unknown if our journeys will cross again