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