Goodbye Rosy

Goodbye Rosy, budding young author. We love you.

http://weirdo.bur.st/2008/08/31/my-little-sister-29th-august-2008/

My everything

Fingertips
Tracing patterns on my skin
Your breath caresses me
I shiver.

Brush the hair out of my eyes
I run my fingers over your lips
Feeling the ridges and grooves I know so well
Sink deep into your kiss.

Your warmth
Your love
Fills me up
And I overflow

We.

Alone.

Broken.

Crying.

We found each other.

Each seeing an angel

Both feeling undeserving.

Brush the dirt off my knees

Hold me safe in your arms

Kiss me better, and never let me go

We whisper

And so, lovingly,

We comply.

That Crushing Feeling.

Imagine.

You’re standing on a really really really high bridge. (You’re not scared of heights are you?)

A little way off you see one of your friends. (For the purpose of this exercise, lets say, someone you’ve known for a few years, and have come to love.)

He’s walking towards you, oblivious to the world, listening to music and just wandering on…

But behind him, you see an enormous metal ball. It would weigh a good few hundred tonnes. It’s so big that it would take a week of continuous walking to get out of its way. Which is ironic, because it is slowly rolling towards him, picking up speed. You, because of your vantage spot, can see that even if he could run faster than 36km an hour, (which, as you and I know, is the Guinness world record,) he would never get out of the way of the ball. There is no way he can get to safety. Nowhere to hide or escape to.

You can see the ball rolling towards him. You can tell that there is less than a day before it reaches him.

One day.

There is nothing you can do to save him, because you are trapped on the bridge, forced to watch.

You have a choice.

You can call out to him. He will turn, see the ball, and have a whole day to live through, with the knowledge that in less than twenty-four hours, he will be, literally, crushed.

Or you can stand on your safe bridge and helplessly watch.

Your safe haven will be rocked by the impact, but you will be safe, no matter what you choose.

Do you let him enjoy his final day in peaceful oblivion, happy and carefree?

Or make him endure the agony of knowing that he is going to die, but can do nothing to save himself, nothing but watch his fate roll closer… closer…

How do you make a decision like that?

You do nothing. You wait until it is over. And only then are you able to leave your safe place, and cradle the crushed body. And cry for them.

Roller Coaster

Roller Coaster

For Adam

 

Life

     Twists and turns

                              Throws you upside down

                                                                     Loop the loop

                                                                                          And around again

                                                                                                                     Uncontrollable

                                                                                                                                            Incredible highs

                        Only to push you down lower than before

                                                                                         Exhilarating

                                                                                                           Terrifying

 

Looking out of the car that you’re strapped into

                                                                           Your prison

                                                                                            You see the rest of the world

 

Having fun on the paddleboats

                                                Coasting along

                                                                      In complete control

                                                                                                    And you ask why

 

Why did they not have to go through what you do?

                                                                               Why were you chosen?

                                                                                                                  To be thrown around

 

Hurt

      Scared

               Alone?

                          Look around

                                             There are others on this roller coaster

                                                                                                       But no one makes eye contact

 

You might as well be in complete and utter solitude

                                                                                               

So why you?

                  Who knows?

                                      Everyone on the ground below sees you

                                                                                                    Screaming

                                                                                                                   They think it’s fun

 

They think you are having the time of your life

                                                                          So you wave

                                                                                             Smile

You have no choice as to where you are

                                                               So maybe

                                                                              Its best

                                                                                        Just to sit back

Enjoy the thrilling highs

                                      Endure the frightening lows

                                                                                 And wait for the ride to end

Until you’re safe

                          On solid ground

                                                   And will be able to say

                                                                                            Look

                                                                                                       I made it through

                                                                                                                                    I survived.

Pink knew what she was talking about…

No matter what I do

They only see what I didn’t do

No matter what I say

They only hear what they want to hear

 

 I do my best

But my best is not good enough

I try my hardest

Yet I do it wrong

 

When will they see?

They’re what is killing me

Will they ever open their eyes,

And see me for me?

 

They say

                                “You have a bad attitude”

                                                            “Don’t be rude”

        “That’s enough of your nonsense”

                                            “What are you whining about now?

 

 

I’m only crying

Crying for love lost

Their love lost

 

Crying for the unfairness

Injustice

Pain

 

There are bigger problems in the world

                                                            “Stop being so selfish”

They’re trying their best

                                  “ I do everything for you, and yet I get nothing in return”  

 

 

I try my best too

Try to be heard

Try to be seen

 

If I explain my side

My feelings

My views

                “Stop back-talking me”

 

 

If I don’t do enough

To reach their expectations

                                                “Go the extra mile”

                        “Pull your socks up”

 

 

But when they don’t reach my expectations

They’re not supposed to

It’s not a failure on their behalf

                                                “You shouldn’t have such high expectations of people”

                        “Don’t be stupid”

 

 

When will they see me?

When will they hear my voice?

When will they know?

 

That I am as good as them too

I can reason as well as them

Think as well as them

Understand as well as them

 

That I am human

Just like them

 

“It’s hypocritical of you

Do as you say not as you do

I’ll never be your perfect girl”

 

It’s a nice thought, but…

“Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure.”

 

Marianne Williamson

 

Ever had one of those moments, where you hear something really inspirational, and all around you, people are smiling and nodding, and agreeing… and in your heart, you really want to smile and nod and agree too… but there’s that quiet voice that whispers those five deadly words…

 

“ It’s a nice thought, but…”

 

It’s a nice thought, but. But it’s illogical. But it’s impossible. But it’s untrue.

In all my heart, I want to believe that my deepest fear is my power. With all my strength, I try and convince myself that it’s true. I’ll preach it and teach it until the ninety-nine people I’ve told believe it, and are the ones smiling and nodding and telling others.

 

But.

 

I’m not Marianne Williamson. And so telling me that I fear my own power doesn’t make sense.

 

Because. It’s a nice thought, but… my deepest fear is my inadequacy.

 

You can tell me I’m wrong. You can tell me that I’m not supposed to feel that way. You can tell me that I am powerful beyond measure.

 

But that doesn’t change the facts.

 

Because I feel what I feel, and nothing you can say will change that. You can inspire me with brilliant speeches. You can touch me with acts of kindness. You can show me what I’m capable of. But in the end, it’s up to me.

 

Because who I am is who I am.

 

And sometimes, the best thing you can do for me, is not try and change my mind.

 

But rather, simply acknowledge my feelings as being valid. And do nothing else.

 

And who knows? Maybe one day, I will be standing in front of you, saying

 

“Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure.”

 

And all around you, people will be smiling and nodding and agreeing. But those five words creep into your mind…

 

“ It’s a nice thought, but…”

But that’s just not the way life is.

He Ain’t Heavy

Sitting on the shore, the river smoothing flowing by, surrounded by a crowd of girls, but all alone, she watches. A young aboriginal family has a picnic a few metres away… a few of the children running around in next to nothing and in the case of the youngest, even less. They are running around, playing, yelling, swimming, all under the careful eye of their mother. A little girl, dark as the tree bark, wandered over, smiling shyly. She smiled back, but the little girl was soon called by her mother, and so a more interesting sight distracted the silent watcher. Further along the shore, a cute boy rode his bike towards a family seated at a table, and then skidded to a stop. Obviously part of the group, he was soon laughing and joking with all present, Including a younger boy who looked very similar to him, like a brother. Only, he was strapped into an electric wheelchair, his limbs emaciated and withered, his body decrepit, like an old mans, even though he couldn’t have been more then fourteen. As she watched, the older boy pulled his shirt off, and shaking his mop of hair, bent down to his brother. Placing one hand around his shoulder, he gathered up the shriveled legs with certain tenderness. Slipping his arm around the frail body, he stood up with ease. Gently, he carried him down to the waters edge, then continued to wade into the water. The disabled boy’s arm was balanced precariously around his protector’s neck, but his eyes, bright and strong, beamed trust. When his unusable legs just touched the water, his brother gently lowered himself into the water, supporting him all the way. On the banks, his unknown observer felt tears rise in her eyes. Here was the most brilliant display of love she had ever seen acted out, every touch, every motion simply shouted to the world how much he loved his brother, yet the many people sitting on the shoreline were oblivious to everything. The two brother spent half an hour in the water, mostly just letting it wash over them, and during the whole time, the guardian never let him slip, never let him fall. As he gathered his brother in his arms and lifted him out of the water, a song floated through the mind of the young girl watching them…. But I’m strong, strong enough to carry him, he ain’t heavy, he’s my brother.
“…

So on we go
His welfare is of my concern
No burden is he, to bear
We’ll get there
For I know
He would not encumber me
He ain’t heavy, he’s my brother

If I’m laden at all
I’m laden with sadness
That everyone’s heart
Isn’t filled with the gladness
Of love for one another

It’s a long, long road
From which there is no return
While we’re on our way to there
Why not share

And the load
Doesn’t weigh me down at all
He ain’t heavy, he’s my brother
He ain’t heavy, he’s my brother.”

- He Ain’t Heavy (Neil Diamond)

Flip a coin.

“Heads or tails?”

You know exactly which side you want it to land on when it’s in the air. Who said that? Some one famous. It doesn’t matter. Famous, popular, cool, right. Wrong, outcast, crazy, different. All labels. All opinions. All unnecessary. But that’s an opinion too. Which would you prefer? Cool or uncool? Normal or different? Right or wrong? Who decides what’s what? Did they just flip a coin? Orange is this season, green was last. She’s cool, he’s not. They all were born normal. They weren’t. They’re deformed. Who decided? Someone else once said, “a weed is just a flower no one has appreciated yet.” why don’t we have that kind of theory concerning people? Why are some people pulled up and thrown away by society, simply because they’re different. People aren’t beautiful and ugly. People that landed with the tails side of the looks department are differently beautiful. It’s just a matter of finding it. We live in such a shallow society. Black and white. No shades of grey. The perfect people snub the imperfects. The tails side can never live up to the head side. All on a toss of a coin.

Head or tails?

Bubbles

Blowing bubbles

Floating upwards

Happiness

Nothing can stop me now

Reaching out

Bouncing off obstacles

And then,

bursting

Something was too strong

maybe not big

but too strong

Or someone reached out

and touched me

in the weak spot

Bang

Downwards spiral

Depression

But I’ll continue blowing bubbles

and sometimes,

just sometimes,

One or two

reach into heaven

and there is

Hope.