Erlend

Broken
ended deeds
Wither away
Wither away.

I asked
If shadows
Have names
To silence.

Colder
And older
Inside
And out.

Broken
ended deeds
Wither away
Wither away.

Bounce

I've learned some things today.

It's nice to know that I'm not the only one who worries about breathing too loudly when I have headphones on.

It's good to know I can be selfish and not feel bad about it.

It's awesome to sleep 'til I'm satisfied as a Cheshire cat.

It's okay to be scared, and It's okay to fail.

It's alright to feel that lump in your throat for more than just sadness.

It's fun to sing into a hairbrush at the top of your lungs.

It's okay to pretend.

It's wonderful to lie still and just listen to yourself breathe.

It's good to be flattered, and better to accept a compliment.

It's alright to miss home.

It's okay to do things for yourself and nobody else.

It's good to remember the good, the bad and the ugly.

It's easy to forgive, but better to ignore.

It's good to be here, and be me.

Necessity

There are some who walk with us that will never understand that the world is more than black and white; more than you, or I, and more than what is said and done.

There are some that speak of faith, whilst never understanding faith's meaning, and some that will forever need to shout to be heard by both their gods and their demons.

There are those who will speak out of anger, and never admit to their faults, or see what they have created out of illusion. Those who will point out others missteps before overcoming theirs.

There are others still who will learn to live by the virtues of others, forever shadowed by their own reluctance to forgive, and those who will tear down those of virtue stemming from their own jealousy and shame.

There is fault, and there is speaking of them. There are consequences for more than the ones who choose to speak, thus every action is given a choice in the universal order. I may choose to slander by calling it something else..or I may choose to hold my tongue and see the other side of the same coin.

One need not forget in order to forgive, but those who hold on will never move forward to embrace the new; so hung up by the old they be. We can analyse, interpret and interpret again their actions until we bleed dry..but nothing will ever come of it. It could be based on rage..on pain..on jealousy. There is only so much others can do.

So, we learn to live by forgiving those who speak without thinking, and those who can't see past their own thoughts for the bigger picture; to consider thoughts, opinions and feelings not of their own. We learn to master our moods..the delicate balancing act one performs to be a better person; having a heart free from hatred

And thus, we survive..as a race, as a planet, for all these many reasons. The shades of grey between right and wrong, our opinions and theirs, and most of all, the bonds that we hold dear between ourselves.

The choice of whether to hold ones tongue, or hold ones anger is based on pride..and we all know that pride is every great man's downfall. So we forgive, and we forget..

If only for the bonds we hold dear, and the bonds we choose to break.

Snap.

I need a break.
I need to break something.

Mirage

There's something about train stations..

It's larger than all of us. Something I can only touch upon, but is open and felt every heart. The combination of sounds..smells..and even sights turn into a beautiful painting, of which we are part of.

Its the smell of engine oil..slick and powerful. There's power behind that smell that makes you heady..makes you breathe harder and deeper.

There's the train itself when it pulls into the station..A mirage appearing in mist..headlights cutting swathes through the darkness of night. A powerful beast straining to slow..

Those sounds of the train itself..groaning to a stop, squealing against the tracks and the doors creaking open to let those who travel within it spill upon the pavements in euphoria.

The passengers bring with them a myriad of emotions, for stations are where lovers meet and lovers part. A place of inspiration poets have long known, and writers cherished.

Finally, we have the station itself. Its heavy dome with heavy beams..light that pools between columns, lending to the intricate mosaics on patterned floor. It is in this light that people emerge..bright, where dust motes dance and travelers seek warmth for stiff legs and stiff bones.

It is this warmth, too, that emanates from those waiting with open arms..and it is this warmth which makes the journey worthwhile.

Inspired

She Followed

They spun and hung in the twisted air
She reached to grab and take
They flew away far from her grasp
And fell upon the beating lake

The waves they pulsed up from the deep
Causing such a stir
She put her ear down to the earth
And felt her own heart purr

The music seethed between her legs
Allaying all her fears
She sunk into its deep embrace
And was lost amongst the tears

They speak of her, yet to this day
The girl who walked away
She was but chasing music notes
When dancing with the fey.

Thank you for the inspiration.

Stream

Theres smoke rising from the crematorium and I wonder who is being burnt.

I see..smoke..rising..and there is someones soul floating away with it. Up, somewhere.

Take me with you.

I wouldn't mind riding that smoky wave..not being able to feel it, or taste it. The taste of smoke is guttural..like gunpowder on your tongue. Your smell and taste combine to produce chalkiness on your tongue.

Like Mary Poppins' stairway to heaven.

And I see myself in my reflection. There are tears on my reflection. Raindrops on the reflection's face. Where did the tears go, and did they dry up on the solid me? I have to breathe.

Open the window. Must breathe. And I bite my lip so hard I bleed. Gasp. And the reflection is gone. Shattered and warped and gone with its false tears.

Too many pills.. Too much vodka.. Theres no reason to still feel. I'll fail. And the heater flicks on and off. And There are tears on the solid me. And, how odd. My breath is short and gasping. And my eyes..they don't see..and my lips taste blood..

You can taste it. But you cannot feel it. The pills work. The alcohol works.

They were all yellow..

I dreamed about my Volvo. It was a bicycle..I rode in the rain. With my sat nav on the handlebars. I could go underwater. but only in the dark. And it was numb and cold in the water. It flooded at night..and I rode on, on my Volvo. In the dark, wet cold.

I fell off my Volvo and my sat nav broke..I woke up in a pool of sweat and tears.

Poor Volvo.

The colours have gone now. Everything is a shade of grey..my eyes burn from the salt and the pain and I blink, again and again. Still grey. Blink, again and again.

There is more pain. In the heart. It is science. Bits in the mind related to physical pain activate from the heart. The heartbroken. The ache is real.

There's salt on my face. I don't like it. It dries hard. My face cracks. Crunchy skin. Grey, in the dark.

My foot's fallen asleep. My back is shattered. My mind is numb. My hair is wet. My head hurts.

I am unhappy, like you said. I only write when I'm sad. Yes, you said.

Everyone is right except me.

Dream

I had a dream in which I died.

I don't know what to make of it. Part of me was in shock when I awoke..the other part of me had already accepted it. So now I know what it feels like to die twice in one lifetime, which is more than most people can claim.

It (the dream) got me thinking. If I did die, nobody would know.. at least, not for a few days.
My house-mates would assume I was out. My family would not know for days. In fact, that is what makes me sad. That they would be the last to know.

It reminds me of my mission in life..I am marked beyond my power and understanding in order to save those who need saving. I do not claim to be a savior, or a martyr, but I have made a difference and will continue to do so.

Loneliness. One can be surrounded by people and yet still be alone. I have felt this many days in a row. I blame myself. So do they..but really, we are not alone when we learn to reach out.

I am guilty. Guilty of pushing away those who get close. I fear, and always will. So do they. But the first steps are always scary, and we ought not to be afraid.

A wise book once told me that there is no place in the world for those who are nice. We are selfish creatures. We do not always need, but will take freely what is given away.

I am nice. I have been nice. I am tired of being nice. So are they. We should learn from this that what we are, we are. It is hard to change a heart, and one goes through pain and suffering to surfeit what is actually a gift.

We are forgiven for being nice..forgiven for being cruel, because we do not know otherwise. We ought to forgive them for not knowing the sadness within, for they do not understand and do not see. Do not forget this.

Do not forget..and when you learn this, teach me how to remember, too.

Missing

I know you...I walked with you once upon a dream..
I know you...

I miss home today. I miss familiarity...if not so much the warmth.

Baby mine, don't you cry
Baby mine, dry your eyes
Rest your head close to my heart
Never to part, baby of mine

I'm missing something...but for the life of me, I cannot tell what. Maybe its the simplicity of life as it should be. I feel like life has gotten cluttered.

But writing that did not get the lump out of my throat..so it must be something else. Maybe I'm just alone. Like everyone else in the world...wanting to be heard.

I had a lovely bath tonight. It was ruined by accusation. I suppose I hate being accused of things I didn't do. Pity..I was going to sleep so sweetly...and now I can't/won't. I hate ungratefulness, if it can be said as such.

I need a hug.

Attitude

There are many, many things stirring inside me today; namely anger, disappointment and sadness.

My anger stems from lack of understanding. In which righteousness seems to prevail in its most ludicrous ways. Why do we compete to be the one 'in the right'? Why? Is it not a pointless, futile exercise? Would it not be so much easier to back down for once, and just admit being 'in the wrong'. So why do we fight, then? Why do we butt heads for no reasons, and cause immense pain, which leads to more fighting, and more misunderstanding. I do not understand, and I am angry.

My disappointment stems from lack of similarity. Everyone is told to be who they want to be, and they will strive, strive, and strive to be what they want to be..and yet, we are punished for not conforming to norms. We are punished for being different, if punished is the right word.. Similarity is all fair and good, but why are we so accepting of people's individuality only to criticize their shortcomings and differences? You do not understand, and I am disappointed.

My sadness stems from deep inside. From all the little things that hurt my heart, and from the beast that takes them willingly. This beast slumbers, inside me now. Once upon a time it would have roared, demanded, wanted and taken, but after so long a time of being unfulfilled, it sleeps. It tries to sleep, in pain, and worn down with pain, because that is all there is left to feed it. I want to understand, and I am sad.

Maybe the glass is really half full. I admire the fact that some people have the audacity to believe they can make it through life's ups and downs simply by being ignorant..after all, ignorance is bliss, is it not? But is it right, is it right for one to be ignorant, and to have their keeper watch over them when life's lemons are thrown?

Is it wrong to be right...or is it simply not right to be wrong? What do we gain except anger, disappointment and pain. We gain no strength from these mistakes, yet show no weaknesses. Our cracks in deep foundations go unnoticed, like the slumbering beast which, who knows, may never wake.

So pour what you will in that glass, and if it cracks, or we stay to sip, lets hope we don't numb more than we should.

If

Fill these spaces up with days
In my room
you can go you can stay
I can't sleep,
I can't speak to you
I can't sleep

Now these years locked in my drawer
I'll open to see just to be sure

I can't sleep,
I can't speak to you
I can't sleep

And So I'm reaching out for the one
And So I've learned the meaning of the sun
And all this like a message comes to shift my point of view
And watching it pull my own light as it tips a shade of you

Hold my wine hold it in
no bodys lost
but no body wins

And I can't sleep
I can't speak to you
I can't sleep

And So I'm reaching out for the one

And So I've learned the meaning of the sun
And All this like a message to shift my point of view
I'm watching through my own light as it turns the shade of you

I can't sleep
I can't speak to you
I can't sleep
I can't speak to you
I can't sleep
I can't speak to you
I can't sleep
I can't speak to you
I can't sleep
I can't speak to you

The more you see, the less you know, the less you find out as you go..Don't look before you laugh, look ugly in a photograph, flash bulbs, purple irises, the camera can't see..

I am recalling the times that used to be. The times where I never said "If Only". The times when I didn't have the time to say so. Having a job and being a working woman again reminds me of those long, long nights. I took days as they came. The days that I simply used to get through by breathing, by doing what I was told. Those were sad, empty days. Long days that never left your heart warm or full. The times where I'd cry myself to sleep, and the times where I'd be too tired to cry myself to sleep. Those were the days.

There are times to this day, when the heart hurts for no reason. These times border on hysteria. Today, my heart swelled with such happiness I burst into tears. Other times it has swelled with such sadness that I laugh..this only serves the purpose of reminding me that my head and heart are connected in the most...perverse ways.

Is this what I want to do? Is there something I could have done, or said, that would have changed my life? Or changed someone else's? Now, of all times, I find myself wondering, 'If Only'..

If only..

If only I thought with my head, and not with my heart.

If only I could cry on my own, but not alone.

If only I could be who I am not.

If only life was a movie with a happy ending.

If only things really are easier than they seem.

If only my hair wouldn't fall like it does.

If only I didn't choose to be a psychologist.

If only I had time.

If only I didn't have to choose.

If only people would understand.

If only I could do things right in one go, and never make mistakes.

If only I wasn't human.

If only I didn't want, need, and ask for.

If only I wasn't selfish.

If only love didn't hurt.

If only I could sleep.

If only.

Sunshine

It is sunny today.

It feels wonderful when you feel warmth spread over your face, and a breeze stroke your cheek.

I miss the sunshine. There are a lot of things I miss.

I miss blogging. Revisiting my old realm has stirred something within me, so I woke to answer the call. It comes naturally, to write, as I've said many a time before. I like the soothing effect it has on me, when I spill my thoughts to the world, and when emotion and truth are laid bare.

I miss a lot of things.

And now the mood is gone.

The Long Road

This week has been strange, to say the least.
3 days ago, I got my hair done.
2 days ago, it was our 3rd anniversary.
1 day ago, I felt slightly sad to be leaving.
Today, I can't wait. I feel slightly empowered for no discernable reason. Maybe it's because I know I look my best, and feel that way too.

Maybe it's time to start making some changes. Well, they've started already, I suppose. A new look does wonders for a girl's esteem and attitude (not that I was lacking much!

There have been changes happening all around, which makes me feel almost blessed. A couple I've known for a long time have split, for reasons unbeknown to pretty much both parties. It made me realise how much I treasure my relationship. I felt guilty, not being able to enjoy my anniversary because I was sorting that couple out..but I suppose once I'm a psychologist, this'll be part of a daily ritual..regardless of special occasions. It's all in the line of duty.

I did something today that I probably have been meaning to do for a long time. I don't regret it, but I do feel slightly sad, because this person has been in my life for a long time. We've not had a lot to talk about for a long time, and I suppose I'm the one who has to be indifferent, blase, icky and iffy now. Or perhaps this will change. I feel slightly more free. Like a weight's been lifted. Perhaps I've been blaming myself for a long time? Either way, I think I now have the proper chance to start over, and if our paths cross sometime in the future, I hope the meeting will be amicable.

Relationships have changed. All around me. Familial, and not so. My family's slowly falling apart, and there's not a thing I can do about it. Ironically, the family falls apart because of family. I felt an awesome wave of pity today, for my dad. I don't know why, but it brought a lump to my throat. I must say that he's the most tormented person I know. And then I reflect back and see my mother is no better. But... that's another topic.

Friendships come together, too. High school mates have grown closer, regardless of the crap we went through in high school. We were such children. But that is expected. What a difference a year makes!

I'll miss my cat when I leave... no matter how many times he's bit and scratched me. They're love bites. I love him to pieces.

So, maybe, it's time to start over. It seems like it's the beginning of forever.

So...let us walk the long road together.

Believe

I used to believe armadillos were indestructible. Much like a heart turned to stone, they curled up so tight that nothing could penetrate their depths.

Now I know this is not so.

I used to wish, when I curled up at night, that I would be indestructible, as long as I curled up tight. That anything around me, be it the world exploding, or the house falling down, would not hurt, and I would not feel.

Now I know this is not so.

So when the world is really falling down around me, I am not immune. I am not invincible. Every thing that hits me will hurt, and thats the way it is meant to be. I am no safer than an armadillo kicked hard, for all we protected were our vulnerable sides, and the shell we built would still sting with every blow.

So now, I succumb to feeling...to emotion...to pain.

Someone once told me that what one feels can never compare to the pain others might feel in the same situation. I held my tongue for fear that the pain would spread to those around me. To those who don't understand no matter how well or how long they've known me.

So I held my tongue, and let the world fall down around me. Because I know the pain I feel cannot compare, for pain cannot be compared, and to each is his/her own. There is no comparison, and there will never be. Pain is pain, pure and simple, and all that compares is how well we deal with it.

To deal with it...take a pinch of salt with every piece of advice, hold one's tongue and keep one's dignity, rage and pain in check. Do not lash out at those who mean no harm, and know that they cannot understand. Do not lash out at those who don't understand. Nobody understands but yourself, and the best one can do is listen.

What makes us think, as humans, that we are wise?

I cannot stop this rage inside me now. It tears my heart to pieces, and yet all I can do is bite my tongue, or scream into my pillow.

Who knows. Maybe one day there will be peace.

Maybe.

Relax

MIKA Lyrics

It's as if i'm scared...It's as if I'm terrified...It's as if i'm scared...Are we playing with fire?

I love this track from Mika (Relax [Take it eaaaaaaaaaasy]. Embodies everything I want to do but cannot. Because I spend so much time worrying.

Very hip-pop Beck and Mercury.

Just a post to say I miss the good ol' days.

Feeling

The world is no longer a romantic place. Some of its people, however, still are... And therein lies the promise.

I feel like writing today. I'm not exactly sure what to write because my head is filled with all sorts of buzzing ideas. I'm hoping to assemble them into some form of coherence.

My evenings are empty. Its bizarre when one gets used to a lover's presence, day in, day out. Its warm, soothing and gives one a sense of completeness. On the other hand, your head fills with memories of warmth and one prefers nothing but to daydream, with no interruptions.

No interruptions? In this household? I Must be dreaming!

I crave a window ledge. Or a patch of grass or pile of sand and plenty of blue sky to look upon. Just to dream of climbing a mountain and struggling, with a smile, with the wind.

I'm waiting for you.

One

One more exam to go. Thank god.

But by now, I have lost interest in all things studious and after three weeks, I just want to sleep.

I think I may be bipolar when it comes to a little thing called love. I bounce between overzealous joy and the doldrums. Bizarre, really. So after my little phonecall to you, that one that I was so excited about..afterwards I just felt empty. Maybe my room is too big now, and my soul feels slightly empty as everything is coming to an end.

Bizarre.

I am..wishing..that I can just curl up and fall asleep. My insomnia is getting worse and I average 3 hours a night, with something like a 5 hour nap in the day time.

It's time to change. It's time to start over. Time to patch myself up before I go back home and face the music.

The Tempest

My Jekyll and Hyde.

I have learned something tonight. I have learned that all of us, every single one, have a dark side. This is not new to me, but it has shed light (no pun intended) on my own behaviour that I have long since repressed and denied.

This dark side...it can be indulging in that Ben and Jerry's when you're on a strict diet. It can be the spanking you crave or a fantasy true. From potency, to poison. But we love it. We need it. Our only form of deviance in an otherwise concerned world.

I have learned something tonight. This is not new to me, that I have two sides to myself. I have only just begun to understand.

I have been told often, I am too nice. I do too much for others. I do not disagree. My help is always true and wholehearted. This I do not deny, for there are times when I have sought help and received it with warmth, and other times sunken in dismay. This is the light side of me. This is what lead to people asking me 'why?'. I always answer, 'why not?'.

But the dark side of me. The one that wants to lash out (and does), is a side less seen in its true form. The worst it ever gets is a slap on the wrist, and a gnash of the teeth, for what I do is not nice. Simple as making people believe that is is snowing, or working myself up into a frenzy just so I can let it out. My dark side. It wants more.

It wants to be able to express itself. So that I do not bray for blood. It needs cathartic activity to put it to rest. I cannot find it. I have searched for a long time, and now I am tired, and it has not yet begun, but it will. I refuse to let it out on those I love, though I used to, and do so to this day. The pain, when I do this, is unbearable.

But I will learn.

Sweet, sweet sorrow. To hear you, but not listen. To see you, but not touch. This is my Jekyll and Hyde. My Good and Evil. The two sides of myself that I have yet to understand, and only just acknowledged. Those who care to refute will be against my nonchalance, for this is also as much as I know and care for.

And so be it.

WE NEED YOUR HELP! READ ME!

Click above, and be helpful if you can ya'll. Nobody deserves to be treated like this, and you know it!

Laughter

Rock a bye baby
On the sweetheart
You will get naked
On the sweet pop.

This is why I love you. For making me laugh, and trying to put me to sleep at the same time.

Time

It's been a while.
It'll be a while more.

Surrounded

I'm surrounded by cynics.

Moment

S says:
what don't you know?
She says:
anything.
S says:
that doesn't explain anything
She says:
ive just got a lot to learn.
S says:
learn about what?
She says:
everything.
S says:
ok is something wrong?
She says:
nope
S says:
so you are answering me in a riddly fashion cos?
She says:
im not
She says:
this was a very straightforward conversation.
S says:
yea ok, you are in one of those moods

Valentine

Always

Break Free

There's been a shift..a change in balance of the natural order of things.
Cos some days, you just don't feel like the Goddess you are, and you lose control.

Breathe, baby, breathe.

Clocks

Lights go out and I can't be saved
Tides that I tried to swim against
You've put me down upon my knees
Oh I beg, I beg and plead (singing)
Come out of things unsaid, shoot an apple of my head (and a)
Trouble that can't be named, tigers waiting to be tamed (singing)
You are, you are

Confusion never stops, closing walls and ticking clocks (gonna)
Come back and take you home, I could not stop, that you now know (singing)
Come out upon my seas, curse missed opportunities (am I)
A part of the cure, or am I part of the disease (singing)

You are
And nothing else compares
Oh no nothing else compares
And nothing else compares

You are
Home, home, where I wanted to go

Why

"Why are you crying?" he asked his mom.

"Because I'm a mother," she told him.

"I don't understand," he said.

His mom just hugged him and said, "You never will!"

Later the little boy asked his father why Mother seemed to cry for no reason.

"All mothers cry for no reason," was all his dad could say.

The little boy grew up and became a man, still wondering why mothers cry. So he finally put in a call to God and when God got on the phone the man said, "God, why do mothers cry so easily."

God said, "You see son, when I made mothers they had to be special. I made their shoulders strong enough to carry the weight of the world, yet gentle enough to give comfort. I gave them an inner strength to endure childbirth and the rejection that many times comes from their children.

I gave them a hardiness that allows them to keep going when everyone else gives up, and to take care of their families through sickness and fatigue without complaining.

I gave them the sensitivity to love their children under all circumstances, even when their child has hurt them very badly. This same sensitivity helps them to make a child's boo-boo feel better and helps them share a teenager's anxieties and fears.

I gave them a tear to shed. It's theirs exclusively to use whenever it's needed.

It's a tear for mankind."

-- Anonymous

Suga

You got me lifted shifted higher than a ceiling
And ooh wee it's the ultimate feeling
You got me lifted feeling so gifted
Sugar how you get so fly?

Don't ask.

Hmm.

My lava lamp has gone bubbly inside. It has (partly) destroyed my sense of equilibrium.

Turbulence

I used to love this word. It reminded me of storms. Only, I'm terrified of storms. The thunder reminds me of an earthquake I vaguely remember in Taiwan.

I remember all the crashing of things falling down, and us hiding under the bed. But it seems like a bad dream.

I don't remember crying. I was scared but fascinated. And now I'm just scared of thunder.

I remember in Primary school I'd lie down on blue mats for naptime. But I could never sleep. I used to pull my mat up alongside someone else's mat. I don't remember who they were but I remember sandy hair and brown eyes.

Maybe a boy or a girl.

The mats were close to the edge of the table. I'd tuck myself slightly under the table so I could watch the sunlight stream and dust-motes dance in it, without being blinded.

I remember filing to the cafeteria, with its' long tables and benches. I sat a few seats from the end, always. Maybe we lined up in alphabetical order.

I remember making applesauce. We all brought apples from home and tied bit of string around it with our name on the end, on each slice which we lowered into a pot that boiled up front. The teacher added sugar. We got our applebits and sugary watery sauce back in little white plastic cups.

I liked the taste. Maybe its why I'm fond of apple pie now. But only a little bit.

The whole surface of the earth seems changed.