seemawrites
Seema Writes
Just trying to practice my craft.
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Self-Reflection - Why Do Human's Do What They Do? Unanswered.
It has been months since I felt comfortable writing on this page again. A lot has happened; and with that, a lot of self-reflection has happened too. I learned a lot about human nature, and how sometimes, the people who you trust the most are the ones who will hurt you the most. As cheesy as that sounds, it really is true. They know how to hurt you better than anyone else.
One important thing I learned, is that hate comes from love. This is for two reasons: 1.) A person you love tells you what to hate; and naturally as you trust that person from a place of love, you begin to hate what they hate (this can be the root of racism, homophobia, family fued's etc.). 2.) A person who you once loved, makes you hate them. It is impossible to hate someone you don’t know, but someone who you poured everything into (whether it be a friend, a family member, a partner), you begin to hate them when you realise that love is not reciprocated, or when you realise that you loved them in a completely different way than they loved you. (Shoutout Cinema Therapy).
There is a lot I still need to learn about the complexities of how humans work with one another, and what could make someone do a certain action. But as I was going through the worst part of this discovery, a good friend of mine told me:
“People who haven’t done the inner work are always going to present a risk to people who trust them.”
I now believe this to be 100% true. It hurts to realise this, but it is also extremely important to remember to not take this personally. Everyone is on their own journey in life, and the same friend had told me that sometimes you get caught in the cross fire of their lives. Whether it was me or another person, that person would have hurt us in the same exact way. The person who caused me the most pain I have felt in probably over a decade probably didn’t realise the extent of the damage they had done, or to be more candid about it, didn’t care to be honest enough to see the extent of that damage. When I found out the truth, I used to contemplate on letting them know, that I know everything. That I had found out through my own ways of the lies that were told. But I know that it won’t change a damn thing. The hurt and pain was still there, and nothing they could say to justify their actions would do anything to help bring me closure. Hell, I don't even know if they understand the reasonings of their lies and why they did what they had done. They just decided being the hero was better than being the villain, without allowing me to have a reaction to the truth. Without allowing me to process the true reason behind what happened. This would have allowed them to be the anti-hero, rather than the outright villain as they are now to me.
I’ve always said, the best way to show true progress in becoming a good person, is being honest in the mistakes you have made, no matter how painful it may be to face the truth. Even if you admit those mistakes, it’s even more painful when forgiveness is not given. But being a good person means you are okay with not being forgiven, that even though the damage is irreversible, you are committed to honesty and making sure the people who you hurt know that. That you will continue to be honest, no matter how painful it might be for those in the future. Whether they choose to stick around and see it or not.
All of this is easier said than done. I have always tried to be honest, and have always made an effort to remain honest with those I love the most. I wish for a world where everyone can be as open and honest about their shortcomings instead of pretending they can become (or already are) the perfect person for the sake of the other, but that’s not how it really works. Most people think this is the way to be. That being the hero is better than being the villain. But I'd rather be a villain in truth, than a hero in a lie. People are scared of the truth, but I think it's because they don't realise, that it is okay to not be everything you want to be. You will become hated if the person discovers the real truth, and they will begin to question everything in your character, no matter how much of the lie is actually the truth. It’s better to have a little discomfort now by being honest, then have a big fuck-up later on when the lie is realised. (Shoutout Flipped).
#creative writing#creative essay#self-reflection#human nature#prose#prose poetry#words words words#writers and poets#spilled ink
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Sorrow Is The Sweetest Candy
I was told that sorrow is the sweetest candy
And we’re all children in a shop
With our last 50 cents
I sometimes think about
Where I would be
If I was never provided the understanding
If I was never told sitting in pain
Is the same as digging into a wound
Making it bigger
It’s interesting to think
That not only do we do this
Emotionally
But we pick at physical wounds too
We’re told
“Don’t touch that scab
It’ll make it worse”
“Don’t pop that pimple
You’re creating a hole in your skin”
Yet we all collectively understand
That it just feels good
That little push of pain
Is like a weird relief
A mix between sweet and sour
Our minds make us believe
That laying in bed
All day long
Feels better
Than going to see a friend
A friend who is going to make you laugh
I read long ago
That mental illness
Is a battle that your mind
Pretends isn’t happening
Like a thief in the night
It creeps up to you
Unknowingly your smile
Is replaced by buzzing
In your hands and feet
The soldiers charge
The horses neigh
While you stand there
Eyes wide open
Stuck
You tell yourself
“I’m okay
I’m okay
I’m okay”
As tears stream down your cheeks
And all of a sudden
You’ve forgotten to breathe
The war is being waged
Yet it seems as if
You cannot lift a finger
Let alone a sword
The world has become dark
The battlefield red
And you
Stand there lonely
Unsure if there really is a fight
To begin with
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Honesty Is The Best Policy, Right?
I was having a discussion with friends recently, about many different things. But I think the overall theme was about honesty. Not just being honest with each other, or being a good Samaritan and having to be honest, but in a way that is honest to yourself. There are a lot of lies we tell ourselves on a day to day basis. I think the biggest lie we tell ourselves is why we do certain things. A while back I had written about the human mind and how we just simply don’t know what makes a human do what they do. We don’t understand the depths of motivation, just that it exists. So what motivates people to lie, and especially lie to themselves? I mean, I think the hardest thing you can do is lie to yourself.
Let me reword that question. Why do humans decide to believe the lies we tell ourselves? I know when you look at yourself in the mirror and tell yourself something long enough, your brain will understand that it’s a lie. Kind of like how if you repeat a word enough times, it doesn’t sound real. If you repeat the lie to yourself, it won’t sound real after some time. I guess this is where the complexities start coming in, because I always tell people a good way to start feeling confident about yourself is lying in the mirror. Like give yourself 5 compliments a day looking at yourself in your eyes, and if you do this for long enough you’ll believe the compliments. That sounds really contradictory with what I previously said, I know, but hey, humans are contradictory, no?
But to go back to the original statement I was trying to make, I think that the particular lies I’m talking about is what motivates a person to do/say things in general. For example, when someone says something to you that is obviously hurtful, and the coat it as a “joke” or just being “well-intentioned”, they are lying to both you and themselves. They need to make themselves seem less terrible, and it helps them when they go home at night. I learned very early on that people who do bad things regularly don’t actually care that they’ve done those things. A comment/action from them can affect you for the rest of your life, but to them it was a regular Tuesday. That’s why you shouldn’t take them not remembering what they did to you to heart. I remember when the person who committed a crime against me said they didn’t remember it, of course, because he had done the same to so many other girls, that I was just a number that passed in his head. My anger boiled deep down inside me, and I had never wanted to commit arson on a person in such a way. I didn’t know what to do with my anger, and taking it out on him felt pointless, as all he could say to me was “I forgot, but I’m sorry if I hurt you” Then again, he could be lying to himself to make him feel better about being a rapist (spoiler: there is no way to feel better about being a rapist).
I’d like to think we’re all capable of being better humans, and being able to change ways that have negatively impacted others. But there are just certain things you cannot change, but being honest is a good start. Had the person who assaulted me apologized to me, sincerely, out of his own sheer will to be a better person, I would have felt better about the whole situation. Would I have forgiven him? No, definitely not. I believe all people who have ever raped/SA’d someone should be burned at the stake. But survivors getting a heartfelt apology from their abusers? That’s at least a good start. I would have at least been able to feel like I wasn’t crazy for years.
But anyways, there’s no need to dive deep into that subject. I have closed that chapter, and while it does sting from time to time, I know the best I can do for myself is just understand that sometimes, you’ll never get an apology. Sometimes, you’ll never have a person actually self-reflect and sit you down and just say, “I know I was shitty, I don’t expect forgiveness, I just want you to know I’m doing better”. And that’s okay. I think that’s one of the disappointing things about humans, we feel shame for actions so deep that we hold that closer than wanting to be a better person. Maybe the next generation will be better, but till then, I think we should all be kinder to one another, and leave those behind who decide to remain the bad person in other people’s eyes.
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Writer's Block or Quarter Life Crisis?
I miss being inspired beyond what is in front of me. When I think back to my university days, I’m so grateful that I had the chance to study creative writing and really put in an effort into what I was doing. But when I really think back to it, I feel as if I didn’t do enough. I didn’t try hard enough. I know that I did do well, but I feel as if I could have done better. Maybe this is the writers curse, as we’re all our own worst critics, but that’s how I feel. I had a huge opportunity to study what I loved, and I spent most of it fucking off and just doing whatever, without really thinking of how my life would be now. I mean, I could’ve never guessed I’d be into my second office job (both have been relatively creative, but office jobs nonetheless), and not having time to do many things, like hanging out with my friends or exploring new things. Those things may seem mundane, but I need these experiences in order to write. For art in general, the only way to improve your craft is not only to practice it, but to find unique experiences as you go along in life. And a unique experience doesn’t have to be sitting on an island for days on end, looking at the animals in the trees. It can be a simple thing of having a conversation with a person in their 80’s who has lived longer than majority of those you know around you. It can be just watching a couple in a café exploring their unique love language.
I use to gain inspiration from people watching. People are interesting things, they tend to do things subconsciously without realizing it. Not to say that being in Ethiopia has prevented me from doing this, or that if I lived in a different country I would have more opportunities. Everybody likes to think that life would be so different if they lived elsewhere. And it might be, but I think that is truly dependent on the lifestyle you have. And majority of people I know all over the world have a 9-5 week, party over the weekend, and then do it all again on Monday. But maybe the rest of the world has more diverse options of where you go and who you meet (I say maybe as if I don’t know that for certain).
I tend to force myself to regurgitate thoughts and already lived experiences, but honestly, it feels like I’m drowning myself creatively. I want to read more books, more essays, more poetry. I want to explore new TV shows, and new people, but it has become increasingly difficult the more tired I get. I’ve been in a writers block for well over two months now, and continuously writing untitled poems and creative essays as a self reflection method. But I feel like I haven’t lived enough to self reflect. I have been journaling as much as I can when I do get the chance to do something interesting or if it changes my perspective of what I previously thought upon a topic. But recently, it’s been the same thing over and over. I am very happy to have the friends and partner that I do to keep my happy and afloat, and none of what I previously said is a reflection upon the life I have built with them and here. I just wish that life could be more like the 70’s, where exploring the world wasn’t so expensive, and living life wasn’t something that we look at as a luxury. I wish being a creative still meant something; I wish being a writer still meant that you could fuck off for several months to do your writing. You still can, but the world moves by so fast, you may run out of money before you finish your book.
Maybe I’m just having a quarter life crisis within my writing endeavors, maybe its because I never planned to be alive this long when I was younger, I kinda winged everything until the age of 23. Sometimes I forget you need to breathe, and that the greatest writers I’ve ever had the chance of reading didn’t get their chance to write until well into their 30’s. I’m turning 25 in a few weeks, and I think maybe I shouldn’t be so hard on myself when it comes to writers blocks, or when it comes to how tired I am after a day of work. Yeah, I think that’s the best thing to do.
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Growth is Not Just Ageing
I was at my mothers house for the last week. It was an interesting time. It was pleasant that I got home-made food, but at the cost of small freedoms. I didn’t mind that too much, definitely not as much as I did as a kid. Being back home in the childhood space that drove me insane, it’s interesting to see how okay I have been in the last few years. During university, I was at the end of my recovery, moving back, I felt as if it would all fall apart at the seams, but that’s just an illusion. It doesn’t matter where you live, as long as your insides are good, you’ll be good too. It took me moving out of my parents house, and living with them at a distance to realise that. When I was a teenager, I would be upset that I couldn’t just smoke cigarettes freely in the house. But now as an adult, I like that I’m forced to smoke a minimal amount a day when I'm at their house. My mother and I are getting along better, but I think that may be due to efforts on my side. We watched Turning Red together recently, where the mother realised how much her holding on to her daughter, ruined their relationship, and in turn, ruined her daughter.
But, since it’s a Disney film, of course they didn’t show to what extent that kind of relationship can do to a person. I almost cried watching it with her next to me, and when the film ended, she turned and said “wow, that was a sweet movie”. I don’t think she understood the point. But I’m also somewhat happy she didn’t understand the point. We have found peace bouncing around the fact that I am moving in the world, and doing my own thing, without my parents in my life. She’s happy (proud even) that I have figured out the ways of the world by myself. But, sometimes I wonder what kind of relationship we would have if she realised that I could’ve ended up a very different person than what I am now, if I didn’t have the right tools as a teenager to heal. Family is a very weird complicated thing. I have come to learn that parents are just vessels that bring you into this world. And it is really as simple as that. Kids are tiny human beings who are learning, and they grow to be adults with their own unique personalities and how they choose to live their lives. I wonder how many parents would have their worlds shaken if they took a step back to realise that. I’m not sitting here trying to say that my parents were terrible, or that I need an apology from them. But it would be nice if they would be able to acknowledge that I am my own person now. I have been the black sheep of the family since I was a young child. I may not have liked it as a kid, but I grew up to love the fact that I am different. I’ve been given the label of “the eccentric cousin” which I like. I think it definitely fits my personality. I’m happy with my tattoos, I’m happy that I have friends who love me so much that they are my family, I’m happy that I like to go out and dance and can be a bit crazy at times, I’m happy that I have a loving boyfriend by my side who cares about my well being. I’m happy, happier than I’ve ever been before the age of 20. I haven’t cried on any of my birthdays since 20 either, which I feel is a huge improvement on how I view myself and my life. I just wish there was a way I could show my parents that my happiness and who I am happy with, is not a reflection of how they raised me, or even a reflection of how I feel about them. We may have our differences, and we definitely come from different generations, but I still love them. If therapy taught me anything, it’s that we’re traumatised by parents who were traumatised by their parents who were traumatised by theirs, etc etc etc. I can’t blame them for how they are, and I can’t be mad at them for it, especially seeing the amount of effort they have put in to become better parents. I’ll forever be grateful to my therapist for teaching them and showing them how they needed to change. They may not have taken every single lesson, but they changed in the ways that were the most important.
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24 Is Your Mid-Twenties
I sat here to begin writing my non-academic creative essay (first one ever), and I realized that majority of my writing has been me sharing extremely personal perspectives. Which makes sense, what else would I write about? It made me sit and wonder about the different writers who have written personal essays. They have obviously lived, traveled, met countless interesting people that ended up being used in fragments of their stories. I wonder when I will start writing like that. I have been given the chance to be talented, and I don’t want to waste it. Yet, I have come to learn that being a writer means finding time around your day job to sit down and write. And it’s kind of draining. I always imagined that I would have met countless people by now, and learning the ins and outs of how we operate and live with one another. But I haven’t felt that yet.
A few days ago (maybe a week now?) I realized that I’m no longer in my early twenties. I am now in my mid twenties. I didn’t feel panic about that, it was more like a “whoa, there was a huge paradigm shift of how I should view myself, yet I never noticed.” I may not have noticed, but society has sure as shit did. When my mother offered to help me and get me some new paint to clean up my room, it made me realise that I am at an age where I should have been on that myself. I have always been okay with living like a uni student, but I haven’t been a uni student in almost three years. Which means, I should be looking into doing things differently. It’s interesting that you’re never guided into these things, you’re kind of just thrown into the deep-end, like those kids swimming lessons where the instructor just tosses them in there. But the difference is that those babies have instincts to swim, where as I, do not have a natural instinct of what it is like to be an adult. I’m adaptive, which is good, but the thing with being adaptive, is that you have to notice the environment around you is changing. And this isn’t the environment around me, it’s the society and how it will begin viewing me (or maybe even has already began to view me). Sometimes, I forget that I am 24 years old. I forget that when an adult looks at me (I guess at this point, it’s just another adult) they see a “grown-up”. And I realise, maybe I haven’t done enough growing. I spent most of my teen years trying to not unalive myself, that I never really planned what “adulthood” would look like. I never thought about the type of house I wanted, or where it would be, or what I would be doing. I only started to think of these things in recent years, maybe even during university (the end of my first year maybe?).
One thing they don’t tell you about being an adult, is that you have to actually act like it. And it’s not “hmm what current events are rocking the world right now” or “I should go home and sleep instead of blowing my money on liquor” it’s more like “I need to get new furniture because the couch is getting torn up, and “the shower head stopped working, I need to find a good plumber who’s affordable that can help”. And as much as I love living in Ethiopia, it’s really hard to find those things on your own. Like you can’t just do a quick google search on “plumbers near me” (if they’re online, chances are they’re way too expensive), you need to know the know or know people who know. I wish there was a blueprint like they have one in school, where they say in order to get an A, you gotta do these things. And I’m not saying life should be completely structured like school, but having a rubric never hurt anyone. But I guess having a “one size fits all” rubric for everyone wouldn’t really work. We’re all way too different from one another. Man, I’m rambling. But my point still stays the same.
Working through the wits and ways of being an adult causes a lot of self-reflection, and could potentially turn to self-hatred, especially if you have no idea how to go about it. I wasn’t allowed to be “independent” until I made it happen for myself at uni, and even then the UK had a lot more convenience of these things than Addis does. It’s just a matter of finding ways of life that work for you, and I need to find the time to do all that, and more. Till next week guys.
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Untitled 07
I wonder why people
Hold onto a notion
Of what is biological or not
Does it truly matter
If I bleed till the end of days
Or if I had never experienced a drop?
Do I experience less justice
If I afford it to another person
Who is harmed by the same factor?
Why is it so important
To keep resources and spaces for oneself
As if they are not harmed
By the very same entities that effect us?
Why have we pinpointed a people
As if they are all the same people
When they are clearly
Not even of the same mindset
(Have we not left that in the past?)
My femininity does not come into question
At the face of someone who needs to become feminine
For their own survival
My choice of no longer having a period
Does not make me less or more
It makes me what I want to be
Which is a woman
We have learned very early on
In the ways of human life
Words mean nothing
Neither does science
What matters is how we make one another feel
How we love and support one another
How we face adversity
Together
But if we cannot try to see our differences
If we force each other onto a certain path
How are we expected to grow
To change?
To love?
I have heard to be loved is to be changed
Not to say you must change your core values
But change your perspective
Exchange violence for kindness
Open your first to hold a hand
Maybe that’s how we get through this shithole together
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Sleep Deprivation
Sleep deprivation
A form of torture
A place of delusion
People don’t often talk about how it feels like you’re losing your mind
Or maybe they do, and I just forgot
Everything is real, and not at the same time
Everything feels like its melting while solidifying into hard bricks
28 hours is interesting, it doesn’t seem like a lot
Its one day
But today I feel it all
My eyes are shakey
My hands too
I cant really feel the top of my head
But then, was I ever able to feel the top of my head?
I’m confused! I’m lost! I’m in a state of bamboozlement!
(psst: Is that a real word?)
I wonder if the table that’s brown understands that colour
What the fuck does that even mean?
Should I colour?
I can act like I’m alive but really and truly I can’t go on
I need to lie down
On a bed
A couch
The floor with a blanket
Anywhere, I just need to rest my head
Rest
Rest
Rest
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Untitled 06
A painfully stressful dynamic
Always comes out of
A group of people who are told
Of a certain violence
This life proves to be
More and more difficult to live
If you do not have community
If you do not have people
There is nothing left for you
We wonder why this generation
Is the loneliest
Is it because we like to be
So similar that we dislike
The different?
Is it because we want to be
So right
In a world that is continuously
So wrong?
The death of a child
The death of a mother
The death of a brother
The death of a human being
It is becoming
Increasingly difficult
To not get locked away
In your own little world
Silence the news
Turn off your phone
And disappear
Into the colours of your room
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Untitled 05
To understand the human brain is one thing
But to understand the human heart is even more complicated and confusing
We can see why someone can be entertained by a guitar
But we can’t see why a specific emotion comes out of them as they are
We all love the colours of the sunset
But why does the sky bleeding red make us feel so…
Alive?
Maybe that’s why I spend so much time trying to understand feeling
Attempting to see someone behind a cracked smile and heavy eyes
As they put out various laughs and jokes in order to seem okay
Are you really okay?
When was the last time you checked?
Maybe that’s why I ask so many questions that people aren’t ready to answer
“What was your childhood like?”
“Do you love your parents for beyond what they provided?”
“Do you understand that you love someone how they want to be loved, not how you want to be loved?”
And those are the simple questions to me.
Sometimes I worry about my friends and wonder if they’re telling the truth
If they are actually happy to be where they are
That they wake up feeling okay about themselves
And the crashing world around us
There’ll be the occasional joke that is a bit too sad
Or there’ll be a point of disappearance, just wiped off the face of the Earth
And it’s fine to be sad and to disappear
But do you come back feeling better? Do you come back knowing a bit more about yourself?
Are you happy you took the time off, or are you waiting to feel happy again?
Have you figured out what makes you happy? Do you remember what happiness is?
I wish I could crack open my friends’ chest and truly observe what their hearts say
See what makes them feel alive, and maybe help them stay that way
But alas, I am not a doctor
And simply looking at a heart won’t tell you anything except an indicator for health
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Untitled 04
Have you ever sat to think
How much of true love you have experienced?
A friend who is willing to pay for your meal
Just so they can see you
A lover who kisses you softly
As they are whisked away in sweet slumber
A random person who offers
A kind smile
In the middle of a bad day
When we think about true love
We think about a mighty prince
Saving his damsel in distress
And they live happy ever after
They never mention
The damsel in distresses best friend
Who would have tried to save her first
They don’t mention the mighty prince’s friend
Who advised him
And is waiting upon his return
No one ever mentions that in life
You make your own family
That you are born with the ability
To understand that your friends
Can become your kin
That a person who was a stranger
Is now your whole world
And you will live for them
And die for them
All the same
The love I give to so few
Are ones who I want in my life
For as long as I am breathing
And this chest raises up and down
I will prove to them
How grateful I am to have them in my heart
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Untitled 03
Shhhh… listen
Can you hear that?
The silent sound of peace?
There is a quietness that floats around
That settles itself at the crown of your head
And drapes itself over your shoulders
It hugs you within arms of comfort
Making you understand
You have never slowed down to listen
To the nothingness
When was the last time you rested?
Sat yourself down
With a glass of your favourite drink
And just…
When was the last time
That you were surrounded by stillness
And were able to have a conversation
With yourself
Like really talk to yourself
Let yourself sound like a crazy person
By asking yourself questions
You already know the answers to
Talk to yourself long enough
That the truths start to sound like
The lies that they always were
So, friend
Allow yourself to be undisturbed
Sit with yourself
And with your reflection
Let yourself be
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Untitled 02
Do you ever get that weird feeling?
Like deep down in your chest
Something sits
Rumbling and ready to break out
But what is it?
Can you pinpoint it?
Can you imagine it in your head?
Does it stick to the tip of your tongue,
Unable to come out?
I wonder if it’s because of lack of sleep
Or lack of seeing my friends
Lack of a weekend
And lack of a vacation or two
I wonder if I would feel weird like this
If I was given space to rest
Given space to breathe
I think I used to feel this as a teenager
But then again
Do I remember what I felt as a teenager?
Do I even remember what I felt at uni?
At my first job?
Last month?
The world moves by so fast
That you end up losing things around you
If you try to move even faster
Time moves on its own
And yet we try to get it to move within our own timeline
There is a deadline we are all trying to reach
But what does it matter
If you must sacrifice all that makes you feel good?
What is the point
Of leaving your feelings in the dark
Until you drop your bag at your door
Look up to the ceiling and sigh
I’m finally home
There are many things I wish to do
But I can’t do them without ambition
There are so many stories
Pushed to the back of my head
Unable to create
Because of all the responsibilities
That cloud my mind
I wish there was–
Ah shit
My break is over
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Untitled 01
Dearly Beloved,
We are gathered here today
As we witness a young child
Scared of the light
She cannot see passed the horizon
And the rolling mountains
Look like wretched beasts
Waiting to consume her
To feed off her
As the setting sun beams red
The sky looks ravaged by war
A precedent for what her little mind
Believed to be her entire future
Does she move forward into battle
Or remain in the darkness
Petrified of what hasn’t happened
The moon has come and gone
A million times
And as sure as it to come back
She is yet to understand
That is life
Pain and happiness
Float in conjunction
One cannot be without the other
Just like rain and the smell of fresh dirt
Little girl, you must be willing
Willing to face the pain
Willing to embrace happiness
Without expecting one to last forever
They say life is fleeting
But the truth is, life is very long
You are not guaranteed tomorrow
But you may also wake to see it
As you twiddling your thumbs
Life will flash before you
And you’ll miss most of it
The terrifying thing
Is not the beasts that could be
It is not the danger that surrounds us
It is the regret
The pain of never knowing
The longing of time you can never get back
Young girl, don’t you see?
Life is for the living
It is for the brave
For the unafraid
Be unafraid
And let life reward you
With the warmest feeling
Of happiness
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I Am Your Curse (TW: Mention of DV)
With fear in your eyes
And pain on your chest
You look up at me terrified
“Who are you”? Your hand shakes
Reaching over your face
As if you are a victim
“I am the woman of your nightmares
I am the shadow of every single woman you beat
I am the product of your torture
Of the pain you have inflicted on each and every one.”
A lash and another
You cry out, begging for mercy
Was this the mercy you granted
To your victims?
Was this the very same pain
They wished to stop
Yet you kept going
Until your hearts content?
Do you realise the gravity of your crimes?
Or have you thought this life
Would never pay you consequence?
“Please stop,
Who are you”
You cry out begging
I am your curse from the devil himself
And I’m here to take you to perdition
You’re time to repent has come and gone
There will only be suffering from here on.
Just like what you have done to so many women
Over and over again.
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Dear You
To leave you behind
Is to leave behind the person who made me today
I wish to forever carry you in my heart
But as time moves on
I find myself relating to you less
I'm slowly growing into realizing
I no longer want to be around you
If anything, I desperately have been plotting my escape
I’ve heard change is good
That its the only way to move forward
But sometimes I worry
How much of you do I leave behind?
Do I leave behind the bad parts?
The things that made me regret your decisions?
Or do I have to leave behind everything
In order to get better?
Do I leave behind your mindset?
Or do I need to leave behind how you see yourself too?
What should I allow of you to remain?
Is it possible to keep parts
That you’re not sure you even want?
I wish there was a guidebook to figure it out
To understand what is important and what isn’t
I never thought that I would be here
Looking at you and forcing this decision to come out
Like unexpected rain on a sunny day
Maybe its necessary for the system around
But fuck, it’s ruined all my plans
I never thought someone I hated so much
Would be so hard to let go
But I guess that’s what happens
When the person you wish to escape is yourself
And the decision to start to love that
Is what will save you.
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I Say A Little Prayer For You (Flash Fiction)
I place my bag carefully on the table and take a look out the window. After a long day of work, I usually treat myself to a beer, or a joint, but today, I decide to treat myself to some music. It’s been a long time since I have allowed myself to dance in the middle of my apartment.
I turn to the speakers and put it all the way up. Going through my playlist I see the song I need right now. Say A Little Prayer For You. Aretha Franklin. As the soft drum line starts, I sit myself on the couch and light a cigarette. Inhaling, a trail of smoke leaves the red tip like a belly dancer in the dark.
“The moment I wake up
Before I put on my makeup (makeup)
I say a little prayer for you,”
I raise my hand high in the sky and start moving it side to side, following the flow of Aretha’s words. When the chorus begins, I stand up and start moving my hips singing out loud,
“Forever (forever), forever (ever)
You’ll stay in my heart, and I will love you.”
Hand still in the air the words escape my throat and into my empty apartment, bouncing off the white walls and radiating back to me,
“That’s how it must be.
To live without you would only mean heartbreak for me.”
I wrap myself in my own arms and start swaying back and forth. As the second verse begins, I feel a sudden wave of sadness wash over me. My arms slowly fall from where I embraced myself and I melt towards the floor. It’s been a very long time since I was able to say these words to anyone. I bring the cigarette towards my lips and take a slow long drag.
Dating has been a very difficult time. My heart has been craving a certain intimacy but I can never seem to find it. I know that I deserve to have a love like Aretha sings about. I know I deserve a love that we pretend used to exist. I deserve to be the protagonist of every romantic comedy I have watched to comfort myself. Yet, every person I meet has managed to make me feel the complete opposite. As if the love I so wish to desire to release isn’t meant to be said out loud. I wonder where my next love is. What they’re thinking about, if they feel the same way as I do. Am I just constantly searching for what I once knew, or am I ready to finally fall into something new?
I sigh and I sit back up, leaning my head against the wooden table as the song finishes.
“This is my prayer (answer my prayer, baby)
Answer it right now, babe (answer my prayer, baby)
Say you love me true (answer my prayer, baby)
This is my prayer, baby (answer my prayer, baby)
I’m in love with you (answer my prayer)”
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