Longing for peace...

Longing
for something that may be lost,
that maybe never was...
the sadness to cease...
the world to change, to get unstuck...
this pain
to pass...

Longing
for someone who may be lost,
who maybe never was...
our sadness to cease...
our worlds to change, to reconstruct...
our pain
to ease...

Longing...
for his love...
the way it used to be,
the way it could have been,
the way it should have been...
for pain
to
cease...

Those Three Words...

Again,
he offered
those three words,
after he saw fit
to abuse,
his emotional punchbag.

I used to make him
say
those three words.
He never did before.
He said,
he couldn't see the point.

I really needed him
to feel
those three words.
To make him understand,
to realise,
to learn from his mistakes.

Now I don't care anymore
for
those three words,
they hold no weight,
they fail
to heal the damage caused.

He still can't see,
still doesn't feel,
those three words...
I never want to hear him
say again
those three, empty words...

"...I am sorry..."

She says the words I don't want to hear myself think...

"Arranging words in a certain way so they become... magic."
"A poet of eccentricities."
Olivia Dresher


I read Tweets more than I write...
They can help me understand what I feel, what I sometimes didn't realise was there.
I use their words to find what I need to see.

These are some of @OliviaDresher's Tweeted words, strung into a stream of my own making...

:::

The hell of seeing/feeling but not speaking.

::

When profound feelings prevent functioning.

When profound feelings chase self into quicksand.

When profound feelings burn one up and down.

::

When expressing and not expressing end up being the same thing, eventually.

::

No matter how much I confess or express, everything still stays deep inside,

a secret.

::

The soothing sound of what I can't hear.

::

The universe doesn't talk to me.

But I hear it snoring and screaming.

::

I never take words for granted, or actions, or feelings, or anything.

Therefore, I never rest.

::

To think, to question, to search... a simple recipe for loneliness.

::

A loner, but a lover.

::

Once he touched her heart all the way, in a way no one ever has, how natural it was to break it.

::

Some things one never gets over or recovers from.

This isn't a deliberate holding-on.

(If something reaches in, all the way, that's it)

::

I can't imagine what I would be now, if I had never met you.

I didn't just taste your essence and words, I swallowed them.

::

What feels good doesn't teach.

Only what feels bad does.

What feels good, though, helps one endure the bad.

(The meaning of "help me"...)

::

When everything feels wrong

(the feeling of a desert),

there's a longing for just one tiny thing to feel right

(one drop of water).

::

Longing, a way of honoring the impossible.

::

She wanted to give herself to him in the same way that she gave herself to herself.

::

She loved the contrast of together/alone, together/alone.

It was the always-together or always-alone that broke her.

::

To feel intimacy you have to also be willing to feel pain.

::

Not knowing what you're feeling is worse than not knowing what you're doing.

I wish I knew, without asking, without feeling more pain.

::

It goes way, way back.

Every feeling.

::

I can't stop.

::

If you live from your heart, you truly never will grow up... for better or worse.

::

Learning the lessons of love, the hardest lessons to learn.

::

Lessons to unlearn and then learn again.

And then throw it all out the window, learning be gone.

::

She lost everything intangible that meant the most to her.

Now what's left is to give away the tangibles.

::

The preservationist, alone, not knowing what to do with all she carefully preserved.

::

The turning points...

::

The shock of finding myself here, over and over again.

::

Not only the shock of no longer being wanted in the present, but the realization that there was never any true wanting in the past, either.

::

Every time I try to accept the truth, I feel horribly seasick.

::

My mind is made for truth, but my body resists it.

::

When sensitivities begin to feel like curses...

::

Enduring the terrible is a full-time job.

::

This is where she writes about the shattered pieces of her foundation, and the whole piece of her essence.

:::

With thanks, to  Olivia Dresher

To all you Beautiful People out there, you know who you are: Thank You!

My Mum says I have the wisdom of a 130 year old, with the innocent heart of a child...


I am someone who, as said by those who know and have met me, is of a gentle nature.
Kindness, carefulness, politeness, respectfulness, fairness, trustworthiness and generousness are all traits that have been mentioned to describe me (as well as some that are not so flattering of course, we are all human).

I like to believe every person to be true at heart, some just made some bad decisions along the way and have to do what they can to survive, I just don't have to be on the other end of it.
And I do really want and try to believe this.
Even when these characteristics are misunderstood and seen as 'weaknesses' or I am pursued as someone to take advantage of...

So when I am treated without much respect or get purposefully offended, and people think I must be some kind of fool for being so kind and understanding, some 'push-over', I still try to be polite about their misunderstandings of my character.
I wouldn't want to make the wrong assumption about their words or behaviour, so I respectfully but carefully try to make them see sense, see their mistake, as I would not want to be the one to offend when standing my ground or putting my point across.

I have been told on separate occasions by different people, that I have no guard to protect myself from (energy) vampires, leeches, opportunists or abusers, and some people (out for a target) seem to 'smell' that a mile away, honing in on me, trying to fool me.
But I don't suffer fools gladly and when their intentions have become obvious to me, I will not stand for any of their nonsense or cruelty!

Don't mistake my friendliness and politeness for stupidity!
I understand completely who you are and what you are trying to do to me, I already know more of you from our (hopefully) short encounter than you will ever be able to understand of me, and 'easy' when crossed is the one thing I am not!
At which point they normally had enough of my rationalising and excessive come-back whilst trying to cut their utterings off at any given opportunity, to realise that their efforts should be concentrated on some other poor soul elsewhere... and soon bugger off anyway.

But isn't this Internet world a strange and curious thing...

It is so easy to misunderstand, when someone has only 140 characters, as on Twitter, to express their thoughts or feelings, or communicate with someone, as we don't see a face's expression, we can't read someone's eyes or body language, or hear the intonation of words, the pauses taken.

How someone so easily can make assumptions about someones intentions or character by seeing words that have not been written within those 140 odd.
And how funny these assumptions can be!
Only yesterday I was assumed to be a "male teapot", which caused quite a lot of laughing and after-sniggering and really was nothing that would have ever offended me.
I felt more for the person who realised the mistake!

Now, I do like my Twitter and mainly because I have come across some seriously beautiful people on there, but I always have this underlying fear of misunderstanding the meaning of those tweeted words, or of being misunderstood myself when in conversation with these generous gems.

So I have decided to do a Shout-Out, to all you wonderful people out there:

If I have ever done, said or wrote anything to offend or hurt you, I do sincerely apologise, from the bottom of my heart.
I am truly sorry for any ignorance, bad choice of words or lack of actions I am not and have not been aware of.
I do hope you will let me know if there is anything I can do (or not do, for that matter) to make it right, if that is important to you.
Because it certainly is to me.

All I can do is to try my hardest to repay your kindness and generosity and thank you  sincerely for reaching out, sharing your words and for letting me be part of your world, as your presence has enhanced mine immensely.

And no, this is not some sappy, emotionally artificial blabber.
Nothing is when it comes from a sincere heart.

This is just me, being myself.

Take it or leave me.

That's your  prerogative.

He touched me... He made me cry... Finally... I see what I hide...

"Unleash my words
for they do flow
in streams of eyes I do not yet know.." 
Steve Thompson


Today I came across some Poetry Tweets from @dreamersteve_99.
Just reading through them, somehow, exposed deep buried feelings I have been trying to bring into words, to express what I hide inside.
They made me cry my pains...
These are those 10 poems that managed to move me so suddenly and intensely...

Your roses
they wept before you came in
what news have you
they have not already told me
thorns were meant for me..

•
And if your love was the only true one in the garden
wouldn't the rest have found a love worth growing for..
•
The curl of your hair
the way your eyes shine so blue
the fragrance you exude
each attack this lonesome heart..
•
In your warmth
the furtive desires seek higher ground
always seeking
to not drown in you..
•
In loving we find peace
even sometimes through our pain..
•
Have you showered me off yet
have you washed away the tears
can you wipe off what I meant to you
and go to work with that smile..
•
One bird sings alone
a song to brighten her day
so simple so complete
only singing for her no one else around
her bird now..
•
If we must walk this world
let's not walk alone
too many branches are already broken on that road..
•
Inside were deserts of her own choosing
sands of lovers past
just a sandstorm ago..
•
Could she leave the life of dark evil spaces behind
to grasp a light that has always burned her deep before
for a true heart..


With thanks, to  Steve Thompson 

My Out of Control Hormones are making me...

I feel so sad and upset...
He is such a jerk...

Years ago when I was looking for things and ways to get me through my depression, I decided to go off the Pill and have a Mirena coil (or IUD) so I could take St. John's Wort and still be safe.

I have been on the Pill since I was thirteen, as my periods gave me so many problems (migraines interfering with my sight and very severe abdominal cramps, to the point I couldn't move for days let alone attend school) that my mum suggested to go and see our GP and see if going on the Pill would help with this.

He agreed and so we started with one that was apparently too heavy for me.
It gave me headaches every day to the point where a day without the headache would make me wonder why I was feeling so weird...

R.I.P Little Woodpecker...

I am soooo sorry, Little Woodpecker...

I am so sorry you died just because you were too young and inexperienced to realise you can't fly through glass, even though it looks like you should be able to...

I am so sorry that because of this thing I live in, your life had to end so soon...

Sleep tight, Little Woodpecker...

So here you are, lying there, on the pavers in front of my backdoor, like all you are doing is taking a nap in a somewhat unusual place...
You look so peaceful...
You just needed a rest from being out in the world, learning about all these new things to survive, to live...
So you stopped, laid your head down and fell asleep... just for a minute... catching your breath...

This world suffers so much from our presence.
We spread like a virus, conquering and destroying anything that dares to stand in our way.
Or just because we don't see a use for it, or don't like what it is...

Noun: Bitch-Pigeon > Someone that comes out of nowhere and shits all over your life. Metaphorically.

I got this one from @TheBloggess, as an answer to her request:

"I need the most ridiculous insult ever. Cock-knocker. Douche-canoe. Something like that. It's for Satan, if that makes it better."

@thisisroxanne kindly replied:

"@TheBloggess Bitch-pigeon. Its someone that comes out of nowhere and shits all over your life. Metaphorically."

Hmmmm.....
Somehow it has been on my mind ever since...

He "just didn't think" and my exclamation marks are out of control!!!

I like to eat blueberries for breakfast.

I have a whole punnet on 1 1/2 seeded wholegrain toasted bagels with cream cheese and really look forward to them each morning.
Even with the berries within date, I go through them one by one to make sure I won't be coming across any mouldy ones on my plate (Yuk!), wash them and then, yes, wait for this: divide them into 3 portions, putting them into 3 small plastic containers.
You might call this 'neurotic' (of course you would, then again, maybe you wouldn't, because you don't want to eat food that has gone off either).
I call it: 'Making sure I don't put something in my mouth that is going to make me throw it all up again and will put me off berries for life', and whilst I handle each berry anyway, I might as well split the amount into three equal portions so that my last half-bagel still has berries to go with it.
OK, maybe that last bit could be somewhat neurotic, but we all have our, sometimes inexplicable, preferences on what we do with our food, so there!

TaDaaaaa... whilst slowly turning blue in the face...

He has been asking for years for me to reclaim the small seating area right outside our backdoor...

It used to have a wooden patio set, with next to it some big pots of chosen herbs I like to have close by for cooking.

The patio set was re-situated to the lawn, just in front of the old spot, as it had been a bit of a problem placing the parasol with it in such a way that it wasn't going to topple over the edge with every gust of wind, or to just not stand in the way and hit your head on it whilst trying to get past.
At least on the lawn that wasn't a problem, and we could use a screw-in holder so that the stand would not create dead patches in the grass.

The old spot became therefore another place to house things I wanted to keep a close eye on (seedlings, things that looked a bit poorly, etc.), to collect and display more herbs and to store Projects-To-Get-on-With.

It appeared that it wasn't supposed to be used for things like that and that he wanted to put another patio set back in that position, as walking to the lawn a few paces down seemed to be too much trouble.

My 5 Min Chuck-Out Therapy Session! The Beginning of Something Good...?

He said "...weirdo..." while he walked away leaving me to try and sort out a kitchen drawer he didn't like content nor arrangement of...

He is not allowed to call me names if they aren't nice... not ever... he has said them too often, too cruelly, too vindictively... And he knows.

He'd hurt my feelings deeply, again, and for no other reason than that he doesn't like that I can't throw things away he deems to be 'rubbish'.

But they are MY things and none of it is 'rubbish' if it has a purpose!

Even if it is a Someday Purpose...

I collect and save and hoard. I know.

It is supposed to be filling this emptiness, making up for something I'm missing, I am just not quite sure what it is, this thing I haven't got.

So I need to get... and keep... for Someday.

Anything... everything!