Flashback, moments

On Being Homeless: A Fish Caught In Headlights

I can’t stop remembering those long, lonely, hollow-like walks to the seaside every night. Knowing that I should probably get some sleep but struggling. Knowing full well I could force it, a realisation that prevented me all together from making any serious attempt.

There are times when I miss the absolutely tremendous rattling of silence resounding so deeply inside my own head. It was a distraction from my real life problems. Like the impending madness of being homeless for another day. The fear of failing my best friend and my other friend. I can’t seem to get my head around the strangling nature of responsibility after responsibility, each stacking terrifyingly one on top of the other. However, it was a very simply equation indeed. All of which alluded to the incredibly mundane sum of surviving once again, another dreary day.

There are days where I wish I had done more. Not had been so darn soft. And then there are days where I can now see how hard I worked. But did it really take such a dire situation to call upon me to be more than just my placid self? Just to really get a grip on the person I am. Or, rather, the person I needed to become to live through a situation like that and come out the other side tall, strong and happy.

There will, of course, always be things I wish I could change. And perhaps things I wish had stayed with me. But overall I can say I’m happy enough to continue to live as the residual of what is left of that self. And more than that – to love the foundations as well. The foundations of which I can grow upon.

And so, I am proud. Even if only scarcely so.

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Flashback

Flashback: 4:47am

4:47 am 

I wake up

My eyes sorrowful 

Cheeks soaked in tears 

And lips trembling red 
5:00 am

I pick myself up from my bed

Shuffle out 

Into the cold stare of the bathroom 

And open the window 
5:05 am

The breeze slaps me in the face 

I hear leaves chuckle in the wind 

To the songs of birds 

And the cry of foxes 
5:07 am

A glittering gold hits against the blocked building in front of me

A shimmer of the sun 

Showing its reflection 

As I wait 
5:09 am

The sun hits the building fully 

Made from multiple windows, 

Bricked walls 

And bird shit 

But glass 

All the same
5:11 am

I glance up 

The sun’s reflection rises

A mirror of orange 

Trapped for a moment 

Ready to greet my crying face 

with grace and art
5:11 am 

I smile 
5:12 am

I leave 

Flashback, journal, moments

Flashback: A letter to my brother

Dear Brother,

You had made all these cross-wired connections that were illogical in nature but made sense out of context. Like, I could understand what you were feeling but the why was so over the top that I couldn’t fully grasp.

However, in a position where I was so vulnerable, self-esteem so low it was drooling past the depths of hell, where the flashbacks were hitting me full force with their penetrative glares and living from day-to-day was becoming harder. Where I looked up to you so much and treasured and held true every word you said, I, for a minute, broke.

I broke down.

I cried. Wanting to kill myself. Believing the words you spoke – saying that I was selfish, that how dare I serve myself for a second instead of you, how dare I not sacrifice my wellbeing for your own, how dare I?
But, how dare you.

How dare you ask that of your little sister? No, of another human being, of any other person, to give up themselves so completely to serve your every whim and wish.

Especially when you treat them like the shit on your shoe, only to condescendingly pat them on the head for doing exactly what you feel you needed.

I, for months, despite everything you said, dismissed all those evils you committed onto me. I continued to believe that angels shone out of your arse, them being the ones blessed to touch you, that God worshiped you and Satan cowered in fear every time he heard your name. And, most importantly, that I was the one completely in the wrong. That everything that happened was my fault and only my fault when let’s be real here.

Let’s be real.

The more that I took the responsibility for the faults that happened on that day, the more I serve to negate from the fact that you are a flawed human being like the rest of us.

Because guess what? The sun does not shine to greet you every morning, nor does thunder and lightning boom and bend to your will. You are human. You deserve to take some fault of your own onto shoulders too proud to slump, onto the flattened circumference of your mind crushed away by your demons that you indulge yourself in. I’m just sick of it.

I’m sick of how you’re all too ready to announce to the world how you’ve had it harder than any mere mortal who has experienced pain or anguish. That you believe yourself bigger than what you are. More superior because you choose not to understand what others go through but instead enjoy swimming deep in a sea of your own self-pity.

It’s silly.

Can the idea that someone else may feel pain without you having to make it a competition exist? Because God knows that when I feel good and happy I don’t go comparing it and stopping myself because someone else may be happier than I.

I don’t make it a competition. I just feel happy. And have enough sense to respect other’s happiness, the same way you should respect other’s pain.

I wish you could just see the truth and grow up for once. Because it’s not grown up to give people the silent treatment, it’s not grown up to expect family to serve you unconditionally – love you unconditionally, yes, but not serve. And finally, it’s not grown up to push everyone in your life away just because they communicate with you they do not agree with the way you treat them.

Grow up.

Grow up before everyone that you still love grows up and away from you.

Yours truthfully,

Your excommunicated sister

Continue reading “Flashback: A letter to my brother”

Flashback, journal, moments, Poetry

Flashback: My First Swear

pexels-photo-192560

Time stalls on the window sill

My tiny feet grips past the gloss, straight onto the flaking wood, face pressed onto the window, hands by my side

Laughter from the living room reminds me of their harsh words

Their intent to scare me, to remind me that I was no more than a common fool a success

Tears work its way down my cheeks

My warm breath dents the cold glass as a silhouette shaped like my chin and nose forms as the rain on the other side collect into droplets

 

Finally, I let the pain go and give room for anger to emerge

It wrestles my body into havoc as I begin to kick out against the window, punch away the fabric within the curtains and let my tongue boil out a single word

“Fuck”

I scream it

Then stop cold in my tracks

Did they hear?

Did they hear their 8 year old sister collapse into a word forbidden in this household

I wait

I listen

And nothing.

So I say it again

Nervous giggles jolting the words out in a quiet whisper

The word feeling oversized but good, easing away my anger

 

Better.

 

I feel better again.

Continue reading “Flashback: My First Swear”