From the Outside, In

How much these aching eyes,
Lust for sights before them.
Glistening in perfection,
Life's sweet glow captures my gaze.
Distant dreams and sounds,
Full of silent taunts,
As I stand here alone,
A stranger looking out.

The actors play their roles,
Living dreams before me.
Played to perfection,
The ache to join them runs deep.
Flutters of winds drift past,
Bringing with them scents,
Of flowers in bloom,
As I stand here alone,
A stranger looking out.

My invisible cage,
Anchors me to the spot.
Trapped in perfection,
A prisoner in life's idillicy.
Forgotten moments,
Imprint deep inside,
As I stand here alone,
A stranger looking out.

Confused? I am. Consistent? I'm not. A letter to my younger self.

Part of the problem with being a little "unpredictable" is the vulnerability that it gives you.  While I'm strong so much of the time, I flip to periods I'm quite detached from my emotions, and can be easily hurt or manipulated then.  I forgive people who do not know this, as this is my fault in my omission if they don't understand my behaviour.   However, I've had experiences throughout my life where people knew exactly what was wrong, and used it for their own gain.

With each stumble in my life (of which there have been many) I know now now that I only become stronger.  Part of me wishes that I could go back and warn myself at the very first moment of darkness in my teenage years... and give myself the clarity of mind to stand up for myself.  To stop the damage the idiots do before they have a chance to get their claws in.  And to tell myself what the hell was going on.  x

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Dear little angel,
Right now the clouds are filling your head,
And it feels like you have nothing more to live for.
You ache with each breath, and long for the world to be filled with light again.
You ask yourself, how can the brilliant person you were last week,
Be reduced to tears on her bedroom floor, carpet pressed against her tear-stained face?
The darkness you feel has crept on so quickly,
Started as a dull ache on your productive week, but built, steadily.
Then, like a lead balloon filled the caverns of your agile mind,
Slowing it to nothing more than a painful whimper.

This feeling, my love, is something you will take a while to understand,
As it's a frequent occurrence in your life to come.
Yet you do nothing to cause it, and you must try to accept it,
As you mind is just playing tricks on you again.
The clouds will roll over you, like a vicious summer storm,
Out of the blue your moments of perfection, inspiration, will be ripped apart.
Where you were once building beautiful words, images, music,
Your soul will have nothing creative left inside.

When the days seem so bleak that you can barely get out of bed,
Don't cry, love.  There's always light at the end of the tunnel.
I know it seems unfathomable, impossible, unreal.
You will ache to be loved and protected more than you could ever imagine,
Sacrificing judgement to satisfy your intense needs.
But love, hold back, and know that the answers you seek aren't there.
You alone can control this feeling that lies in you now,
You alone control the bleak mountain rolling over your head.

My sweetest darling,
The dark desires of your lonely heart, can only be quelled by your happiness,
Built up by routine, expression and exertion.
Things that one day you will learn to lean on.
Structuring your life from the confusion you suffer now,
These moments of darkness you will learn to face,
With a strength right now you are only just learning to master.
Resilience will build up a formidable woman,
Fire in her eyes and a golden desire to succeed.
You will be proud to be who you are, one day.

The moments of light when you can achieve the world,
Will make you more than successful in all that you do.
Like a fern in the woods, you will grow with speeds unknown,
Learning your world and seeing it all unfold before you.
You will reach for the stars, inspired by the bright lights of infinity,
Finding comfort in deep thinking about galaxies beyond.
Your smile will give light to you heart each day,
And you will see in others what you feel yourself so often.

My beautiful butterfly,
When darkness comes, it will be more than manageable,
As distraction's the key to controlling your moods.
You'll carve a life for yourself that will give you the space,
To live and breathe until you're calm again.
Listen to these words as you cry so silently on the floor,
You have no need to fear what you feel, in this moment of darkness now,
As while it hurts so much at this second, you're stronger than this,
It will make you more than you ever thought you could be.

The Ticking Clock in the Dusty Room

Inspired by the photo prompt at Magpie Tales

Lying in a hollow room, the musty smell of years gone by creeps over the pealing walls.  Dust, layered deep into the floor curls like a fires plume with each breath.  Ever inch of this place oozes a sense of death, except for the calm, rhythmic ticking of the old grandfather clock.

Muted, wooded thuds as it beats the drums to the gates of hell, or whatever this place might be.  Reaching upwards, the blood starts pounding in his head, incredible pain, almost overwhelming him.  Flickering vision, eyes as though they might burst from his head.  Desperately fighting the swelling sickness, he tries again to reach for the chair.

The rough, silken dusted surface tries to escape from his weak fingers, but he manages to hold on.  The whole room swimming as though is were a virtual reality booth.  Through the dust caked on his face he tastes dampness, instinctively recoiling - his hand returns a terrible shade of red.

Memories fuzzy, like a lost little fly, floating from flower to dinner to why.  An evening of laughter at a beautiful old theatre... was that tonight?  Or a millennia ago?  "Dong!"  His nonsensical thoughts interrupted by chimes, of the familiar friend in the corner of the room.  Nestled within stacks of yellowed papers.

He hauls his trembling frame on to the chair, surveying the bleak, desolate room.  Evidence lying in the carpeted mist, two footsteps in... dragging something heavy.  A terrified giggle escapes.  Involuntarily breaking the grandfather's rhythm, the hypnotic trace momentarily silent..

Then all of sudden, shimmering light floods the room, blinding his bleary eyes and with the bright dust cloud explosion.  Aghast, he looks at the shadow, a familiar shape outlining the door.  Him.  Again.  "Why?" A mumble was all he could muster.  "Why did you have to do this?"

The laughter was so familiar, so purely evil yet so much his own.  "You know why.  You were weak.  So much potential and you failed to seize it!"  The shadow approached his slumped body, barely able to remain on the chair.  The dark, leather jacket that he wore filled his lungs with a scent he knew so well.

It was futile, to fight against him.  It only made him stronger, a victory battle was what he truly craved.  Tracing the letters out in the thick dusty table in front of him, he looked at the shadow and caught his breath. "Go ahead." he sighed, heavy in his heart.

The shadow looked at him without emotion, without anger, pain or remorse.  Sensing something he had never noticed before, not ever having the need to care to look for it.  It had taken this weak, dirty figure in front of him, with the familiar face and familiar hands, reaching out to him now in his hour of need to realise.

The shadow slowly lowered his arms.  Scooping the battered body of the other in them and bracing to take the strain, chair breathing a sigh of relief.  Looking down, he relinquished as he carried out the poor soul, "I see you at last.  I see who you are.  We are one.  Connected.  The same... I'm... Sorry".