Say what you need to say

An open letter to all of those I miss…

I think of you often. I wish you were still here. You were taken, unexpectedly or purposefully. You left, by accident or by choice. But however and whenever it happened…you are gone. Gone from my everyday. There is a void, an emptiness where you once were. The light of the world has dimmed a little each time with every loss. It’s not as vibrant, or peaceful. It spins on, but it is a lesser place for you not being in it. For some, for many, for…me.

I wish just one more time I could hear your laugh, your insane chuckling laugh, while you were up to no good. You know the one, don’t deny it. It meant trouble was under foot. Something we would joke about and never regret, even when we got caught. Lucky phones weren’t used so much for pictures back then! But it was all just fun, we never caused any harm. I miss that grin, that carefree, no fucks given attitude. Everything was okay, okay?

I miss the way you were rough and tumble, but underneath you had this big soft heart. I miss the way your Mum was so comfortable and happy in a room, until the heaviness of your absence filled it. I miss the cheeky, sassy quips, and the equally caring softness you had about you. I miss seeing the way you made a house a home, and completed a family so perfectly.

I miss your touch, your scent, the way you looked at me like I was the only one in the world, even if just in that moment. I miss craving each other, and the tense anticipation of our next meeting. The ridiculously long phone calls, where we talked about everything, and then some more. My person. I miss falling asleep against your chest, and waking to find myself still in your arms. I miss the way you set yourself free when we were together, as if nothing else in the world should matter…because it didn’t. It felt peaceful, and loved.

I miss your presence in my day. The way you always noticed the things nobody else did…a new perfume, shade of lip colour, haircut, tint in my sunglasses. I miss the random dinners, and cigarette breaks, chocolate visits and conversations. I miss the conversations, where you saw right through the bullshit and cut to the chase. You played a hand in my ‘self’ journey, of seeing that I was more. I couldn’t lie to you, not that I much tried. And I would listen through all the goddamn boring stock-market stories over again, if I could just have more time.

I miss the way you would curl up and sleep with me when I had nightmares, and I knew you were always there. I wish I had known you wouldn’t always be. So many things I would have said, but I didn’t…because I was so young…and I didn’t know. I miss that you called me by a name that nobody else did, and that it was said with pride and love every time. Like I was this special little thing that you loved, and wanted to show off to the world. You just wanted me to be who I was. I loved how you used to put on music and dance around the room, and how sometimes, I think…I hope…I see a little of you in myself. I loved how everyone loved you, and that you had so much passion for everything you did. And how you were so resilient, and creative, and warm. You wrote so beautifully, and my fingers trace those letters even now. I hope you are proud of who I have become, but some days I give myself more cause to wonder.

I miss that you tried so hard to do the right thing by us, and even though you could be so gruff and grumpy, there was no doubt you loved me. Your stubbornness and unwavering resolve made you tough, but she never failed to make you smile at the end of every day. You just lit up around her, and that shell softened. Not your hands though, they weren’t soft!…but your guidance and discipline helped make me who I am, and I am thankful. I miss the hearing the workbooks tromp down the hallway before even the morning light had, and the rumble of the truck engine pulling away. Still. Always.

If only they could see. Maybe they can. Goodnight Kids.
V

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Desert-ed

how-to-find-water-when-youre-stuck-in-the-desertThere is a time when you know you need to just change everything, when you feel boxed in and dark. So you take that step, that huge step, off the edge, and into the abyss. And you fall and fall and fall…and then gently land…and you’re alright. And slowly, the dark fades, and the light starts to creep back into your life, and your eyes. You start to not only feel, but to appreciate. All the small things seem somehow beautiful, because you are finally taking the time to notice them, instead of just focusing on what’s inside, you see around you also. You gain a whole new love of the world, and the beauty of all its tiny intricacies. You renew all the emotions you have lost.
7c23d5d83519aa9362743f7ddf4c577eSo you picture yourself in this massive wide open space, this huge expansive desert. And there you are…this tiny speck from above, in a sea of rolling dunes. There is nobody near for miles and it feels great…all that space. But for just a split second you grow weary from standing, arms stretched to the sky, loving all your space and freedom, the sun raining down on you, and think. Right there is where you should stop that dream. That’s where the dream ends and becomes something entirely different. It becomes alone.

A song plays faintly in the distance from nowhere, someone in a printed shirt, a car, an accent, a look. Fuck you universe. Leave me alone in my desert. That’s why I came here…so you couldn’t find me. Leave me to my peace and strength. But instead you wait for a crack. A 7 day stretch of tiresome days, and consistent wearing down at the emotional rock. You start missing things that are missing, a little too much. The wrong things, the right things….just the missing things. You distort the good and the bad, and just remember what felt good, when it felt good. And those are the nights and days you long for. But the people that held you up when you fell, they are gone too.

You recall with great definition and detail, the way true love and passion felt, purely because it felt real to you, real at the time. You remember the feeling of holding what you wanted in your hands, your arms, your heart. You ignore the rest. The pain and constant heartache and lies. You forget the “I’ll try”s and “soon”s. You wash away ignoring the facts in plain sight, and uncovered secrets whispered in your other ear, by those who cared…more. You remember the touch, the look, the peace. You forget the broken sleep, and more importantly, the broken promises.
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And all the deceit and secrecy now, does it not take a heavy toll? Its burden sits squarely on your shoulders driving you to the ground, to your knees. And in a desert, there is nothing to hold you up but sand. Your dreams are gone, your fairy-tales, replaced with resolve, reality and whiskey on the rocks, and the ground falls away. Alone.
51436cfa144a55810ea2c53c9418b174I have not changed. I am simply becoming myself again. I am the master of my own desert. I am strong and passionate, empathetic, emotional, strong-willed, stubborn and more than fucking enough. I am more than people know, and than I truly believe.

Tomorrow the sun will rise again, and I will step onto the sand feeling new again. The songs will not play as loudly, and the heartache will ease in proportion…I will see friends, and laugh and joke and life will go on, as it does…but for tonight, the desert is a lonely, place, on the rocks.

Stay warm kids, the desert can get cold. Like hearts.
Cheers
V

 

The importance of being important

I see a guy on the street, and he has a dog (not actual pic below). They have a blanket and a bowl, and a bag of things. If I have time, I talk to him, and take him treats or other assorted cash or items, and every day I see him, I can’t help but think that in a way, they are lucky. Not to have nothing, but to have more than some people really do. They have each other, loyalty, and they are grateful for everything they get. He is always lovely and polite. He never asks for anything more than a belly rub for his pup. They make me feel like I have so much more than I deserve, they make me realise a lot…and they make me smile.
I see a woman who travels alone. She is old, and far from where she is from. She uses a roller walker and dresses warmly and beautifully. She sits at the front, and watches the streets pass, the signs and waits for her stop. She offers her seat to all the newcomers, though she is entitled to it in every way. She makes sure she doesn’t take up space or brush people that rudely push past her. I help her each day, get safely down the stairs to solid ground, and she thanks me with a blessing in her sweet old voice, always thanking the driver on her way past. She has and deserves respect…and she makes me smile.

I see a man who gets on the tram in his half expensive suit, with his half expensive tie tucked neatly into it. Scanning the crowd, a small grimace crosses his face, and he blinks it quickly away. He takes all of two seconds to decide that the priority seating is where he should be seated. Unfolding a newspaper, or flipping through very important papers. Perhaps unfolding a very important laptop. Obviously he is very important. Obviously he takes the tram, only because it is accepted in the more mainstream section of the business world. A public chauffeur, because obviously his own personal one is off sick. Or perhaps his very important sports car is in the shop today.
But peeking out from the bottom of his suit legs are well worn, comfortably creased leather shoes, that have lost the majority of their shine. And fraying from the edge of his scarf, is a telltale thread or two, that says he has worn it often to combat the cold. He seems uncomfortable because, well…because he wants to be much more important than to have to travel on a tram with everyone else, like everyone else. And he makes me sad.

Every day, we are creating our own version of a living hell, just by following the greed and calculated insanity of human nature. Progressiveness is leading us into an isolated concrete cubicle, to bend us all over. George Orwell, eat your heart out.
A society where creatures will pay to store in boxes, the things they have collected , but neither use nor need, yet refuse to let go of. Hoarding possessions they are too protective and greedy to relinquish, yet too rational to have filling their lives. Things they have earned. Their things. Precious Thingsssssss.

I admit, I have some of these things…but I am learning to let go. I am feeling how much lighter my life feels, without the clutter of heavy burdens, and the things I no longer need. Because most things are meaningless. They are just things that can be changed, replaced or done without. They are not what makes our lives rich, or make us any more or less important. Things don’t care about you. And they can all be taken away so easily. Property, money…stuff. None of these are any measure, to genuine love, trust, respect or reliability.
What is important is who you are and what you do, not what you have or where you work. What is important is how you treat others, that are simply trying to live inside this same world.

And quite honestly, this doesn’t mean you have to sacrifice anything for anyone else. It doesn’t mean you have to give a fuck what other people think of you. It doesn’t even mean you have to go out of your way to impress or placate..but if you can inspire admiration or respect from strangers, or friends, or lovers without trying to…then I think you are doing it right.

Cheers Kids, have you made anyone smile today?
V

 

The opening act.

So, I’ve made some decisions and plans lately. Not your average, off the cuff kind of things. Not the fleeting things that are fairly inconsequential or lacking in substance. The huge ones. The ones that change everything. To make it just a little clearer than mud, they are the kind that leaves me with the only two things in my life that are constant, remaining. Everything else…nada.

In time, I’ll tell you about them all, as they inspire me to write, to feel, or to vent. For now, let’s just say they are monumentally life changing, and leave it at that.
However there is one catch…

To truly change and move forward, one must let go of what was, to embrace what is, and what will be, or can be. We need to rid ourselves of not only ‘things’, but the ‘things’ our minds also keep. We need to become versed in letting go of the past and things that are bad for us. The things that lingered and stopped us from living the life we deserved, wanted or needed to. Especially the toxic things, or fabrics made of lies.

That’s one of the hardest things in the world to do, for any living soul, that has an ounce of love or compassion in their bones. It is made easier with anger, hurt and pain. It is made easier when you see certain ‘truths’ for the lies that they are, and it is made easier when you start admitting your own self worth and desires.

You see…love is one of the strongest things there is, a force to be reckoned with. It can fix broken things. It is in everything. But the catch is, some people use it, twist it, and then rely on it to save them from consequence. But if you abuse it, disregard it…when it is gone…what can save you then?

So, I will be, moving forward that is. Because everything in my life…it is my story to tell, and the time seems just about right to do that.

I’m guessing that most of you are not going to want to miss this, so you might want to keep an eye out for the next blog. I have been accused of often being vague, misleading (in a harmless way), unfocused and have been told I can digress. This post, will not be one of those. It might be long and difficult to digest…but life often is. It’s really not the happy stroll along the waterfront that you think it’s going to be.

Til then Kids. Get your beauty sleep.
Cheers,
V

 

The other C word

When life gets hurtful, people say there are no words. There are always words…the real problem, is that some cannot put aside their ego or selfishness long enough, or are not strong or honest enough to say them. Because words make how you feel into reality. Words like Love, sorry, promise, loyal, hurt or goodbye. They put a part of you out there in the world in some way, to be acknowledged in some way, to be seen. Some people are not real enough, to use words.

If there was a word for this, what I feel now, above all others, it would be conflict. It was even a conflict, as to whether or not to write here, yet, or ever again. Because I currently have little tolerance for anyone or anything. I have depleted people skills other than wanting near everyone to just fuck off and leave me to my own devices, and no desire to share personal feeling with anyone, let alone that one person. I can likely rest safely assured however, that he will not read this, and has happily turned away, seemingly secure in the knowledge, that he never has to set eye on me, my writings, or anything else to do with me ever again. And I have accepted that is what he wants. I have accepted many things in that regard.

Me however, I am caught/torn in this intense situation. A cocoon if you will. It is this painfully real transformation of one thing into another. A myriad of truth and painful realisations.

It’s like piecing this puzzle together, as as it all slides into place a light comes on, and then the ground drops from beneath your feet. All you feel is falling, and after a while you stop fighting it…

It’s not just feeling down. It’s an intense feeling–as intense as any you’ve ever felt–of betrayal, profound and irredeemable sadness, and despair. It bounces between needing and not wanting.

It has a lot of different feels, and lack thereof. The common factor, is that it all feels so fucking hard to do. Every little thing. Talking, eating, moving…and then you go to sleep (if at all possible), wake up, and it’s the same all over again. It takes the form of anger, irritability, resentment, hurt or just a deep chasm of emptiness. It is a near complete lack of sensory input.

It has been a calm rational thought ‘I should kill myself’ or ‘I am nothing’ and it didn’t even feel like sadness. It can be very cognitive, like -the world is an evil place, and people are heartless. You just feel the light drain from your eyes, and the eyes drain from your smile, and wonder if anything can ever bring it back.

Then, in stark contrast, there is this opposing desire to be strong and overcome. There is a passion to prove, that if I can make it through a minute, a day, and a week, then there is hope to survive another yet. And then defiance, opportunity, plans and other things creep in and push, whisper, push…to keep going. To do better. That there is more.

So, here’s where it changes, just one last time. Just as others have made choices, so have I. Only these ones are honest, resolute, progressive and some, concrete.

They are selfishly only for me, and surging with primitive desire to not only survive, but succeed. They are raw, spontaneous, laden with fear, anticipation and change, but I’m making them anyway. I can no longer stand still. Because if I do…I won’t make it. I can’t just exist any more.
Hence, I’m not sure what you all do for shits and giggles on a Friday, but I’m pretty sure it’s not diagrammatic reasoning, cognitive ability, personality factoring, verbal aptitude, inductive reasoning, psychometric and situational judgement testing. But today that has been my program, and a doorway to other things. Out of this closed dark room in my head and my house, drapes pulled shut.

I have this world of possibilities and new options in front of me, and I have to piece it all together again, but I will, because I can. I have done this before, clawed my way out of the dark…it sharpened my nails.

This time the hole is darker, deeper, and full of the broken bones of promises with debris of scattered dreams…but this time I know which way is up. And I will do it the only way I have ever done anything. Alone.
I just…need a minute.

Always know which direction you’re heading in Kids.
V