Breakable

I don't mean to hurt you. I do it by accident. A few words and I can break you into a million pieces. I tip-toe around you, trying not to cause any damages, but somehow I always do. I watch what I say, making sure none of it could hurt you, but then you catch me off guard, and I said something that hurts you.

It is all because of the feelings you have for me. It makes you breakable and delicate. Anything I say to you gets analysed closer than anything would from someone else, so something bad that is said, seems so much worse coming from me. I don't resent you for it, I do it to sometimes. It just makes things complicated.

You are just so fragile. I know you don't mean to be, but you are. A dew words and you can be hurt. I suppose I can be too, it isn't just you. Yet your feelings for me can make you hurt more than most.

I try to hold you together. I try to glue you back to how you were, but there is always a piece missing. You are never the same as you were before I broke you. You have always been changed and altered slightly, and I'm worried if I keep on breaking you, then eventually there will be nothing left. I can see the damage I do to you. I see it every day when I look at you.

Then I think I have got you glued up again, and you are fixed and ready to be sent out on your own. I cradle you and try to make sure no one hurts you, as you have been told, I'm very protective over you, but I can never protect you enough. Someone always comes along and breaks you again. Maybe that is my problem. I cradle you so hard and try to protect you from everything, that I don't see someone coming to hurt you.

Sometimes it is me. I say something and you get hurt. You break and I work to rebuild you again. I push all the pieces together carefully, fitting them together like a puzzle. though the picture has been distorted. Yet, sometimes it isn't me who breaks you. Someone else comes along and undoes all my hard work. They come along and wash away the glue, and make you fall to pieces again. My work can be broken in seconds.

Then it comes to me. One day I might not be there to pick you up and fix you. Who will be there to rebuilt you then? I will have to pass on everything I know to someone else. The thought cripples me. A stranger rebuilding you. Putting their hands on the person I have been rebuilding for years. The one who I cradled and soothed when they were in pain. The one who has been through everything with me, and we both got out on the other side. Who is this stranger that has come to replace me? I can't let go of you. Ever.

Battles

A wise friend once told me that there were too many battles going on inside my head. I was fighting them silently and they were causing harm to me, without me even realising it.

But isn't that what life is? One big fight between doing what is right, and what is fun? Between what is socially acceptable, and what you accept within yourself? Between hurting yourself, or hurting someone else? Between trying to please the people close to you, and still doing what is right for you? Between changing for someone, and yet not losing sight of who you were first?

Isn't it all about getting the right balance? It isn't that you have to choose between them, you just have to choose the right amount of each. You don't get one or the other, you can have the best of both. But we all know that sometimes it doesn't work out like that. You don't always get the best of both, sometimes you get the worst. You get the worst possible outcome, which is often the one that doesn't please anyone.

It's not the choices we make in life, it is the way we handle the outcome, that makes us who we are. We can make the best of a bad situation, and this makes us a better person.

So aren't all these battles inside my head in fact a good thing? They make me a stronger person, and give me the skills to make the right choices the next time the battle comes around. So tell me this, why should I work to get rid of the battles in my head, when they are making me stronger?

But you are....

How can you be that amazing and not know it? Can't you see that you are making the world a better place by just being alive? Why can't you understand that you light up the room when you walk into it, and you can capture everyones attention by just smiling?
How can you be this perfect and not see it? I wish you could see that as soon as you are there, I forget anything that has happened ad the whole situation is perfect. I told you ever day, would you understand that if I had the chance, I wouldn't change one little think about you? I love everything about you, but I know you cannot see that.
How can you be that considerate, and not see you are? You take everyone else's lives above your own, and would be willing to mess your own up to get them to the top. When did you become so humble? Were you born with it, or did you become considerate when you were older?

When did being modest become cute? When did being stubborn become adorable? When did you stop seeing all these things that you are?

This is me.

I am controlling. I take comfort in knowing that I am in charge of what happens to me. I feel safe in what I know, and what I can change. I am calmed by the knowing that nothing happens without me planning and evaluating it first, weighing up the possibilities and all outcomes, till, after much thought, I chose a path to take.

I am needy. I depend on what I know won't leave. I trust with little ease, but when I trust, I trust with my whole self. I seek the stability that I know comes with independence, and self-reliance. Yet. knowing this doesn't make me any less dependent on others. I share out problems with my friends, but it is often too late to help.

I am fragile. I am easily broken and hard to fix. I am hurt by the smallest of things, and can be hurt for a life time. I will dwell on something that has made me hurt, until I am finally ready to expel it from my mind. It will control my every thought and movement until that day that I can finally let go.

I am insecure. I am constantly evaluating myself and comparing me against others. In me, I see many qualities I despise, and that in other people would cause me to turn and walk away from them. The qualities I see will be heighten when I know they are there, and this causes me confusion and hatred towards myself.

This is me. I am all of these things, but I am also a lot more. Those who dwell on the bad side of me never get to see the good side. My loved ones will look past my flaws and even embrace them. For they love me for who I am, and always will.

Do you?

A simple conversation. A hug. A smile across a room. That's all it took for me to love you. An hour and I knew you were special, I knew you were going to mean a lot to me. And look at us now sweetheart, look what we have become. 

People warned me away from you. Different things worried them and things didn't quite sit right in their heads with us. True we are different to most people, but isn't that what makes us amazing? We ignored their warnings, we carried on as we were, and now, here we are.

Just being with you was enough to make me smile. Sitting, talking, listening. Just simple. My friends used to get annoyed when I kept talking about you, about what had happened. They teased me about you, saying I like you. I denied it, of course, but they didn't know that I actually did. 

Now I don't talk about you that much. It's just too complicated. Words don't do it justice. How do I describe everything that we have been through? It was too amazing to try to put into words. The conversations, the feelings, the looks you give me. It is locked away into my memory, but I would never do it justice by explaining it. 

You mean so much to me now. not just an ordinary friend, but not anything more either. You are just that amazing person that lives within my mind, in your own little section. I think what it would be like to have you to myself. Just us. That day would be the best. Free to do whatever we want, without any complications. No restrictions, not having to conform to the views of society. 

Do you even think like that? Try and see us together. Imagining what could happen, imagining a future. When you look forwards, who do you see standing next to you, if anyone? Have you thought about what to say to my parents? Do you even see yourself with me?

Well my dear, do you?

One day

One day you are going to wake up and realise I am not who you think I am. You will see through the act, see who I really am. You will see the true horror within me, and run scared. You let you defences down, and now you have cared for a true monster.

One day you are going to see through the lies and tricks, see through my defences and look into the true heart of me. You will stand and look upon true evil and question your own judgement. You will witness the innocence of the young turn into desperation of the tortured.

One day you are going to doubt who I am, who you though I was, and who you thought I was going to grow into. You will see the young girl you once loved slip away, into everything you always hated. You will see the change within her immediately, yet the feelings you have for her are compelling you to stay.

One day you are going to walk away, hate who I am and move on. You will leave me and never look back. You will rid me from your memory, and only think of me when you think of hate. The dark thoughts inside your head, hidden in a terrible place, will lead you to think of me.

One day you are going to wonder what you ever saw in me, and you will realise your own stupidity. You will always think twice before loving someone so young again. The things you once loved about me, and now the things you hate the most, because they are the things that have changed.



One day you will realise that everything I warned you about was true.

People ask me what I dream

The colours exploded in my mind as the world lays dormant around me. The fire dances at my feet as I can feel the waves of heat rise onto me. Orange and red tongues lash out to grab me, trying to consume my whole body. Those eyes that stare through the fire never leave. That smug look on the face of the man who is trying to kill me.

Pulling at the ropes binding me to the wood, I feel it rising. The flames are just blow my feet and the heat is becoming too much for my uncovered body. The smoke makes me gasp for breath and my body moves with the fire, almost as one.

I can feel it climbing up my leg. The flames burning at my skin, threatening to rip me open. The cracking sounds around me are drowned out by my screaming. The eyes slowly look away as he turns to leave, ready to move on.

All I can see now is flames. They have engulfed my whole body, all the way up to my head. I can no longer feel where each body part begins and the other ends. I don't know how much of me is left, or how much the fire has eaten away. The wood breaks and I am thrown down into the fire once more.

The coldness hits as I wake. My breath, fast as I struggle to stop the screaming. My mind tries to make sense of all the strange shapes around me, and recognise where I am in the darkness. The pain is gone and the world is no longer alight. The fear of the fire is gone but I am too scared to go back to sleep.

Every night, this is what I dream.

Relaxing?

Ah the joyous half-term is apon us. That amazing time when the children are taken out of school and whisked away to a fun packed adventure holiday.
The ride there commences. The car is packed up and the fight for who gets control over the music begins. The car is too hot, then too cold. The traffic jam means the drive is going to take longer. But what do the children do? Moan.
They are excited for the first few days, then the parents want a break so they have a day in. What do the children do? Moan.
You tell them to go and make their own fun. Go for a walk, go for coffee with their sister, and what do they do? Moan.
When that day of rest is over, the activities resume. The walking everywhere begins, the running and the cueing begins. But what do the children do? Moan.

Back at home. Relax. It's over. The small ones will be running off with their friends. They are out everyday and you can relax.
They are sat at home, the rain pouring down outside. Their friends are busy and the house is just so boring. You tell them to get out from under your feet as you have things to do. But what do they do? Moan.
It's nearly over. They will be back at school soon. Just one more day. The school uniform is in the washing. School bags are ready, and the pack lunches are just waiting to be made. Yet, your little angel wants their rugby top, sparkly jeans, your earrings. What do they do? Moan.

7:00 comes around and you wake them up with breakfast and a cup of tea, trying to make the first day back easier. They roll over and throw you out of the room. Then the rush begins for the bathroom, breakfast, and clothes. What do they do? Moan.
Out the door at 8:15 and in the car. Everyone at different places, different times, different people to pick up. The fight for the front seat begins. What do they do? Moan.
Through the door is your angels, with their hair tangled, clothes dirty and lunch half eaten. The conversation is forced as you try to find out how their day was. Arguments have already began, the teacher was ill, and the books were in the wrong place. No one asks you how your day was. All they do? Moan.

Children. Those little bundles of joy that bring smiles to everyones faces as they laugh along with the adults, never quite understanding. When did it change from the quiet giggles to the moaning children? Aren't holidays meant to be relaxing?

Change...

What was the point? It all ended for no reason. Well, there was a reason but it wasn't a good enough one to throw all of that away. One text. That's all it was. One stupid text. 


None of them deserved this. He has mucked everything up. The whole family has just gone. He took his daughters with him. Her daughter's sisters. They don't want to talk to the daughter now. All over that stupid argument. She took the mothers side, they took his. Everyone could see it coming. Yet, she gets shouted at for it?


She still has to see him at school. Everyday seeing his face. Knowing the effect he had on her mother. Sit in his classes. Pretend like nothing has happened. How is she meant to do that? 


She never used to get attached to the mother's boyfriends, because she knew they would always leave. Except this one was different. She let her guard down and started to accept him. It took a while, but she did. Then he did what all the others did. Leave. It doesn't matter why he left, he just did. 


Her whole life is up in the air now. Her friends don't know what to do. They give her sympathetic looks and kind words, but none of it helps. They all go around the subject, but it just hangs in the air. An elephant in the corner.


The house looks empty without his stuff. All of those pictures will have to be taken down. Of him and her. Of all of them. She wont want them, neither will he. Maybe he will secretly take one of all of them when he leaves. Something to remember them all by. It can't have all been bad. He loved them all before didn't he? He must have done. 


How will she cope through it? The change. It's all come at the wrong time. Everything has changed so much already, and more will again. The mother is strangely fine. Coping well. Better than she is by far.


So much stupid change.