Tuesday, 2 April 2013

The Cut/My Heart Is A Dodo.

It is not as if, I have never lost before...true, it must be said I have never taken many risks. Not with anything other than my own body. My own mind. I don't... "Put myself out there...." I hate even the sound of it. Perhaps it's mere snobbery... But, I guess that is too easy an answer. It's just... Well, I suppose the reality is also simple. I never liked to create trouble. As a kid I wanted to be the easy one.
The one no one needed to bother with. I didn't cause ripples. I did all I could not to cause any waves. Any movement at all. I waited. Always waited to be told what I should do. Was quiet to the point of awkwardness. Opening my mouth to speak without a question to prompt it... I would wait...wait with a lump in my throat. The myriad of things I left unsaid... That I broke at 15....was inevitable I see now.
It didn't come from no where. It wasn't even the murder of my friend. It was. Just the little things.
When it gets to the point where I stand with scissors in hand at the sink I always know something somewhere needs to move. Life has become stagnant...so I cut my hair...because I can...it's only ever been so frustrating that I contemplated shaving my head completely..once. Because I piss myself off.
Sitting on my hands. Waiting for some invisible force to tell me what I should do.
Tired of the way my face stares back at me from the mirror. Tired of keeping myself upon a leash, I begin to look at all I do as though it were all a waste. Wondering when this amazing thing that is going to define what I am will be done. As I stand at the windows at work...drawing coffee cups...teapots...nothing that matters...it all seems so easy. Easy and pointless. these words. are just of this moment. Another night another film half watched as I speak to myself. I have sunk into the sofa. I peel myself away and go pace the kitchen. I'm not having enough fun. that's actually pretty funny in it's self is it not? Just work, then home, then work again. I miss walking around in the darkness of the city. I worry that I do not have what it takes to do astonishing things. Or that I have not reached a level from where it is within reach. That it requires me to break more. Suffer more. Is that still the way I think this thing works? No...no, that girl does not exist any longer. I do not seek destruction.
But him. It creeps back to him. And the way in which I have learnt to love. Without condition or reason.
I have loved him for longer than even the most illogical hearts have loved.
And I always felt it ridiculous. When I first realised how I felt I literally laughed out loud at myself in disbelief. Thinking that by then at least, I should have known better.
That seemingly harmless kiss upon the head as he left the shop one day. I'm sure he had'nt a clue...
But it struck me down. Behind the til where I stood at work I was dumbfounded.
Fair to say that he came along at a time when I was more than a little...dead inside for want of a better or more poetic way of putting it. I was finished.empty. But doing a really good impression as far as I could tell, of a girl who was doing just dandy.not making waves... I didn't want to feel anything. Least of all love.
 Some how I found myself wanting, with such strength the whole soul of another human being.
Though why that shocks me I haven't a clue...and why it matters, sitting here. Talking to no one.
...I search through previous acts of stupidity for clues as to what part of my psychology needs to be smacked out of me.
But I am being unkind to myself. Forgetting that I taught myself to be this way.
As a child it made sense. That sensitive kid who learnt that what was in her heart was too intense.
Should be hidden. I never learnt how to blend the two together. The real world, and my sappy over feeling heart.
It feels as though it's somewhat like a fledgling bird...and every leap leaves me only on a lower branch longing to be back in the nest. Worried that it is in fact a penguin or a dodo even...that lives inside my chest. Not made to fly.
Over dramatic fool... Though I half believe it to be true.
Perhaps, there in lies the problem.

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