These Two Events Can Occur Simultaneously. Being Happy With What You Have And Who You Are Whilst Wanting

“These two events can occur simultaneously. Being happy with what you have and who you are whilst wanting to improve upon your life and yourself. You’re allowed to be content and discontent, satisfied and unsatisfied, appreciative and longing. It may seem contradictory, but it’s not. You have to know what you currently have to know what you want. And if you don’t value what you have now, you’ll never value what you gain.”

-Happy New Year

My Ship pt 3

So when I was forced to flee,

To escape your toxic clutches,

I left half of what I was,

With my ship destroyed and rusted.

A cautionary tale for young travellers at sea,

Do not stop at any nearby beach,

Your trust will be exploited and your kindness betrayed,

Remain free on the sea for all your days.

Mercilessly, I throw daggers at everyone around me,

I carve my “confidence” into my surroundings

And cut anyone that ever doubted me.

Carelessly, my sharp tongue slices wounds into others,

Until my blade is used so frequently it dulls

And you can’t tell the difference between it

And a bitter breeze.

But my own sharp tongue cuts my mouth,

And I choke on my words until my throat bleeds,

My wounds never heal and they keep getting deeper,

Until I can hardly feel anything.

No matter how hard I try to stop,

I lose every battle against myself

And my relentless words will continue to cut,

Until none of my “self” remains.

My Ship pt 1

I traversed the stormy sea day and night,

I felt the wind in my hair, the salt on my tongue and had no plight,

I set course to wherever the wind blew me,

And after years of not knowing what home is,

I decided I’d try and find an island,

A safe haven, with golden sands and shallow, peaceful waters

So I found you.

I

I smile.

Shoulders square, back straight, feet planted firmly in the ground.

If I squint slightly when I laugh it’s more believable.

They won’t notice.

I speak.

Voice loud, strong, pitch low, it bellows through the room.

If I raise my voice on every-other syllable it sounds more believable.

They won’t notice.

I move.

Averagely-paced, deliberate movements, flowing slightly.

If I lean forward with purpose as I walk it looks more believable.

They won’t notice.

I’m getting better.

They never notice, they never will.

I’m fine. Really.

No one would suspect me,

Because I’m the best actress alive,

That’s the only thing I’m certain of.

So when I say I’m fine,

They believe me.

And now, they don’t even ask.

The seconds count

Isn’t it odd that of all the hands on a clock, the second hand, bearing the smallest, shortest moments, ticks the most? Each tick sounds through our ears reminding us that every single second is an opportunity lost, or taken. And let us not abandon the fact that of all the hands on a clock, the second hand, bearing the smallest, shortest moments, is longer than the minute hand, and the hour hand. Because a second that passes could last a lifetime, remembered more than the hours and minutes and days that pass.