I Read Somewhere The Other Day How Would You Describe Your Current Season In Life? Heres My Answer:

I read somewhere the other day “how would you describe your current season in life?” here’s my answer:

I think I would say winter. But not the cold peak winter. It’s like, you’ve been through the harsh, painful winter storms, but you aren’t completely out of it. Spring is coming soon, but you still aren’t sure when. I’ve walked through the ice and rain; I endured it. I lost my warm coat on the way. I could’ve made it out in a better condition, but I made it out. It’s the last stretch of winter. A few light drizzles and heavy rains come at me, but I know spring is near. I've almost made it, and that’s all that matters.

“Experience is a brutal teacher, but you learn fast.”

— William Nicholson

did i know you?

i still think of you

a passing thought in my mind's traffic.

i pay no attention,

"ignore it and it'll go away"

most days, it works.

but some days, in the dead of the night

when the darkness engulfs

both me and my musings,

it does not work.

it does not work and I reach out,

clutching that thought,

clinging to it

the idea of you.

the you I've built in my head.

the you who's soft as the petals of a rose,

comforting like a cup of warm chocolate.

but it isn't real,

it never was.

the real you pricks me

like the thorns of that very rose;

the real you is cold, indifferent.

or maybe,

i don't know you.

my mind deceives me,

there is no black and white,

only a grey haze.

as my fingers hover over your name on my phone,

i pull them back.

maybe I know you, maybe I don't.

maybe I miss you, but it's not enough.

your thorns have pricked me more than once.

so I still think of you,

but I'll never let you know.

I will say it again : nothing is permanent

Coming to terms with loss is one of the most gut wrenching experiences. You are completely helpless, you begin to realize nothing ever belonged to you or was yours to begin with.

Sea of Strangers

In a sea of strangers, you’ve longed to know me. Your life spent sailing to my shores.

The arms that yearn to someday hold me, will ache beneath the heavy oars.

Please take your time and take it slowly; as all you do will run its course.

And nothing else can take what only— was always meant as solely yours.

- Lang Leav, Sea of Strangers

i've gotten so used to it,

living with that buzz in my brain.

the background noise

telling me to move,

do something

it whispers of incomplete tasks and

people lost along the way

i've gotten so used to it though,

that it merely adds

a touch of weight to my shoulders,

disappearing when my mother pulls them back, correcting my posture.

the sound is all but gone

when i'm with my friends,

shouting out the lyrics

of the songs that shaped our childhood,

looking out of the car window

as the glowing lights flash past.

red, white, warm yellow.

the sound is gone

until i'm alone again.

but, still, it's nothing more than a buzz

one i ignore,

telling myself i'm fine.

the new year's given me that:

the ability to believe I'm fine, truly.

i've been walking at the edge of the waves

positivity, optimism, gratitude.

i repeat these, louder than the buzz,

but the waves gently lick at my feet,

threatening to wreck all I've built

the sandcastle standing precariously

on foundations of a new year and hopeful words.

i'm scared of my poetry now.

words i pulled out of my chest

by piercing my heart with thorns and needles

until they spilled out,

red and raw.

but i've decided to do it anyway.

pick up the pen

and momentarily

invite the buzz into the foreground.

dig holes that welcome the sea in streams

into the moat around my sandcastle.

it's a new year

so i've decided to trust myself.

trust that i can control the stream.

trust that my words won't drown me

and if they do—

trust that i can get back up to the surface.