Broken strings & Pretty things

The world, seen through a young girl's eyes.

Archive for the month “August, 2013”

Fire and ice.

You’re passion and burning red.
You’re conversations at 2am ending with cursing or crying or wrapped in your arms in my car. You’re saying that there is nothing left and finding ourselves in a serendipitous embrace. You’re giving and taking away; you’re the perfect opportunity snatched away by a fleeting sense of terror. You try to say goodbye yet will never fail to rush in with the first hello. You love to break me down and place me on a pedestal. You’re bitter sweet. You’re so intensely interesting and so irrevocably annoying. You’re wonderfully, and hopelessly, flawed. You’re emotionally stunted and phobic of any form of commitment, and the first person to wipe the tears away from my eyes. You’re cocky and self concious and arrogant and humble and intelligent and reckless and careless and always there and think too much about others’ opinions and will lose anything to protect those who you love.
You’re juxtaposition and complete contradiction. You’re hating and loving someone at the same time. You’re everything I’ve never wanted, yet something I just can’t bear to lose.

You’re tranquillity and beauty.
You’re the archetypal gentleman. You’re long walks in the sunshine and lying down in a field until the sun goes down. You’re drinking tea on rainy Sunday afternoons and talking extensively about things I was always told were stupid. You go the extra mile. You plan days out far in advance for us to go on an adventure. You’re kind and courteous and careful. You’re understanding and open and willing. You’re giving me your jacket when you’re freezing and I’m fine. You’re charming and beautiful and enchanting. You’re deep Peridot eyes. You’re simple and happy and loving. You aren’t a maze of trouble and tears and regret: only happiness. You take things slow. You’re going away, yet eager to stay beside. You will never stop trying.
You’re the exact person I was always searching for. You’re the one to prove that romance isn’t dead. You’re peace from the world and, to me, you’re absolutely perfect.¬†You’re everything I’ve ever wanted.

I can’t tell who my heart is telling me, and which is from my head. Because you are both so profoundly heart wrenching, and I don’t know whether playing with fire would merely leave me burned, like all the other times, or whether ice would merely chill my bones. I don’t know how to let go, when both of you make me cling so tight. How do I possibly choose between two people who are equally wonderful?



Thank you for staying.

Thank you for coming back.

Thank you for staying, when I really thought that you were lost.
I missed your mannerisms and faux nonchalance and the way you chuckle when you find something surprising. I missed the smell of your jacket and your cups of tea and the way you can’t leave your hair alone for five minutes. I missed you being the first person I run to when I’m excited or alone or crying or have any excuse to see you.

Because nothing was quite right when you were gone. Sure I could be happy, and sure I could get by quite fine, but something was unmistakably missing: I’d lost my dearest friend.
And maybe for a long part it was me who was missing. Because, for a while, it was you who was reaching out and there was no reply. There were so many nights where I almost called you and cried down the phone because the overwhelming nature of being unable to live with or without your presence was too much for me to hold. But the fear of another goodbye was too much for me to grant yet another hello. So I dug my head deep in the ground where your chuckle and smell and hair-touching couldn’t find me.

But living in deceit could never last. Because, darling, you have such a hold on me. You’re lovely and intoxicating and wonderful and brilliantly flawed. I knew it as soon as our faces next met. No matter how high the walls are, they will never prevent your from passing through. Because you make me happy, and I could never lose that joy you bring me. Not for anything.
You make life brighter and hopeful and comfortable, but not in the sense that could ever make me complacent. No, you’re so aggravatingly complex and poignant and so unlike the others. And you’re always there.

I just can’t escape from you.
But that’s okay. Because, honestly, I wouldn’t have it any other way.


I remember writing so many of these posts broken and crying on the floor.

I remember telling myself that it would get better and that I could still reach the ends of the earth; that a sob story did not have to dictate my life. But honestly, no matter how much I spoke it over my life, I only half believed it. Because when you are trapped in a situation with no sign of things getting brighter, hope does tend to wear thin. At points I was pretty sure fatigue would prevent me from fighting against the current and pushing against it all, and occasionally it was so tempting to just crawl into bed and sleep until it was all over.

But that’s not how life works. Life doesn’t stop in the envelope of bed covers, and at some point cold hard reality will wake you up.
Sometimes you do just have to slip into survival mode for a while in order to just keep going: to just work, eat and sleep. Sometimes you will just have to let yourself cry on the kitchen floor when it gets tough. Sometimes you just have to accept you may not see an outcome, but there is one coming as fast as it can.

What I adore about this blog is the hindsight it gives me. I love being able to see how I felt all those weeks ago where I was struggling each day and being able to know now that it wasn’t in vain; that when I said I knew life would one day become brighter and happier, it would actually happen. Because although I’m still pushing through so much strife and know that I am far from the end of it all, I know that things do get better. I know that despite the hurt and pain and tears, God blesses me so much every day through my work and friends and opportunities. On those nights where I sat alone at my dining room table thinking l would only fail, God was still holding my hand and gently pulling me on, knowing that I would make it, and that I would be able to achieve my dreams.

Because, though there may be pain in the night, joy comes in the morning. And little do we all know, we are so tremendously blessed. A blessing doesn’t have to be a divine miracle, but the comfort and love of friends, or when hard work is paid off, or even still having hope when things don’t look like they will get better.

I have been so blessed by God these past eight months, and it is only now that I’m really learning this.
So I thank you God, and I thank you all for your support, kindness and encouragement to keep me going through all of this.
Thank you. Each and every one of you.


“Life is so full of unpredictable beauty and strange surprises. Sometimes that beauty is too much for me to handle. Do you know that feeling? When something is just too beautiful? When someone says something or writes something or plays something that moves you to the point of tears, maybe even changes you.”

Mark Oliver Everett


One of the hardest lessons in life is that you can’t stop people from leaving, and watching them slip away is even harder.

You watch people fall through your fingers like sand and realise there is no way to keep them there in your hands; that there is no way of grasping on and keeping them. Even through clenched fists and desperate clutches, all you can feel is the steady stream of their passing away from you. The fog soon rolls in and before you know it, with a faint thump, they are gone.
And you have to be fine with that. You have to be fine to let them go and watch them fade into the background. You have to be fine with keeping memories rather than creating new ones. You have to be fine with the missing gap. You have to be fine readjusting to a life that doesn’t feature their presence. And most of all, you have to be fine as they grow far away from you.

Because I had to watch you leave and be happy, although you were the one person whom I couldn’t bear to lose. I had to slowly let you fall out of my hands and appear happy because you were doing it for me. I had to say goodbye for the last time when I thought that it was only the beginning. I had to stop breathing your smile and stop tasting your laugh and trade it all in for nothingness, not because it would save you, but because you thought that it would save me.

And I now have to slip through your fingers because I can’t stay where you want me to, no matter how wonderful you are to me. You can no longer be the thought which brightens up my morning. I can no longer allow you to be the first person I call when I’m alone, or the first person I need when everything starts to get grey. Your home can no longer be my haven in the midst of all the chaos. No matter how many times you tell me that you want to be there for me and care for me, I just can’t let it happen.
I can’t keep holding onto sand.

We’re both free falling, Far away from each other.

A month to remember.

Uganda was beautiful.

Whether it was serving a rural village by building latrines, or meeting orphaned children, or climbing mountains, or swimming in the Nile, or teaching in schools, or seeing wild animals, or exploring remote islands, or visiting health clinics or simply immersing myself in the African culture, I have had the most wonderful experience of my life.

I saw the world with fresh eyes. I saw emotion in its most dazzling depth; I saw the purest glimmer of joy and the darkest shadow of helplessness. I tasted both the sweetness of joy and the sobering reality of poverty. I heard faith and content and the ripple of a disgruntled heart.
Because I saw reality. I saw that the world contains so much raw beauty, yet equally so much cold cutting travesty. I saw more than a lens could decipher and felt more than a stroke of piano keys could portray. Because the curtain of a comfortable life was torn and the act of being desensitised was undone; I could no longer turn a blind eye.

Rather than marching out into the world, planning to make a change, I soon discovered that it would be the world that would change me. It was the essence of seeing that our lives are not as simple or as easy as they seem; that they are not as efficient and flawless as we do our best to show. Rather than speaking to others, it was they who spoke to my heart. It was their kindness, their faith, their joy, their misery and hopelessness; it was their laughter and their curses.

I found meaning at the top of a mountain rather than surrounded by the four confines of a building.
And it was beautiful.

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