Broken strings & Pretty things

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

Archive for the month “April, 2014”


Do you ever have that feeling when you just can’t free your thoughts from their locked up cages?

When your head is alive and constantly ticking and will never cease to stop wondering, longing and hoping? When your days are so consumed by exploring the myriad of paths and decisions you could have taken, or should have taken, or possibly never will; when you are so perplexed about the ultimate eventuality of all of the choices you have made, and what havoc their bitter sweet consequences will wreak?

I’ve been wanting to write for so long, to write about the constant circling path I’m taking in my head, but the words just dry up.
Because right now inspiration is fleeting and consequences are the only topic that seems to be plaguing my mind. The consequences of what I think, and say, and do; and what I could have thought and said and done.

And it frustrates me, because I no longer know how to transpose this whirlwind of confusion and disaster and utter missing into the words I usually find so naturally. This time it appears that I just cannot formulate words into a pattern of any kind. My timid thoughts would much rather reside locked up in my conciousness where they can  parasitically take captive everything I once held dear.

Because there is so much I long to write about.

I long to write about the desperate yearning for my best friend to come back, and be here, and be safe.
I long to write about my bewildered search for God as I am constantly dazed by the confusion of what is truth and what is fiction.
I long to write about my fears and insecurity and the compulsion for self-undermining.

I long to be able to write again, and most of all I long to be free again.

I don’t wish for easy options or an open exit, but I wish for the end of stagnation and the first few steps of getting out of this self-inflicted cave I choose to live inside.
But I remain hopeful, and I remain faithful. Because one day I will escape this cavern and climb that mountain, regardless of the consequences.


I wouldn’t.

I would wait for the day that the sun shines its iridescence
into the shadows of your face
And beckons you in with all its glory

I would wait for the day where the raindrops
are the rivers that stain your face
And that pain is a long forgotten handshake
of a former acquaintance

I would wait for the day when the last goodbyes
are the ones that are scheduled
And that the first hellos
come with their own warranties

And I would dream that you do not once more
rest your head in a blanket of sorrows
or stand in a crowd with no name
or miss another turning
or feel another scorch of heart break.

But I simply could not. Nor would I.
For the very blood in my veins knows

That pain is empathy and strength and compassion
and travesty is a breaker of the body but a healer of the soul
it will shake you, and mould you to the point that
even your insides are made of more
than Demeter’s simple building blocks

Anguish unites but brokenness divides
Because no ounce of happiness will ever
undermine the prevail or content
of the injured whose wounds will not be licked.


Days pass.


Weeks roll by.


Months go by.


And I don’t know whether it’s worse knowing that it’s my choice letting you go, or that you’d leave if I didn’t. Because one of the most gut wrenching parts is knowing that you belong in the brighter days when the sunshine hit your hazel eyes; because loving someone beyond limits can also mean letting go to the people who were always there.

Because this time we can’t talk about it and pretend that me loving someone else isn’t painful, or destructive or insignificant. Coffee can’t fix broken hearts and it sure as hell can’t fix us. We can’t continue this play when the curtain has already fallen. We’ve both made our exits.

Because cursing my name and calling and creating memories aren’t the things that made you the person I saw you as. You were sunshine and happiness and safety. These days, I don’t even know your name. We’re merely strangers held together by some recollection of a former joy. But memories are memories and sometimes good things have to come to an end. No matter how much I wish they didn’t.

I treasured you. And I really wanted this to work. I wanted to be able to look at you without pain, or disappointment or bewilderment. I wish that you could be happy. I wish it didn’t have to end like this.

I wish you didn’t make me want to hate myself for falling in love.

So walk away and take that train. Walk away from me and everything our friendship once posed. Walk away because I think that if one of us doesn’t, there is no chance we can ever come back.

So take that final bow. It’s closing time.

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