Compassion: 
Baby, baby you in there? I push open the door, the music blasting penetrating the walls of the apartment… I enter the room and there you are with your back to me, her leg in your hand. I want to say you’re kissing which indeed you are but I can imagine how her lips taste to you. Like the best wine, you have ever tasted. Those moans don’t escape your lips when you kiss me…  Should I be thankful you didn’t see me. I back away slowly, biting back the tears. More tears of defeat than anything else I can think of.  I go into the lounge hoping I look like I do everyday… Sunshine, because that’s what society wants to see. I take my bag; I forget to close the door so no one sees me leaving. No one comes after me, more confusion as to why I’m leaving in the first place, without you… I hear it made sense when you came back, and she came after you… When you’re in a big room full of people, it’s hard to miss a face or two… The re-entry is hard to miss no matter how many faces. You didn’t have to ask where I was, you felt it. You run down the flight of stairs, you’re greeted by pouring rain. Where did it come from? When did it start raining? Where could I be? You get into your car, she rushes out into the rain, and through the window, you see her lips moving, can you still taste them? The way they kissed you? You pull out of the driveway leaving her in the rain. You’re on your way to find me. Will you find me? Which way did I go? It’s too late, no need to find me… 

Fear:

Sometimes I want to die, to just not be so that I can’t hurt anyone. The beauty of not knowing that you’ve hurt anyone is when you feel hurt yourself… 

Forgetfulness:

I look at the clock, the time passing by. I find it funny how slow time seems to go by when you’re waiting for something to happen. I put you under my arm and forgot I left you there. Yes, in not so many words, I’m smothering you and as you lay dying, we die along with you. I hope you will find it to forgive my naivety, my stupidity when I went into this and gripped you wanting to never let you go. My smile threatens to fade, my eyes are begging to be desolate, my feet feel like stones when I walk… I’m sorry I never explained what I meant when I said; “Let me know if I cross any boundaries, let me know if I overstep any boundaries…” this is what I meant. I forgot that even milk reaches an expiry date, that visitors become unwelcome if they visit too often. Goodbye, till we meet again.

Belief: 

Sometimes in the moments when you’ve forgotten your reason for being, your goals and everything else that matters someone steps into your view from the peripheral edges that your eyes failed to see and then you realise that life is about to change for you. Its these times when no one else believes what you’ve seen, what you’ve lived in your dreams and all you can do is keep believing without faltering because when those dreams come true your head will be held high and they will all want to know you. There is hope, everywhere; around us, it is what determines your breaking point. I have lived life, if I died tomorrow I would say I’d experienced life; though not all my goals were met I was on the way there… Three things; “He will never give you a load you cannot handle”, “I shall not lack, I shall not want, I will not be diminished”, “He hears us whenever we ask Him; and since we know this is true, we know also that He gives us what we ask of Him”. I came across the latter when I was in one of those doubting moments, it popped into my head and I to myself, if that’s not a sign that there’s hope, that He is listening, the I honestly do not know what is. People think I’m on a nutty rampant rampage about nothing but I know I’m living my biggest dream right now, I know I’m making that call soon to my Mom to tell her I’m making all her dreams come true… He heard me, now I receive. It is so right… 

Hope:

History has a funny thing it does every once so often. It repeats itself. Or rather, we have a human thing we do where we always go back to the familiar things. It ignites a light somewhere in our souls that we can come out of anything with no war scars, just cleanly walk away from all our rough times just because we’ll do the same things we did before. For some reason we forget a notion known as learning from our mistakes. Well I haven’t made one, I think… I have a thing I do when I feel under attack, I back away (when you’ve fought enough battles you know which ones to fight and which ones are ridiculous, but let it be noted sometimes being too close to something makes your judgement kak) which is not always a good thing. Well it works for me because it means I keep my mind but it doesn’t work for my relationships with people around me…

Honesty:

I read a book once entitled It’s Me Anna by Elbie Lötter. Well, in all honesty, I’ve read it more than once but that’s not important. What’s important is that when I read it recently, when I got to the part where the book describes ‘Uncle Danie’ an image of you came to my mind. I guess it’s his scent of choice or rather cologne that made you jump into my mind. He was an ‘Old Spice’ man. That warm spicy, smell I know from when you hold me in your arms, and how it lingers in the air after you spray it on you… An ‘Old Spice’ man, just like you, that’s what made you jump into my mind when that description was played along the pages of the memory of the little girl, of the grown woman. The description went on to describe how handsome he was… and still you stayed in my mind. It’s scary because sometimes I can’t get that image out of my head, when you get ready to go out and spray on that ‘Old Spice’. I know you’re not like him, you would never rape anybody’s child. That’s not the kind of man I think you are. But then again everyone has their own traits, which make them who they are. To me, that scared little girl in the book comes alive when I remember that I can’t say anything that pops into my mind without the notion that you will disregard it anyway. My somewhat silly thoughts, observations, the very things that are part of me I can’t express because you will either look at me like I’m more foolish than Forest Gump, or just shake your head and say that makes no sense or even worse that you will just look at me and not say anything. My ideas, the things I hold closest to me I can’t share with you. I don’t know how to ask you for help even when I know you’d be able to help me. I could put on a play and know not to expect your face in the audience. You break my spirit without intending to, I can’t help but wonder what it would be like if you actually hurt me with the intention to. It scares me that I can’t be. When we speak, it’s because I can’t stand the silence which swallows me up. Guess it’s really true how they say you never get to really know someone until you’ve been with them long enough. If that’s how it is then you don’t know me from a bar of soap and I am losing the love I have for you. I’m drowning in resentment, feelings of misgivings and the realisation that I should not have shaken the bee-hive. All this topsy-turvyness is good for my muse, she feeds and I write but in the end, I die. I’m drowning and dying. Like the character, John Coffey said in The Green Mile by Stephen King, “He kills them with their love”… I’m dying because I love you but its time I loved myself more than I do you. You don’t deserve that unselfishness as it stands.
[Titles as a separate story…]

———————————–

searching through my laptop for documents a friend needed and found this in the depths of all sub-files. 

it’s weird finding old writing. a work in progress i never completed and therefore never shared. posted here now unedited- with all notes. written between the period 2010-2013.

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