Cheesy Reflection

We’ve all learned to shy away from our emotions. We conceal and hide our true hearts with so many layers until we stop recognising what we feel from what we’re expected to feel. We all want to be loved for our kind nature and amiable traits; so we display them and the more people spend time with us, it becomes hard and difficult to hide the other side, suddenly we bring ourselves to a position where we are accused of changing while people around us can’t identify that we never did, we’ve just been hiding everything so well for so long. So why can’t we show our flaws, why can’t we accept jealousy and hate, why can’t we accept emotional baggage and past experiences? Why are we scared of falling apart and showing our tears? It’s as simple as acknowledging that the ones who will find these aspects out and stay, will stay anyway from the beginning and people who are scared will walk away either ways. So why do we trick people into thinking that we’re flawless saints, why do we hide our humanity? You can choose to surround yourself with as many people as you like and lure them into liking half of you or you can choose to filter in the people who will hug you when you’re saying the most useless things and listen to you talk about death for hours without twitching their eyes, you can choose to have the people who will understand how deep your love is and will reason with your jealousy, people who will work around your OCD and people who will hold you down through your anxiety and panic. Everyone else will walk away anyways.

Panic Room

It was happening; again.

She wanted to stop it but she knew better from experience, she knew that no force in the world could stop this tempest and it was about to crush her into a million pieces. She could never point out where it began from because it started and ended everywhere, it hit her slowly and with high-speed at the same time. It felt like dying and rising to life multiple times at the speed of light.

It was happening; she could feel the sweat clamming her body together, her heart beating at the rate of an engine speeding for its life and she was suddenly aware of every edible bit that filled the spaces in her stomach; lifting themselves ready for expulsion. She started reaching out for air but felt like she couldn’t take in any, and inch by inch she felt drained, like she could tell that every cell within her body was desperately asking for replenishment. Her brain spoke loudly; screaming with voices, flashing images and bombarding her with signals and warnings like a freight train pushing her to a non existing end. Everything looked dark and she was aware of every nocicepter in her body being triggered by sharp pain that she couldn’t define. Hot tears streamed down dripping on her neck; she begged and begged, asking for redemption, asking for an end. No words could come out now. It was almost like every piece of her was coming undone; forming a  scalpel that sharply cut through her existence. She was stuck in this panic room; quietly loud on her own.

If you knew me at all

If you knew me; if you knew me at all. You’d see the worst for the better, you’d see the strength behind the weakness, the bravery behind the fear and you’d understand the bravado that covers the detachment. You’d understand the freedom and liberation that were offered and the truth behind the promises. You’d chose to understand and love the sharp edges of a soul that softened itself for you. But you search for your peace in anger and seething words, demanding a reaction. You’d sell the clay you’re made up of for gold that glitters, you project the war that’s within you; taking down with it all that you love. You don’t see; you’re inhibited, restricted and limited by your damaged eyes.

You; you don’t know me at all.