Silver Lining or Stood Behind the Line?

Many people put themselves forward, getting themselves out there, which I’m sure is great for a while at minimum. However what about those people who are overlooked. The ones who stand back and let the others move forward. Letting them push their way through the mud, to become nailed into the soil. Whilst little old them keep ploughing through each day hoping encouragement will come their way. But when they don’t get it, they’re just that little bit more lost in the place they thought had the impossibility of being reality. The reality which of course is the hyperreality in which we all now live.

So we assume standing behind the line is for the best.

So many times you could run, jump, hide and scream those silent noises nobody hears no matter how loud the volume of your self-intoxicating scream may be. No matter how much blood rushes to your brain in a panic, because you feel like time is running out.       So you just stand, blur out and sit. Whilst the emotions transition into the statue you’ve always avoided being. Then it hits you. Point blank square in the face. How can you run away from being something, you already are?

Sat in the corner, wishing you could be the one to surprise and make people feel strength through courage. Walking tall, with notes flying high and harmonies smiling.

When someone believes in you, you believe. Forced out of the corner, with faith in yourself. Because they are there. They taught you to only rely on yourself. So when they can’t be there, you will be okay. Except when they aren’t around as much you forget a little bit. Sit back and wait for your break, rather than going to grab it yourself. Then you realise by doing so, you go against what that one person taught you. Be brave. Question everything. Be honest.

They were the only person to show you your true worth. Bringing it back when it was at risk of being lost. They don’t waste  their time on worthless people. Just because you may not see them, doesn’t mean they aren’t there. To make yourself proud is actually making the one person who you want to make the proudest, proud.

I won’t let you down.

Forever Unfinished

Sometimes, it’s not what happens, or what’s said about it, it’s how each person perceives the happenings. Have you ever told a story so many times, just because you can’t quite make sense of it. Everybody has already heard it, but still, they listen. The end always remains unfinished. Yet every time you tell the story, you feel a tiny bit closer to the end. Well this time, I’m determined to get there.

One day, will be the day I find all the answers I need. Until that day, I’m going to have to sit back and watch the game unfold. Sometime ago, someone very important in my life told me, ‘If you can’t win the game, don’t bother playing it’. However, maybe some games are worth watching. Just to observe who has the warmest of all smiles, when they have the most properties within monopoly, compared to who always had the ace from the start of chase the ace.

Back to the Start

Running. Running so fast that your heart tightens and can’t keep count of it’s own beat. Slamming each foot on the ground. Unable to see the possibility of ever being able to stand still. Maybe one day I will stand still. Maybe one day I’ll get to see why the end result is so typical of one of those stupid stories. You know, those stories about some sad person, with a huge amount of baggage. They get everything they want. Everything they could ever need, because obviously, they don’t need much to be happy, as that’s just the way the story always goes. But no. Not for me. It’s all taken away. Looks like I’m just going to have to tell the same different story. Again, and again. Oh, and over again.

Penny For Your Thoughts?

Don’t you think it’s crazy how we all live our lives, telling stories about our past and then listen to others tell their’s. Even though you’re not really listening and nobody really cares if the person they are speaking too is even paying attention in the first place.

I say ‘telling stories’ because the things we say are never really true. We unconsciously change our memories, which then become stories. We write our own past after living our future. If our own eyes can deceive us, imagine what our brains change. If you want to tell a story, get someone else to tell it. You never know, it might be even more fun…

War of the Ghosts:

One night two young men from Egulac went down to the river to hunt seals and while they were there it became foggy and calm. Then they heard war-cries, and they thought: “Maybe this is a war-party”. They escaped to the shore, and hid behind a log. Now canoes came up, and they heard the noise of paddles, and saw one canoe coming up to them. There were five men in the canoe, and they said:

“What do you think? We wish to take you along. We are going up the river to make war on the people.”

One of the young men said, “I have no arrows.”

“Arrows are in the canoe,” they said.

“I will not go along. I might be killed. My relatives do not know where I have gone. But you,” he said, turning to the other, “may go with them.”

So one of the young men went, but the other returned home.

And the warriors went on up the river to a town on the other side of Kalama. The people came down to the water and they began to fight, and many were killed. But presently the young man heard one of the warriors say, “Quick, let us go home: that Indian has been hit.” Now he thought: “Oh, they are ghosts.” He did not feel sick, but they said he had been shot.

So the canoes went back to Egulac and the young man went ashore to his house and made a fire. And he told everybody and said: “Behold I accompanied the ghosts, and we went to fight. Many of our fellows were killed, and many of those who attacked us were killed. They said I was hit, and I did not feel sick.”

He told it all, and then he became quiet. When the sun rose he fell down. Something black came out of his mouth. His face became contorted. The people jumped up and cried.

He was dead.

Read the story again, what does it mean to you?

Read the story again, what does it now mean to you?

Changes every time right?

Clarity is far from simplicity.

 

I pushed open the door and walked into the coffee shop. Yet again, another hour of screaming silence, whilst I sit by – watching everyone else creating memories, as I carry on with my definition of normality. I buy my coffee, and find a seat. I almost feel guilty for taking up a table of four, when I am only one. People don’t notice me – yet I feel as though all eyes on me – with piercing glances hitting me from every direction. You would think they would bounce right off and not seap into skin. But they do. I wonder when I’ll be accepted by someone the way I watch everyone else live the way I dream of. At the end again. Empty cup. Empty heart.