BoA – Some Moons Ago

Some time ago… I would say two years… or maybe three, I’m not so certain. I listened to this song religiously. I’m not entirely sure why. K-pop definitely isn’t the kind of music I listen to on a regular basis. It isn’t even the kind of music I particularly enjoy at all… And, I suppose I can say the same for many of you who might read this.

So, a little context, right? Well, back then I was in something of a pickle. Alright, that’s an understatment, I was completely fucked. The depression was at its worst. I couldn’t get through a minute without questioning everything, without questioning life itself. Looking back, sure, it could have been worse, much worse. But in the heat of the passing moments, you don’t think about that. The mind is selfish, and when in such a state, nothing mattered beyond myself.Read More »

The Forceful Tide

Often, the wind blew a furious squall,

Gusts, hurricane force – deadly.

 

Inked hair on the stormy beach;

Strolling away, scowls, feet firmly beneath.

Without even a glance behind.

Sacrificial, scaring, thoughtless.

 

Nights in December, frail skin,

Life in front of the flames – scorching.

But what of those slashing thoughts,

When all seems truly beneath the waves?

Life lived in a frantic haze…

 

With the flick of a sudden wrist,

Denouncing all, swearing in retrospect.

Into the distance,

Contemplation, revelation – coming undone;

Undying in the light of perpetual dusk.

 

Eclipsed by the tides of wanting.

Sun glistening of that youthful skin.

Flowing, ebbing, silently fading.

Lust, and subtle reason – morose.

 

Silk used to run through my ten digits.

Now… nothing but the sand of ages’,

Nothing but the dust

Of relegated dreams.

 

 

Former Oceans of Feeling

Wondering how all things work,

Down to the final twitch of a finger,

Under the eaves of all that surely grows.

Ivy clinging to the stone, an iron grip,

Never letting go…

 

Flowing wildly, like a river on Speed.

Milking the day; dawn to dusk.

Lazing, grazing, idling around.

Sweating amidst the thoughts of coming down.

 

Ideally, living from one to the next,

If only ideas could be lived in whole…

 

Caught in dreams of the girl with white hair.

Searching for feeling,

Here in the world – something that might compare.

Instead – taken as seen – pits, holes to hell.

Vestigial feelings

Serving no purpose under the new regime.

 

Yet, faces, they come and they go.

Apparitions, mirror images.

Fickle beings in their trendsetting-

In their never letting go…

 

Honestly, time doesn’t heal all,

Not the things that never happened,

Not all that was left behind in the fog of self-depreciation.

Time, what can one call time?

Relentless, garbled, lunacy…

Honestly, take me back to that tilted youth!

That insatiable insanity.

 

Longing for time to have

Nor a past, nor a future.

Tangles of yearning, incomparable being.

Edifice of inaugural darkness.

 

From dark skin to white hair;

Habituated in one’s inner sanctum.

Loving, hating, somewhere between everything.

Cursing, wearing a scarf of weary strangling.

A past grown tired of fighting,

Of never letting go…

Things I’d Tell My Younger Self

Do the things that scare you!

Participate!

You’re going to that party, remember? Change the outcome!

Start meditating!

Don’t play soooo much Call of Duty!

Leave the house more often!

Act on opportunities!

That one night… don’t do it!

That girl, ask her out!

Writing, do more of it!

Work on that anxiety before it eats you up!

People aren’t so scary!

Read more books!

Certain things matter much more than others!

Schoolwork is somewhat important!

Take care of yourself!

Care more in general!

 

-Chris ❤

Happenings In Time

I think, some days are just not long enough.

Morning to evening; time lost.

Evening to morning; time unidentifiable.

Something and nothing.

An immutable something amidst those endless nothings.

Signing away time.

Locking it away for later use.

Then realising, it cannot be used at all.

Realising the moment is all there is.

The very second of a happening.

Not before, and neither after.

And even then, after everything;

Some things just aren’t.

And other things just are;

This is all anything ever is.

Moments of time drifting through the cosmos.

Old Love (Maybe it Was Love…)

I think about this a lot, maybe too much…I’m not sure. I feel like it needs to be in words, in some place other than my head. Maybe then I can make sense of it. If it even needs making sense of.

So there used to be a girl I liked, I know… isn’t there always, isn’t that always the case… It must have been five years ago now, maybe six at a push. It sounds like a long time, but it really doesn’t feel it. Though, in some respects, looking back at who I was then and comparing to the person I am today – there’s a huge difference. One, on most days I try to regard in a positive light.

One of the biggest remembrances about that time, is the endless list of things I regret not doing, or not saying.  Or the people I didn’t converse with, interact with in any way – I suppose this part hasn’t really changed.

I would have been fourteen, fifteen, and sixteen. You know how it is when you’re that age.The world is a seemingly mightily complex place, one we never seem to quite fit into, one which is always against us. Of course, some of these things never change. We just become more accepting of them. More accepting of ourselves, insecurities included. My anxieties at that point were fairly awful. I didn’t understand it like I do now. I didn’t really even know it could be categorised as Social Anxiety Disorder, (I never like putting names to things.) I wondered why I was so different, why I couldn’t fit in with all my classmates, why I couldn’t act upon any feelings I might have had towards anyone.

So, this girl. She was sweet. She was mysterious in a way I still can’t understand. She was really the only girl I could talk to. The only girl I’ve ever talked to, despite all the years passing. In honesty, she is the only person I’ve ever felt something even resembling love towards. Or maybe it wasn’t love… I have no reference point after all. But it was something.

I couldn’t do anything. I couldn’t say anything to her. I couldn’t even let her know how I felt.

This was the most painful thing. It was agonising just sitting by and watching time pass.

I once went to a party, she was there too. It was an outdoor type of affair, on a farm, with a bonfire, some music… all under eighteen. I suppose if you live in the country you’ll know exactly what I mean. Call it a barn-party if you want… with a field in lieu of a barn.

I’ll keep it short. As far as I remember, as much as I have let myself remember – I think there was some form of reciprocation, and the very least she knew how I felt. I had a habit – or maybe a slip-up – of not hiding it. The whole school knew. Of course they did. Despite the anxiety, it didn’t really bother me, it felt good. Anyway, the party. There were a few moments where – looking back – I feel as though she was asking, covertly indicating that she might just feel the same way. It killed me. It really did. I was powerless to even ask.

My anxiety prevented anything.

Maybe half an hour later… she was with another guy. And that was that. Me and a friend made the half-drunken decision to walk 12 miles home at three in the morning. I think it’s fair to say that I had enough reflection time. And yet, my reflection only consisted of pain, of wishing things were different. The feelings never went away, they don’t just do that. They simply became more complex, more irrational. And the self-loathing grew with every lesson we were together. Two years passed, and we went to different schools. I stumbled across her a few times, we exchanged smiles and hellos – nothing more. It’s funny how time has such power to change things, feelings, perceptions of people.

I’m still young. I know that.

I’ve tried to de-construct things in my head, too many times to remember. I know that’s not the right thing to do. Yet, I can’t seem to get away from the past, away from the things I’ve never done, away from the heartache I’ve never experienced. It haunts me. Corrodes my feelings.

Though I always manage to harbour hope for the future. Now I can see that.

 

-Chris ❤

Holly Henry – When You Need ‘Something’

Around a year or two ago, I wasn’t in a great place. Of course, I’m hardly in a great place now. But compared to back then, things are peachy – and this, I take comfort in.

Back then, the world was an infinitely complex place. Even more so than it is now, and that’s saying something… The thing is, my mind at that time, is now something I cannot comprehend. I cannot even imagine the thoughts that were running through my head. The utter ignorance of everything I contemplated seems absolutely preposterous, selfish, irrational. And the biggest thing of all … I don’t know why, what for?

In the grand scheme of things nothing much has changed in my life. I still only have a few friends. I still sit in the house for most of every day. I’m still more or less the same person. Really the only difference is my short week at university – https://amongstallelse.wordpress.com/2016/10/09/home-once-again/ – That was an experience I will never forget. One I will re-take next September, but actually see through to the end this time!

So, two years ago I honestly found pleasure in nothing, not even my writing or reading. And then, I stumbled across a YouTube video. This one to be exact:

I remember it clearly. It was one of those moments where you sit back on your chair, stare at the ceiling and just think… just think. There was no clear train of thought. I remember sitting there, listening, wondering. There are certain people who catch your attention, be it with words, appearances, personalities, or with something a lot more ambiguous altogether. Other people rarely or ever see that one thing, that attraction that you yourself cannot ever decipher. It is there, and that’s all it is.

This is how I felt…feel when watching Holly Henry. (hmm, I hope that doesn’t sound creepy…) I don’t know whether it is her singing, her voice in particular. Or, without sounding shallow, maybe it is her appearance. She is an attractive person after all. But… attraction in that physical sense doesn’t really compute that well with me. I think it has to be something deeper, something more meaningful. Even if it is not clear what that actually might be.

Then I came across this in possibly one of the worst months – if I can recall January/February 2015. It doesn’t feel good to look back to that moment of my life. There’s something tainted about even the thought of it. Anyway, here it is:

Listening to this now, I notice a mixed bag of feelings. On one hand, I’m proud, happy that I have moved onto a less traumatic part of my life. And on the other, a sadness and anxiety lurks within the fact that I got the way I did to begin with. Also, a complete strangeness that I can’t pin down – something akin to a distant outline on an impossibly foggy day. Or an off-beat murmur in an otherwise healthy heart.

There are people and things in life that are needed. Even if you do not know them personally, even if they do not know you. Sometimes just existing. Doing what they do, is all that is needed.

For me, Holly Henry is like that. A bastion of hope. A source of escape and pleasure when I needed it the most. When you find these things, you have to latch onto them, pull them as close to your heart as you can, for it might be the one thing that manges to shine through in an otherwise entirely dark world.

-Chris ❤