One More Time

21 Jan

When I no longer answer your calls,

It’s not a sign that I no longer love you

As I watch the phone ring on and on and on,

The agony inside me tears a hole through my chest.

 

When I ignore your texts in a fleeting moment’s decision,

I dwell on the sound of your voice in my head, calling my name

I long for your hands that used to hold me so close,

And I sink into your warmth.

 

If I could talk to you once more

Without breaking down and falling to my knees,

So many things left unsaid,

Forever stuck in my throat.

 

I’ve learned that sometimes

The pain is so strong,

It’s easier to live with the ache

Than face you one more time.

 

perfectlonelyworld

Dusk

12 Jul

Everything is silent below a dark clear sky

And the wind slowly passes like a tickle of a feather,

The dusk is ignored as the world passes by –

It is the forgotten friend that offers its shoulder

While we weep in its embrace,

So often overlooked and taken for granted

That no one sees the beauty of its cloak.

 

perfectlonelyworld

Piano Lessons

3 May

For most of my life, I have taken piano lessons. The first time I ever touched a piano was when I was 6; I started lessons when I was 8. In all honesty, when my parents asked if I wanted to play an instrument, what I really wanted to play was the guitar. But my mom is a classical music fan, and persuaded me to choose the piano. Thus, began my long, tear-filled journey of piano lessons.

I am not a fan of classical music. At all. I’m a through and through Country gal. Looking back, taking guitar lessons would have made a lot more sense. But at the time, I was quite easily persuaded. My first teacher wanted his students to enjoy what they were playing. So technique-wise, I learned nothing. After 3 or 4 years, I stopped with him, and got a different teacher. This new teacher is the one I blame for the tears.

He was young and strict and moody. By the end of every lesson, I would be in tears. Tears that I fought hard to control, but it was a losing battle from the start. I was (and still am) an extremely sensitive person, and his insults did nothing to help my growing hatred of the piano. Even when he praised me on a piece well played, all I could hear were “I have students younger than you who can play better” and “You will never be good at this”. My mom was no help either. “If you’d practice more, you’d get better”, “You can’t play with friends until you practice the piano. He said you have to practice at least 3 hours every day” and “Stop wasting money”.  To be fair, I did learn a lot about how to play the piano when I was with him.

To any sane person looking in, the solution would be simple. If you hate it so much, and if it causes so many fights (every single fight I have ever had with my parents stems from the piano), why don’t you just stop? The answer? Because I can’t. It has been a part of my life for as long as I can remember. As much as I hate it, I can’t let go. It is a part of who I am, and if I stop, I too, will die. It seems overly dramatic. But it’s true. It has become such a huge part of me that if I were to stop, I wouldn’t know what to do with myself.

I found a new teacher, and have been with him for almost a year. I enjoy it, but slowly, the fights are starting again. Things as simple as my dad refusing to drive me (it takes close to 2 hours to get there by public transport) to (once again) the “fact” that I am “wasting money”. Whether I like it or not, piano lessons have become a part of me, and I know that it will continue to be until the day I die, whether it be soon or a long time away. That, I do not know, but what I do know is that I can never stop.

 

perfectlonelyworld

Nostalgia

6 Apr

It’s a funny thing ain’t it,

To long for something that’s no longer there,

No way to return nor get it back,

Yet that longing still remains.

Like a veil over our eyes

That is ignored but never overlooked,

It stays like a throbbing pain,

Blurring our focus,

Our vision,

Our path.

Longing for what we can never have,

For it is the past that we cannot touch,

Once passed, never to return,

Yet that longing surrounds us.

We reach but can no longer feel

As our hands pass through time,

While our present goes by before our eyes,

But it is not seen, only to be saw.

Out of grasp but we do not notice,

Hoping for a miracle to save us,

Revive us,

Resurrect us.

While we are alive but not living,

Memories are the safe haven

And the doom to our existence,

Yet that longing is in our core.

It takes over and we cease to exist,

Becoming who we wish not to be,

We cannot stop as it invades

Our being and our soul,

For it is the devil disguised as the good,

And without looking back we fall,

We tumble,

We collapse.

We think it will save us,

Times that were simple

We long to go back,

And the tea is bittersweet.

We are hooked to the drug,

Never stop reaching – it is all we know,

It overpowers and destroys what we once were,

That longing is who we are.

 

perfectlonelyworld

Drifting Away

19 Mar

We used to be so close. We’d barely go a day without talking to each other. Now, we hardly speak, and when we do, the conversation’s strained and unnatural. I can feel us drifting apart. I can see us getting farther and farther away from each other. I know that if I tried, if I reached out a hand, maybe I could still save it, and pull us together again. But I don’t. Because when I try, there’s no response. I text you, but you don’t answer.  I muster up the courage to call your number, but it goes straight to voicemail. And after, I feel embarrassed. Embarrassed to be naïve enough to think it could go back to the way it used to be. Embarrassed that you seem to have moved on while I, I’m still stuck on the same path you left me on. I see you sometimes, with other people, laughing, and I’m saddened by the sight. A wave of nostalgia washes over me, and I can’t help but remember all the times you’d laugh like that when we were together. Or how I could talk to you after a long, hard day and everything would suddenly become a whole lot better. I guess I just miss you. But in the end, I’m too tired to try to get you back. And maybe you don’t even notice it, but I do. I notice the cracks on the ground where we stand. I notice the wrinkles that have formed on the fabric. And I want to hold you close to me. But instead, I let go, and watch you drift farther and farther away.

 

perfectlonelyworld

Before The End

14 Mar

I looked down. I was so high up. 22 stories. That was how tall the building was. The sidewalk was empty. Cold, hard cement that would surely break my bones.  It would relieve me of the pain I felt. It would release me from the horror and terror of living. I wondered what it would feel like to die. Would it be painful? Or would death embrace me, welcoming me. I felt the wind blow across my face. The clear blue sky, with not a single cloud in sight. It was like the day it happened.

It had been a good day. I had gone out for a walk. The birds were chirping, the sun shined, causing a reflection in the water. The sand was soft between my toes. The air was filled with the scent of fresh air. I could still taste the blueberry pancakes I had for breakfast. This was back when everything was normal. Before Daniel died, before dad left. The fighting would last all night. Mom and dad would scream at each other, saying the worst insults they could think of. After the divorce, dad just left. As he walked out the door for the last time, he didn’t say a word. Just took his suitcase, opened the door, and walked out without turning back. It was all because of Daniel. He didn’t think that night. He decided to drive home after going to a party. After he got himself drunk. My beloved brother, my idol, killed himself by driving. I was going to jump. It would be so much more peaceful. There wouldn’t be as much blood as there had been in the car accident.

I involuntarily thought about two nights ago. He did it again. It was the fourth time. Every time mom’s with us, he acts like nothing happened. He acts like Prince Charming, bringing flowers every time he takes her on a date, giving me a new laptop, being perfect. But he wasn’t perfect. He was mean and cruel and violent. I bit down on my lip. I felt his hands on my arms, pinning them to my sides. He pushed me onto the bed, forcing himself on top of me. I was helpless. I cried for him to stop, but he shoved his tongue into my mouth. He was hurting me. I cried and cried, but he kept on doing it. No one was home. I was alone with him.

Don’t think about that. It’s too painful. It was all going to end. Soon, I wouldn’t be in any more pain. I wouldn’t be miserable anymore. No one would ever tease me again. He would never touch me again. He can never hurt me anymore. I took a deep breath and took a step closer. I put my hands on the wall that was to stop me. It wouldn’t stop me. I was finally going to do something for myself. It would soon be all over. And I wouldn’t regret it. I climbed onto the wall and looked down one last time. I closed my eyes. This was it. This was how it was all going to end.

But did I really want it all to end? Did I really want to do this? Would Daniel have wanted me to do this? I looked at the sidewalk. It was hard and painful. This wasn’t what I wanted. I climbed down from the wall and ran down the stairs. I ran and ran. And I never looked back.

 

perfectlonelyworld

If I Had Known

5 Mar

It’s been exactly 5 years since I saw you for the last time. It was a Tuesday night. I wore a new coral colored shirt. I remember being in the car, driving to go see you. I wanted her to come with me. But she didn’t. I remember riding in the elevators to go to your floor, and I remember getting lost. You were on the third floor.

If I had known it would be my last time seeing you, I wouldn’t have said that I needed to go to the bathroom, when I really just needed some air. I wouldn’t have went to the hallway, pacing back and forth, trying to think straight. Because if I hadn’t, it would have meant 5 more minutes with you. If I had known it would be my last time feeling your touch on me, I would have hugged you harder. I would have given you a kiss. (I remember you saying “If it weren’t for these tubes, I’d kiss you.”) If I had known it would be the last time I would get to hear your voice, I would have listened more carefully, memorizing your voice.

I wrote you a poem. And I read it at the funeral. I remember eating poutine for the first time in my life before going to the funeral home. At your funeral, there was so many people. You had touched every single one of their lives in some way. There were 3 people sitting on the couch. Your daughter was there. There was some crying. I cried. But we laughed too. And we smiled. We thought of all our memories of you. It was bittersweet.

I miss you. You were my friend when I was mostly alone. You helped me. You helped my family. I’ll always remember sitting in your living room on Sundays, watching cartoons and eating cheese puffs. I remember coloring pictures in your kitchen. I remember your birthday 3 years before you died. We drove to see you again. And I remember you said that you were looking forwards to the next 10 years.

There’s some things that I can no longer remember. I can no longer hear your voice, a voice that was once so comforting to me. At times, I can’t see your face. And this, this thought that you will slowly be forgotten, terrifies me. You should have been here for at least 7 more years. If I had known that you would be gone, I would never have taken any thing for granted. It’s been 5 years.

God saw him getting tired

When a cure was not to be,

So he closed his arms around him

And whispered come to me.

 

In tears we saw him sinking,

We watched him fade away,

Our hearts were truly broken,

He fought so hard to stay.

 

But when we saw him sleeping

Peacefully and free from pain,

We could not wish him back

To suffer that again.

 

So close your arms around him Lord,

And give him special care,

Make up for all that he suffered

That seemed to us unfair.

 

So many times we’ve needed him,

So many times we’ve cried,

If love could have saved him,

He never would have died.

 

perfectlonelyworld

The First Snowfall

1 Mar

Soft flakes drifting lightly

Towards the white covered ground,

Forming a beautiful blanket

That is gentle and tender.

 

The wind murmurs in the air,

Ever so lightly, barely there,

Turning little noses the color of blood,

As snow continues to fall.

 

Bells jingle and wind chimes ring,

The smell of cinnamon at every turn,

Children sit with mugs of hot chocolate

To watch the first snowfall of the year.

 

perfectlonelyworld

Life In D Minor

24 Feb

I look at the sheets of music

With titles I can’t read

And notes I used to know.

 

I remember spending hours

Playing and playing,

Until my fingers bled.

 

Tears were shed,

Papers were ripped,

And threats echoed in the room.

 

I longed to stop,

To end the torture

That ruled my life.

 

Yet looking back,

I wish I knew

What I know now.

 

For the piano is a part of me,

The notes are my words,

And music is my life.

 

perfectlonelyworld

Disappointment

21 Feb Disappointment Valley

I hate disappointment.

I hate being disappointed. I hate going to watch a movie or reading book, and being left unsatisfied. I hate expecting a person to be better than that, when they really aren’t. I hate counting on someone who can’t be counted upon. I hate realizing that the ones I trusted betrayed my trust. I hate people making promises they know they’ll never keep. I hate the sadness that comes with being let down. I hate the way it leaves me feeling drained and lethargic. I hate being disappointed.

I hate disappointing others. I hate telling someone I will do something, and not being able to do so. I hate letting others down. I hate not being able to hold my end of the deal. I hate falling short of other peoples’ standards. I hate being someone they used to be able to trust. I hate telling my parents that I didn’t make it. I hate feeling useless and worthless. I hate the looks on peoples’ faces when they’re disappointed. I hate not being good enough, no matter how hard I try. I hate disappointing others.

And lately, all I ever seem to feel is disappointment, and am constantly disappointing others. The feeling that I’m not worthy and that I’ll never be worthy, lingers in my mind. Perhaps if I lower my expectations, or perhaps if I stop caring so much what other people think, I can stop feeling this way. But I can’t. Thus, my life will continue to revolve around disappointment.

 

perfectlonelyworld

Follow

Get every new post delivered to your Inbox.

Join 43 other followers