Sometimes, it feels so good to say goodbye.

Testing is poison.

It is only in testing a person, that they can fall short.
(Or is it rather that, without testing them, you would never notice their shortcomings?)
What is there to be gained by constantly putting others friendship to the test;
And hoping that they will prove you wrong,
When nobody can fulfill your expectations, or you have left no margin for error?
You convince yourself that what you perceive is justified, that what you feel has been validated.
You've tested it, after all.
You've tested them, they fell short.

So pray tell, what are you going to do now?


If the truth leaves me lonely, give me lies..
"Lie to me, love me, we'll run away from everything"
I ask for lies, all I do is ask for lies,
But I cannot handle them.
Yes, sometimes it seems the truth is overrated.
But sometimes it is the same world, with different coloured lenses.


What good does it do me to be cynical,
When I can let it slide..
What good does it do me?


If I doubt you, I leave you room to fulfill my doubt
I will not doubt you
If I test you I give you the chance to fail
You will not fail me
If I conceive that you can cause me pain, you just might
You cannot hurt me
If I wait for you to not be enough you might not ever be
You’re exactly what I need you to be
If I never admit that I need you, maybe you will never know
I need you
If I fear that you will leave me, I will allow myself to let you go
I never will.


Do not tell me I am weak for needing you, or for expecting you to be everything that I need you to be.
Do not call me unrealistic, nor foolish, or say that I am asking to be hurt.
I am just trying to live my life.
I chose you and I will not let you let me down so easy.
So I choose to believe that you are all of this.
And it suits me just fine.


It is only in testing a person, that they can fall short,
And so, I will never test you.

See. It pains to feel attacked,

Do you feel defenceless now?

***

"He’s alone in the night:
He’s afraid of the dark -
(Don’t laugh! Don’t laugh!)
And then he asks himself - "Why?
Why did I?" - he says.
"throw it away,
give up my sun, my sky, my marvellous day?
Why -why - why
was I a fool?" he says.
So do I ask why
And I tell you I don’t know.
I only know-
as that suicide in vain
shivers for the loving sun
wishes his death undone,
his poison spilled-
so do I wish alive again
the love i killed."

from the play 'Come of Age', by Clemence Dane

I am thinking, that if chance were to take my life.
And I was offered one last chance
To rewind Time:
They would give me the life of someone who had committed suicide.
Because my life had been taken by chance,
and his by choice,
They could undo his but not mine.

Would I take it?

First thoughts on being a warrior.

“For the warrior, there is no such thing as an impossible love”

‘For the warrior, there is not such thing as an impossible love.

He is not intimidated by silence, indifference, or rejection. He knows that, behind the mask of ice that people wear, there beats a heart of fire.
This is why the warrior takes more risks than other people. He is constantly seeking the love of someone, even if that means often having to hear the word “no”, returning home defeated and feeling rejected in body and soul.

A warrior never gives in to fear when he is searching for what he needs. Without love, he is nothing.”

Paulo Coelho – Manual of The Warrior of Light

I have always known I was a warrior. I do not blindly accept.

Oftentimes I find myself reacting abnormally to situations. Rationalizing differently, or not seeing the need to rationalize when others demand my explanations. They seem not to understand, that sometimes love alone is enough reason.

I am at worst, aggressive, at best, strong. Some of us are born with some innate power, that we must tame. Or it will consume us, control us.

A warrior does not kill the innocent.

One has to have faith in oneself, to protect others, and for anyone else to have faith in them. I believe in myself, and so have found that throughout my few years thus far, people have been able to believe in me, and trust me.

But does a warrior feel pride? For when someone has not trusted me, I have found it hard to handle. But I have grown and instead of fighting my downfalls, I try to acknowledge them.

Understanding that I am a warrior, I seek to control my emotions. But this I struggle with. Few things affect me but those that seldomly do, I take to heart. If without love, I am nothing, then I must accept the shadows that only love can cast across my joy. Without faltering. I do not fall, nor break apart, but you will see through my eyes if my spirit has been wounded.

I know, that I am not the same. And I seek to perfect what I have been landed with, while not fighting my imperfections. Do not look at me one day and think I have always been thus.

I have crafted a mind which runneth like a stream, for the most part smooth and unhindered, helpful and calm.
But my stream meets a river, and seeing the river, is humbled. The river has such strength that he can overcome any animal who attempts crossing: my stream merely trickles.
This warrior acts on gut instinct, and lacks the internal dialogue of the wizard.

This warrior has much to learn.

Friendship, impossible love?

So is this what you call friendship? Somewhere half between talking and not talking, caring and not caring. I could do without.

Maybe your definition of friendship differs vastly from mine, but is a friend still a friend whom you do not see, is not eager to see you? Is a friend still a friend whom you rarely talk to? Is a friend still a friend when you have no ties left, but just because you deem him to be so? I think not.

I digress, I was just fine without talking to you, I had come to terms with it. But you drag me back here and I can never understand why. You start, and do not follow through. You spark the fire, and leave me to fan it. My turn is long since over. It is yours.

I always pray for the strength, to walk away; always pray for guidance, to know what to do. But I cannot answer my prayers, my internal monologue evades me. Do you deserve a frosty reception similar to your own, or being deceived to hurt both you and your mate? Revenge sounds sweet but I am not vindictive.

If there were some reason for your less than enthusiastic behaviour, I would like to think that you could be honest with me, but you only deny the feelings which constantly bother me. Which makes it worse. Who knows what drives you ? or what goes on inside your head, because you will not tell me anymore. I almost succeed in refusing to let this bother me. Almost.

“This is my last call to you

Then I'll give up everything

That we had, that we'd do

And you'll never hear me sing

All these songs about you

So just take this time and think

Just take this time and think”
Plain White T’s

...“For the warrior, there is no such thing as an impossible love” Paulo Coelho

Ramblings on being second best # 36261117

I say TV is (for the most part), a waste of my time, and pointless. But every now and again I'll be watching some show or the other and something will make me think. Tonight it was a girl leaving, and her best guy friend (who has a girlfriend) getting sad as they said goodbye.

My brother complained that he loved her..
My mother said that he did not!
I commented that he did love her, and his girlfriend: But then paused, and added that, he just happened to love his girlfriend more - Which everyone agreed with, and my mother further commented that she was right in leaving, after all, why should she suffer being second best?

So it isn't a surprise that this made me think, it isn't a surprise that the girl reminded me of [a stronger version of] myself.

I have to stop tolerating boys just because they love me. Sometimes their love alone, isn't enough. Sometimes you don't need just to be loved, you need to be loved the most.

So I seek to find in myself the strength to stop returning to the boys who have loved me, maybe still do. Because I need to realise, that if they loved me the most, they wouldn't be apart from me in the first place. For the most part.

Great. Now someone please tell my heart that.

First thoughts on liars

It bothers me, not just that you are not a hundred percent honest, but that you won't be a hundred percent honest with me, if I should ask you.

It is always left undecided, whether lying by ommission is still a lie - I cannot stand a liar.

I can put words in your mouth, and you will agree. Because you love me or want me to love you? Your excuses are weak.

If I expect too much, it is because you have trained me to expect this. Then, am I to blame?

---

Sometimes I am shocked, at what people conceal - sometimes I never find out, and could never imagine. And, yes, there could be reasons for your actions which you do not always wish to share. I should know this.

Is it that people are less honest than me, because for some reason I cannot conceal things unecessarily? Or is it that it seems so weird to me because I cannot conceive that which is being concealed. I am always scared of that which I do not know that I do not know.

Honesty has always seemed the best path for me, have you been raised differently? Why do some people lie when they don't need to: because it comes naturally? Because it is a way of life? A habit? Fun?

It varies in degrees, but in any form, I know that I could not live with a liar. It worries me not to know the full truth, or at least think that I do. I just need the security.

On contact..

In order to move forward in life, to progress, to evolve.. something must change, must it not? It is so easy to hope that meeting someone new can spiral off a chain of events similar to that which you hope for: in my case not so silently and secretly sometimes.

However, there are god knows how many people in this vast world, and reflecting on this fact, it upsets me to realise how few we will make contact with. And contact, what do we classify as contact?

A smile: You walked past and caught my eye, my lips betrayed a hesitance to smile, which you caught and threw back at me in full-toothed glory. You went, you came back, you went again, mouthing "goodbye", topped with another. Will I ever see you again?

A hello, a short conversation: Common needs brought us together for a few moments and we ended up talking. I don't think either of us remember what about, but it did not matter, we were lost within each others projections. You reminded me of someone I would like to know, to keep around, but I knew that saying goodbye meant I would possibly not see you again. But I could not keep you for too long, and whether or not the same realisation was encapsulated within you, it did not matter. Because it ended with goodbye.

Contact can't only be either of these, or similar interactions - for we do not live in the village communities of old, where habit brings us to the same places, the same people, day after day. So such contact can and will probably be once-off - then what can we do to change it, to make it twice-off? Social akwardness born of social expectations govern us. And we know not who dares to break the mould, so we do not break it ourselves.

Questions, I can give you questions. But answers I struggle for.

Again, on lacking eloquence.

In seeking to eliminate thought-pain, I hope that my thoughts have not disappeared completely, for often it has struck me that those who write the best, think the best - the best being synonymous to most unique. And these unique writers, are the ones who are tortured by such unique thoughts.

Operating backwards however, I could not say that those who are tortured by their thoughts are necessarily good at communicating them. I suffer now in that I seem to think clearly, but struggle to logically communicate my clear thoughts, often sitting and reading what I have written only to wonder if anyone existing outside of my own head could appreciate it.

Forgive me, I look not for reassurance nor consolance, though some pseudo-version of me would have such things. I merely seek to understand how, having eliminated my unbearable thought-pain, I may keep my unique thoughts. I hope, that this will will not lead me to understand that there is no externalisation to be had of thoughts which you do not contain, and indeed no beauty without pain.

And, if this is the only conclusion to be drawn from such a path of thinking, would I sacrifice my calmness of mind back to the thought-devil, if he would return my eloquence?

I still feel this, and so it still pours out from me.

If I did not feel this, here would not lie the stain.

And so this will stain, and pour,

Until I feel this no more.