Everytime it rains

Clouds of insecurity obscure me Assure me

The mist of desperation

Dripping down my skin

The crushing storm will break me

And take me from this state I’m in

Everytime the rain comes calling

I can’t stop myself from falling

Into the darkness, into the madness

Of a world devoid of fear and pain

Everytime it rains

The waves of isolation crash around me

Around me

The loneliness of silence echoes in my brain

With shore in sight I’m under

And wonder why I fought in vain

Everytime the rain comes calling

I can’t stop myself from falling

Into the darkness, into the madness

Of a world devoid of fear and pain

Everytime it rains

https://m.soundcloud.com/fahd-mohamed-3/primal-fear-feat-simone-simons

Intellectual stimulation

The ever-burning flame

of a relationship.

Say you, say I

Go back, go forth

It’s this, it’s that

But no, but yes

I catch your smile as I

Attempt to debunk your

argument

The arousal in me when you

try to prove your point

in such articulation

such poignancy

It turns me fucking on

It doesn’t matter what topic

It doesn’t matter if I agree

or whether you buy in to my

views, my values, my core beliefs

What matters is you and I

though we come from

somewhere completely foreign,

Absolute polar opposites

Our egos don’t get jn the way.

The mutual respect is undeniable.

And I think the mental challenge turns you on too.

Mothers

You were cruel, you were mean, you were almost abusive.

You said it was all in the name of love.

Bullshit.

So much bullshit.

The damage. You have no idea do you?

Deceit: the dumb, stupid fucking lies.

You broke us, you broke every single one of us who you fucking loved, every single one of us who loved you back.

You will never be able to make up for what you have done; you don’t know how. Seeth in your own hatred of yourself, project onto us as you will.

Yet I can’t hate you, but I do. But I can’t, but I do.

I wish I could tell you how much you’ve destroyed us. Fuck you. Fuck you over and over again.

You should never have had children.

You were not fit as a mother.

What brings you joy?

Took a walk today by the harbour. Sun shining, people smiling, music blaring. We’ve had gorgeous wintery sunny days before but nothing like this.

It was the first time in a very long time I felt each step I took was being firmly planted on solid ground. For the first time in a very long time, I didn’t feel the concrete pavement was about to give way underneath me. For the first time I didn’t feel the fear of dropping into the endless abyss beneath me.

I was surprised by the newfound sense of security actually, because nothing ‘concrete’ has really changed and yet it feels like everything has.

I could feel the sun’s warmth. I could hear people’s laughter. I could hear the the waves lapping against the dock.

I could feel the slight breeze as half-marathon trainers brushed past me. I could feel the sense of closeness of people around me going about their day; I could see their faces! And somehow, unusually, the physical proximity was fine by me.

For the first time in a long time I felt I was a part of this world, not just drifting along, floating, half-extended from somewhere above; not just a lonely soul in limbo, scrambling to find its way back to where home once was, not trying to hang on for dear life not knowing exactly why and what I’m hanging on for.

I must say it was incredibly comforting this new experience, even hopeful, that things can change and dark times can pass.

I have a lot of people to thank, a lot of things to be thankful for and a lot of giving back to do.

Thank you all for saving me from myself.

I promise I will learn to love myself as you love me.

Yuh.

A student addressed me as ‘Mrs. Chan’ earlier this week. It threw me offguard, considering I was still getting asked for ID in 2016. The legal drinking age here is 18. Never complained, gleeful at times.

Therefore, it is only logical to say, the first half of 2017 has robbed me of my 20s. I half-suspect I will wake up tomorrow and realise I’m actually in my 40s.  And on Friday? 50s.

No matter – I am one step closer to becoming the head-banging, tongue-sticking, bird-flipping old granny I’ve always aspired to be. 

Yuh.

Yellow Ladybug

It was a hot, humid and stifling day.

I was looking forward to getting off at the next station to escape the crowded, suffocating train carriage.  Rush hour in Sydney is not often pleasant, but we try.

A yellow ladybug had been keeping me entertained for the ride, casually strolling up and down the handle of my black umbrella, completely oblivious to the fact that the rest of us are struggling to breathe due to the heat and lack of personal space.  A whole umbrella handle to herself; I’m jealous.

The train pulls into the station; I gather my things carefully as to not to disturb my new friend or elbow my neighbourly human in the gut.

‘This station is Town Hall.  Please mind the gap when stepping onto the platform’.

The train doors open – waves of passengers alight. I let them take me with them in their flow.

I glance down, looking to catch a glimpse of my pretty little new friend to see how she’s coping with the rush hour crowd.  I gasp, she’s gone.  Probably couldn’t wait to get the fuck out of there and fluttered off.  Or I had just inadvertently murdered a ladybug when stepping off the train.

Wondering what happened to her still keeps me up at night.

I’ve run out of pages in my notebook

Feeling a little melancholy, a little apprehensive, a little lost.

The one beer must have triggered something. I’m smoking again.

Maybe it’s the mindless netflix, the mindless job, the weekend skype session with the woman I fear most, the emotionally brutal yet numbing restructure of the company, people coming and going, December, the helplessness felt over the 2016 events. Hope is dwindling.

Maybe it’s the knowledge of how everyone I know is treading water.  Some smoke, some drink, some go to church, some busy themselves in other people’s lives to feel purpose (their children’s). Others throw themselves into their careers and stay single.

I don’t believe you can have it all. Those that say they do are hiding the sacrifices they’ve had to make. Less time with their children (or no children), a less understanding spouse (or no spouse) who shits on fundamental parts of your being, a death of a loved one, a family that doesn’t quite understand your choices and persists in ‘fixing’ your life, the question of whether you have enough money to live a comfortable lifestyle.

I’m being too naive again. What’s with that?

And I’m one of the lucky ones.