The Dark Deity

There were days when everything was either black or white. There was always a definite either or... But recently, my world of solid colours has turned into a blend of uncertainty with shades and emotions that I cannot decipher...

Black skies,
Of red tears, blue blood, white lies.
Dripping from her lips.
Bubbling up from sunken ships.
A place darker than the tunnels and caves
Carved by her inner demon to escape
the burning light.
Flames torched from bible pages ignite..
Holy water purified of the purity
What profanity.
Lost virginity.
A body numb and paralyzed,
An aerial view through blind eyes.
Watch earth's god rise.
Heaven's demise.
Lucifer say a prayer,
Lasting debt, forever the payer.


I can never tell how I feel. How do I fucking feel? Is this the dark invading my soul? Day by day I say a prayer. "God, pull me out of the deep end?" But sometimes the effort becomes heavy on my shoulders. "Oh, lucifer, carry me back to the dark side..." ...and he delivers me to my prayer. He asks me to give myself to him, and he'll never set me free. Where do i go? The dark calls to me, and the light provides no shelter from the heat. Grey areas of tears and pain, moments of pain and bliss. Cigarettes and parties. Boys and lace panties. No love. Just a drift through and through.
Pierce through my skin so I know it's real. Let me feel myself within myself. Let me know it's real. Oh,, let me sell it for the momentary bliss. Hell cannot be worse than this. Let me eat my own flesh. Hell cannot be worse than this.


I am an angel pure. Oh God, forgive my sin? Golden shrines of saints and seekers. Why aren't I a believer? Deliver me from evil, in the name of the Father, Son and Spirit. Where are you? Trinity, Deity, can you hear me? I can feel you. I can't feel you. I can't feel you.

My reality is tainted. Let me bleed. Let me weep. Let me sleep in peace. Wake me up. Give me love. Give me peace. Where's my God? Ecstasy. Warm embrace? Heaven, hath though forsaken me? This can't be real. Hell is better than this.

Oh Deity.

Find my desolate soul

Why does it take an experience of the utmost desolation to make a community of beings realize the wrong doing in their actions? How does such an experience pull the forces of faith into one, such that they are intertwined to create a web linked family of the most capricious caliber?

Not to long ago, on a crisp Friday evening, I saw his dark eyes as the moon lit the sky to a velvet dye. I quickly reached over, wrapping my arms around him.. Giving him the most zealous hug my scrawny body could produce. Little did I know that this was going to be my goodbye; our last 'he-rah'! ... I wonder what I would've done differently, or said differently had I known that was our final encounter..
Perhaps I might have uttered a "thank you" under my breathe, for the mounds of support he had once shown me or for the strength he had forced me to pursue...

My mind plays back to the year 2009, entering high school as a freshman. There was this boy, who took lead from the pack, and made it his end game to mock and rag at every fiber that my being comprised of. Often a day, I would come home and lock myself away, allowing my weakness to protrude and roam freely in the confines of my own insecurity.
...The year progressed and the agony became unbearable. An unhappy child makes for unhappy parents, and as the tale goes, "the bullied moves away from the bully"... I had found a haven of safe, distant bliss from the abyss of my childhood odium.

It was not too many years later that the new found, self secure vixen in me, decided to wrap her claws around the neck of her childhood nemesis.
...but to my surprise, the situation had changed. Approaching the situation, guns a blazing, my vixen was soon put to bed in the surety of the emergence of a new man... Her bully had become her pillar.

"Running away from problems is what breaks you, and in life, you need a foundation that will make you and build you up to stand as your own pillars," he had said. An ancient traditional tales tells of how only the purest of souls can pick up on the strengths and weaknesses of the human being. The tale spoke of babies to be the angels to our souls. Yet, somehow, this manifestation of a wayward soul had found it's path into the grips of this once grum slum who had made me consider the unimportance of my life, time and time again. Is it possible that this same being could now be laying the foundation of what would allow my '7 pillars of strength' to stand stably on their own? Oh, but it seemed too unreal to me... There must be a God.

On this here day, September 10th 2012, I sit and shed more than just a tear for the moment of meeting, the moment of knowing, and the moment of parting... I shed a tear for the moment that was, and the moment that will be..
I shed a tear to my friend.. a mecca of brilliance... a pillar of strength... & a reformed grum slum.

MWASHE MBWAE.

Amidst my tears I cry this song...

Amidst my tears I cry this song,

Words I’ve meant to say all along.
Treasures of a life, hidden within a chest,
A heart beating pulse to give more than it's best. 

Amidst my tears I cry this song, 

A story of friendship playing out for long. 

In laughter I hear his voice to me calling, 

That by and by day, it'll be better by morning. 

Amidst my tears I cry this song, 

The loss of a life was never so wrong.

But entrust my faith in thine God I shall, 

And pray to bid my friend a fair well... 

Finding the best in my worst expectation

I expected this school year to start differently... Can you blame me for expecting more drama? I was scared that this black hole would suck me back into the state of depression I once curled under or that the fondness I witnessed between friends that were once mine would hurt me and bring those salty swells of tears back to my eyes. I expected the worst...

Yet, somehow, I had given myself the time to grow and change without even realizing it; because only in that moment, the moment where I witnessed the source of all my pain and despair, only then did I realize that I have dried into a thick pillar of cement who cannot be burdened by the agendas of others who only wish to see me fall. No, I am no longer burdened with anger, hate or jealousy because these emotions never helped me... Instead of adding value to my life, they made me, and my sense of self, depreciate into a worthless feeling, slither of a girl..
...But no more...
I'm not going to sit here and preach 'girl power' or speak of the evils of the 'jealousy monster'.. No. All I'm going to say is that when you make the conscious choice to leave behind some of your baggage, your shoulders feel lighter, and instead of pulling yourself brutally over the cracks and nooks of a heated tar road, you can walk with your shoulders held high and you get to see the brighter shades of blue and green that stream through the sky; and you can smell the fresh aroma of the freshly cut foliage.

When I decided to pick myself off the ground, I started living for me and walking down my own path with my own two feet. No longer did I let people step on my back and hold me back while I furiously tried to pull myself to my next destination, only to be trampled on by the being who can only pick themselves up solely to hide their emotions. Now that I can see these heights, I can see the faces smile UP at me instead of DOWN on me, and I can see the company I have been avoiding.. Now that I have picked myself up I have found the company that I needed. I have found that person who took my face into his grasp and shook me a smile instead of analyzing the carvings of my bone structure.

I expected this school year to start differently... Can you blame me for expecting more drama? I was scared that this black hole would suck me back into the state of depression I once curled under or that the fondness I witnessed between friends that were once mine would hurt me and bring those salty swells of tears back to my eyes. I expected the worst... and in the worst of expectations, I found perfection... I found my bliss.... I found my joy.. and I found it in the face of the most unlikely candidate. Yet, I could not be more grateful that he found me, took my face in his grasp and shook me a smile.

Sometimes I can feel him here

....It was a trans-formative summer. I was experiencing the sunny summer glow of a German town while my troubles, worries and family were tucked under thick blankets in Africa's dry winter. Some days it would rain, and I'd imagine the smell of rain back home, or the patter on the ceiling as I sat in my room, watching series' to no end. Yet, I was here, miles from home. Sleeping on a white couch in a little town tucked right at the border to Denmark from Germany.

I never carried any kind of suave. I was just a black girl who tied her hair up, wore skirts, jeans and cardigans, with a hint of mascara to brighten her dark almond shaped eyes. I was never spectacular. However, the 10 hour flight and 5 hour train rides summoned me into a sleep so intense, that I could dream about the past 16 years, had I been someone else; had I thought different, and acted differently. I may have turned out differently.

I like to be different. I like to change. I like to stand out. I like to be free to express myself, and through pain I could be everything I wanted to be. The day I went to "Anka Tattoo Studio" I didn't realise that the change in my dreams was happening. Everything was about to change with the ripping of a needle through my tongue. I held her hand tight; my friend, my little sister. The white girl with the blue eyes who I'd seen grow from a blonde, large eared brat to the support I never knew I needed. I watched her smile, and throw her head back as I sighed in pain. Day by day she'd bring me cups of soup and pudding, hold my hair back while I tried to oh-so gently brush my teeth. She answered with a voice most angelic, "He's my cousin" when I asked her about the dark haired bloke in the leather jacket I'd spotted in our kitchen.

The smell of cigarette smoke was never truly appealing to me, yet, I'd grown up with parents who'd smoke as often as a chimney in a European winter. Yet, the pheromones and smoke that made up his scent caught a whiff to my nose. I smiled. "Who are you?" he asked me. His hazel eyes piercing every ounce of my physical being.
"Uhm. Arlana. I'm your cousins friend"
"Oh. Nice to meet you"
He left the room. So suddenly, so swiftly. I silently turned my head as I tried to catch my breath and in that same moment, he turned his and smiled. A perfect smile, and a mouth filled with the shiniest of pearls and caressed by the softest copious pink lips. He stole my breath again, and left me gagging with the embrace of his saccharine aroma.

It came as no surprise that I saw him around the yard the next few days. "What're you doing?" he'd ask as I sat soaking up the sun; or "where are you going?" as I frantically paced towards the sea to drown my worries with the waves. However, no other moment can compare to the night we sat watching a film in the language of my ancestors' oppressors.
"Do you understand German?"  he asked me, not wavering to stare directly into my shy, frightful eyes.
"Yeah. I've been learning it since fifth grade," I replied, barely keeping hold of my breath.
"Can I sit here?"
"Sure," I uttered almost too quickly.
"Willst du mit mir kommen? Ich brauche etwas zu essen," he said, laughing at the grin on my face.
"Ja, ich bin auch hunger," I replied. Laughing to the sound of his laugh.
The walk over the stoney path was silent, and cold. My thick legs shook under the short piece of fabric barely covering my ass.
"You have nice legs."
"Uhm, thank you," I giggled. The compliment wasn't unfamiliar, but I never imagined that a man of so much suave would recognise my minor blessing.
I sat on the table with my legs crossed as I watched him bake a frozen pizza.
"Can you cook?" he asked me.
"I can make toast and eggs, if that counts for anything," I blushed.
"I can't make you my wife then."
The pause was awkward. I looked at him. My eyes must've given away that I was speechless.
"You were meant to laugh," he giggled.
"Oh. ha," I forced out, "I was laughing in my head."
He laughed at the statement, and I laughed at the look on his face. I'd never seen someone look so handsome while laughing so frantically.
I stared at his face while we ate. Assessing the contours of his bone structure, assessing the size of his hands and watching the gestures he made while he spoke. For a moment he stopped, and just looked at me. I looked away shyly, scared of what he might be thinking. He grinned and got up to leave.
We walked over the stoney path again. Saying nothing, only breathing. I was sure he could hear my heart thump against my chest. It was so loud..
We walked, and it thumped.....thumped....thumped....thumped........thumped...
Until we reached the front door, and I reached my arm out to open it. I closed my eyes as I felt the cold sensation grip my waist and spin me over, and gushed out a loud breath of air as my back thumped against the wall and his breathe was on my neck. My heart stopped and his face smiled. A grin so devious and mysterious that it scared me a little bit; but at the same time, his scent and his sinister darkness drew me closer until I could feel his soft lips against mine and taste the sweet, cigarette mixed sap of his being. I felt warm and the cold was suddenly non-existent, and the contours of his body laid so perfectly against mine. I turned my head, and I laughed. He laughed. The cold came back, and my heart beat frantically.
"I like you," he whispered.
"I like you too," I smiled.

Sometimes, in my sleep. I feel that moment wrapping itself around me. The feel of the breeze that hit my skin that night, and his cold hands holding onto my hips. I can feel the hard wall pounding against my back, and the smell of cigarettes smoke flowing off his being.
Sometimes I can feel him here, and I can smell him here, yet more than just a few miles and a few oceans hold us apart. But, sometimes, I can feel him here.

Contemplating love

Silently contemplating,
While my mind is meditating
About a time where I could change it,
Like a caterpillar meta-morphing,
Where the tears were merely raindrops
From clouds of mixed emotions.
And love was just a letter,
Remnants of the alphabet.
So while I'm silently contemplating,
Our minds can keep meditating.
And remember that you once told me, you loved me.
You once told me you loved me.

Because you tried to beat me down...

There are times when I sit occupied in my own thoughts that ring so loudly in my mind that it makes me want to scream. I try to block out the music, and I mask the hurt but there is so much more within that I can't disregard.

They say that happiness is a state of mind and strength is developed. However, I've been trying for the past few months and it hasn't come to me. I've chosen the smiles and roses, and the sunbeams in the sky. I let the light hit my face at an angle, and reflect happiness I can't deny. But when you're hurt is so tremendous, that you're eyes hold back salty swells of tears, and your mouth does that curve that pulls down your cheeks and spills the fills; there's not too much more you can do but cry.

So I'll cry when I need to and smile when I see you because pain isn't something I'd show you. No, you won't see it from me. You won't see me hurt when you throw your words at me. You won't see me hurt when you doubt my honestly. You won't see me hurt, and I won't let you. But I'll let you read this note and understand what you've done, and hope that your conscious is strong enough to eat you up.

October 29 2011

You know how when you find a certain thing, you feel as though it can help you move on from the pain, the drama….and just everything? Well, how distraught you’d become when you find out that this thing only ends up ruining what you had, to the point that it can’t be fixed, and it fills your life with all the shit you were running away from. This is the story of my life, and I don’t know how much more of it I can take.

It was a perfect story. I was the new girl, just trying my best to be accepted. There’s nothing worse than transferring and being rejected like a bad organ. – I dealt with it. I was myself. I said what I wanted, did what I wanted and wore what I wanted… I didn’t trail the trends. I just did my own thing. Despite all that, my self confidence was below average…but I hid it well. People thought I was vane and strong and everything I was not. I was just a tattered little girl running away from everything I didn’t want to face and everything I didn’t want to have to deal with.  

Then I met him, this boy, who I could see sprouting out into a wide chested, god of a man. Like a peacock pursuing his mate, chest stuck out, beautiful feathers spread across the blue of the horizon. Beauty in all its elements; physical, emotional, mental. A handsome man, with a pinch of sensitivity and sensuality, and the intelligence of a conqueror. Was he perfect, or was he beyond it?
To me; he was it. He was everything. I reckon this is when I started to fall,, but I wouldn’t admit it.

As stories go, this peacock was with someone else. A girl I had recently met and made friends with. I was new, and I didn’t want to step on anyone’s toes, so I backed off. Moved away from it and took a different angle. You know how people say “best friends can never have something, and still try to keep the friendship”? Well, at the time I didn’t think about it, and at some point I figured it was a lie, and only now that I’m at the end of the stretch, do I realize it’s true.  When you make this mistake, you throw everything away. A year of work, a year of loyalty, a year of trust, a year of sharing, and a year of bearing it all. You throw it all away before it even begins…and the sad thing is, you don’t even realize what you’ve done till the deal is sealed.

So that’s what I did. I played the best friend angle. We started talking for days at a time; making sure to fit each other into our daily schedules, even just for half an hour of conversation. We knew what it was, and we were happy with it, happy to put a label on it. “Best friends,” we’d tell everyone. We were proud of what we had. I was happy with what we had. I mean, I couldn’t out wrestle the peahen from her peacock. I was merely an insignificant figure in the romance of two striking creatures. I was merely a middle man. I was the girl she’d have sleepovers with and tell about her romance, and the girl he’d tell everything to and talk about his romance. A middleman; but I dealt with it. I cut off my heart from the growing emotion, and I mentally convinced myself there would never be more to it, and I was convinced. I was convinced until the day our 'best friend' banter and silly 'hand' games turned into cuddlesome chatter, and lengths of sleep in each others arms.

Everything grew out, or rather, spread out in my favour. The peahen was dismissed, and I was the topic of discussion. We never spoke about us, and often we spoke about others. I reckon that was just us trying to cut off emotion for the greater good. The smarter thing to do was move past anything, and not linger; build walls that two “best friends” couldn't cross, and hope that somewhere along it all, that wall would stay standing and the friendship could remain….but how stupid were we? We chose to go with the latter. All through December we spoke while he was gone for the break, I went with the peahen to a holiday destination for New Years celebrations. We were biffles, and she was over him. She knew we were sprouting into something, and I denied it to the death of me.  January came fast, and before I knew it, he chopped down the wall. He broke down the barrier, he lingered on a moment and he recreated it, time after time. Two people: one a masculine design from the god Adonis, and the other, just a trifling excuse for a being,, binding into one another’s thoughts and emotions; joys, kisses, cuddles, “I love you’s”…murmurs of something so beautiful. It felt surreal. I was in too deep…I needed to get out, and I did. Minimal talking time I left for him, minimal time for him at all.. – I pushed him away, shoved him out and hid behind a closed door, but he hung about. Waiting for me to retreat this confined space of fear and leap into his arms where just by his touch my joy and lust would be reignited…but I hid out for awhile; a long while. By my birthday he was 11 681.34km away from me, and my heart felt the distance. I cried for him; day after day, after day. –
I’m pretty sure he didn’t cry for me, but I wasn’t too concerned about what his thoughts were and how he felt. All that mattered were the “I love you’s” regardless of the context. I loved him too…forget the context. We loved each other, but we were scared. I was scared to be hurt, to go in too deep and reach a point of no return; a point where when everything fell apart, I would fall apart too.  This was my defense mechanism. I had to protect myself somehow and I did…by shrugging him off. I loved how persistent he was. He kept waiting, kept pushing. I would yell and scream, “I hate you” and he’d be there, in his humility, waiting for me to leap into his arms crying out apologies. I loved him.

All through summer, I knew I loved him. I knew he loved me; I believed he meant it when he said, “I love you Nalene.” Foolish of me to think words of that magnitude could be true. Foolish of me to think. All through the summer, we made plans for our reunion. We were both so keen to see each other again. – I knew it was something real, a sure thing and I figured it was time to open up and get it all out there. Bare my deepest and most hidden emotions, expose my soul, and tear down all borders; I let everything out, raw and naked, all truths. Everything I felt, everything I wanted to see, and everything I wanted to do. Enter. Through time loops and cyber walls of communication, delivered neatly into the mailbox of his email account…Days on end passed, and I waited, I waited for him to jump out into the cold with me, bare; naked…but nothing. Walls put up again. I ignored it. I forgot it and I erased it. I found myself a few foreign blokes to fill my mind and build up my distraction, and how well it worked. Naturally, somewhere in my mind, or heart, these painful thoughts still lingered. Everything I didn’t want to happen, happened. Everything I thought I’d never share, were exposed, and the response to my emotional gamble, was silence; stone cold, chilly silence. Summer came to an end, and I needed to proceed back to my life..and how fearful I was to have to face the rejection. I was terrified.

 The funny thing about rejection is, it changes you. You become this whole other being, this wholee other entity. It’s as though it sucks your soul, your glow out of you, and leaves you a frozen, walking corpse with not even an ounce of feeling. It leaves you numb for the longest time, and I reckon it might kill you if you give it enough time to. I didn’t. I found another way to deal… I always find a way to deal. I built up walls and I hid behind them. I threw stones at anyone who tried to get over and comfort me, and some days I’d sit at the top with a bloke or two, fleeting my emotions for a moment, and just living in that moment…up until one day I sat on this wall with a bloke of a higher degree, a bloke with dirty blonde locks, and soft, misty green eyes; a bloke who I shared a moment with and have now grown attached to. A bloke I think I could love, and cherish and be happy with,, but he’s just a bloke. A bloke with none whatsoever interest in me. A bloke who sees my insignificance and steps aside for a more alluring lassie to come along and snatch; a bloke way out of my league and way out of my reach. It always seem that I pick them wrong, and perhaps I do, but while on this arduous search for true, everlasting love, I need to bump into all the wrong blokes to find the right one.

At the end of it all I’m stuck here. Eating out my brain on how pathetic I am, how insignificant and how unappealing to most I am. I may hide a lot of emotion under layers of cover up and a smile, a huge ego and a loud personality bursting with self confidence and all, but I am just a broken girl, sitting in a corner trying to harness as many beautiful moments, trying to shed an old skin and start a fresh..trying to find someone or something. However, in this life, we can never get what we want, so for the moment I’ll clutch my knees and drown in my own tears.

A Blur Fades

For the past few months I've been crying about things I've lost, and I've tried to work them out. See, people always say someone steps into your life for a reason, and when they leave, there's a reason behind it too.. Yet, as hard as I try, I don't see how some of the characters that have walked into and out of my life have taught me anything. These characters are like ghosts, and the memories you have with them haunt you. Haunt you to a breaking point. A point where you feel like everything inside of you has been drained out dry, and you kinda just fall to your knees because your legs have become so weak, and you just cry openly because hiding it stabs you right in the chest and you're forced to deal with this internal emotional bleeding.

So what if someone walks in and out, and means nothing? What if they haven't had any qualitative value in your life? What then?... Why are you still crying? Shouldn't you spare your tears to water something that still has the potential to bloom instead of wasting them on a tree flower that's already withered out and scorned? See, tears do mean you care because when you're crying, you're hurt; and if something has the power to hurt you, then you cared. So, if they're not crying, then they didn't care, right? Well, you ought to know they are not crying for you. Not a tear has been shed for you. Not an ounce of a care has been given. So, pick yourself up off your scraped knees, and wipe away the tears; because, once you wipe away the salty tears that blur your view, you'll be greeted by familiar faces. You'll have your best friend; for me, this is someone that has been in my life since pre-grade. The girl I spent 3 through 5 with, baking mud cakes in the sand. The girl that provided a shoulder for crying since the days we were in a convent and that has been there for all the drama and somehow managed to stick around. You'll see the girl that has been by your side all through grade school; who lives miles away and still manages to make sure you're alive on a daily basis. You'll see the guy that has been there for you, though sparsely, all through your life. The boy that your mom loves and has become so much like family that not even time, nor distance can force you apart. You'll see the faces of the friends you left behind when you moved on to a new school and a new life, and they'll be there to pick you up when you need it. Indefinitely, you'll meet new people on your audacious walk through life, and when you wipe away the blur, their faces will be there too. Yes, the people that really matter will be there. They'll be there even after you neglect them for months on end to deal with yourself. They'll be there after you yell at them and call them a "bitch". They'll be there even after you swear you're through with them; because those are the people that matter, and those are the ones who care. They are the people you should spend your tears on.

Life is a journey, and all journeys encounter bumps and you can count on there being bumps on the road. The occasional character that walks in, turns your life upside down, then walks out the second work needs to be done. These character choose the easy way out, and if you're like me, a difficult person to have to deal with, you need to get used to these walk-through's, and teach yourself not to be bother once they leave. Yes, once someone walks in then out, it hurts. It breaks you down in ways that are unimaginable if you don't mentally prepare yourself; but I'm here, hoping that I can use my experiences to teach someone else, and hopefully, the pain won't be as bad.

It's not the easiest thing to do, but sometimes, easy isn't the right way out. So, here's to letting the blur fade, and seeing all that's around you for what it is. Emancipate yourself from the sadness, and do what makes you happy. Find a focus, and live for it. Surround yourself with people that matter, and those that make you happy. See, I believe happiness is a state of mind, and if you chose to be happy, you will make decisions that will lead you on a path of just being happy. So choose this path and go for it. You can have your happiness today if you chose to let the blur fade.

Because tears burn my eyes

It's 5 o'clock in the morning... literally...and I can't sleep.
This state of insomnia has given me the chance to think and put a lot into perspective.

This has been the worst school year of my life. Both literally, and emotionally. My head has been somewhere else and hasn't been the least bit focused, and I failed to achieve my best. I failed at life...and all for what?
I failed at life because I chose nights out partying over days spent home, cramming. However, I don't think it was completely my fault. No, there's no one else to blame but myself because I made the decision; but there are so many other factors that contributed. I'd prefer not to be at home, not that there's anything wrong with home, just that I'd prefer not to be there. Being around my family, in this house, carries a vibe that I don't appreciate nor enjoy. For some reason, this house depresses me. It's like moving in a slow river of blackness, just drifting in its darkness and cold, somehow seeking for comfort and warmth. Unfortunately, it is in my tears that I usually find this comfort and warmth, and the drown myself into long hours of sleep.

I believe I am unhappy. Simply, unhappy. I've had many 'conditions' diagnosed. I've been told I'm "depressed", or "bipolar". Some say I just have a ton of mood swings and when no one knows what to say, they tell me I have issues. Maybe I do, I wouldn't really know, but just having these things said makes everything worse. I definitely don't know what wrong with me, or what could be the cause of it. All I know is there it's hard to deal with life. This thought in itself is frustrating, because honestly, I've got everything I could ask for. My life isn't perfect, but there are a ton of things I should be grateful for that I have which many people don't. Yet, despite all this, I still happen to wallow in my own sadness, and this is pushing so close to a sharp edge, and I'm scared of the pain that I'll feel when I fall.

I remember having my life all planned out. I know exactly what I wanted, where I wanted to be and how I was going to get there. I was so sure of what I was going to become, and now, I'm just lost and confused. Everyday I hear about everyone else's plans and I need to sit back for a moment to evaluate what I want. It saddens me so much, that my life has gone off the path it was meant to follow, and now I'm walking through the dark, hoping to eventually see a light that might carry me forward to brighter things. But, if this light is only at the end of the tunnel, how am I meant to not stumble every 3 meters? Do I really deserve to stub my toe every step I take? Is it necessary for me to feel the cold gnawing at my skin? Or, does the dark really have to creep within in me, making me dark and soulless in places that once carried the golden rays of a warm summer's day?

I've tried talking to someone, but talking to people about myself is not something I can do easily. However, writing about it all is something I can do with ease. So, I continue to write, and even in my insomniac state of realization, I can say I somehow find joy. I find joy in writing, and being able to let the tears transform to words. Even when everything is stripped away from me, I can find comfort in writing, and knowing that somewhere, someone can understand my feelings once I put them into words. I'm constantly hoping that the words thrown at me will be erased once people understand, but my hopes are never met.

At the end of the day, I just really want to know what's in all this for me. Is there a life lesson I'm meant to learn? Will this somehow benefit me in years to come? I'm not sure... but for not, I know what I need to do and what I need to eradicate from my life and hopefully this senior year can be as exciting as it's meant to be. I'm not too sure about my future, but I'm hoping that once I get my 38 IB points (I'm being ambitious); my life will sort itself out. I'm hoping that once I start focusing more on me, and less on what everyone else around me is doing, or where they're going, my life will work out just fine. I say to myself everyday, that "If I'm still here, I'm still meant to do something". - and I'm hoping this is true.

I think that all I needed was the time away from the books, and the people to just sit down and think about it. Someone once told me, "It means nothing to talk about it, if you're not going to do anything to fix it," and now that I've got the time, I can fix 'it' and I can fix me.

I will fix me.