A lethal dose of Oxygen

I drank you down like a vitamin,
Like you were good for me.
Calcium, Sodium, Oxygen.
A supplement.
You were a vitamin,
Vital to my survival.
Took down the pill,
With vodka on the rocks
Straight death.
Lack of vitamins,
Suicidal cat on its 8th life.
Do you know you're killing me?
It feels like drowning in fresh oxygen
Slowly dying.
Breathe in, breathe out,
Living death.

Your hands are around my neck.
Your brown eyes and pinks lips,
They smile at me.
Smiling in pristine glory.
Leisurely, I drink you like a vitamin,
Breathe you in like oxygen.
Breathing in death.
Don't let me go,
At least you're touching me.
Keep touching me.
The fervour radiating through your hands,
A sensual death.
Keep touching me.
Clasp me in the entirety of your love,
Or hate.
Let me keep breathing you.
Oh, my lethal dose of Oxygen.

Taking in my vitamins,
A kind of suicidal happiness.
Keep touching me,
Hands around my neck.
Kill me with your life,
Lethal dose of oxygen. 

Suicidal Strangulation

I look around myself,
A place so unfamiliar.
I look outside myself,
It feels so unfamiliar.
The dark evades my space,
Strangles me.
Not a breathe
The uncertainty throttles me
The anguish suffocates me.
Self-torturous, it seems.
"You bitch," I'm yelling at myself.
Hand around my own neck.
No salvation for me now.

I'm just getting started on Happiness

Music had always been a source of many of my tears, because it was only once I turned on my music, behind the confines of my olive green bedroom walls, that I was able to explore the feelings of loneliness and distress that would dig out my insides and leave my guts wrenched in knots of uncomfortable anguish.

Tonight, as per usual, I decided to soothe my soul with the sound of Paramore's sweet clamour, and here I find myself wiping tears off my cheeks once more.

It is not the lyrics of the tune, 'Misguided Ghosts', that have me sobbing, or atleast I do not think it is. I have been seated here, oblivious to what I was hearing, but more concentrated on the way the sound of the drums and the strum of the guitar heave my stomach from it's comfortable internal placing. I figure I am not the only one who has experienced this feeling. The closest thing I can compare it to is what we refer to as 'butterflies in one's tummy', yet, it is not exactly accurate.

Irregardless of my inability to convey the exact feeling I am currently experiencing in my gut, I reckon I am still able to describe every other emotion I am experiencing right at this moment. Apart from the uncontrollable tears, there is a widespread smile reaching across my face. Crying faces are rarely the prettiest and this half smile, half frown isn't making it any prettier, but I am grateful that I am in this moment. I had felt as though I had forgotten what it feels like to be completely happy and completely content. I feel as though I have forgotten what it feels like to know that you are secure, surrounded and loved. I feel as though I have forgotten some of the basic necessities of an average life.

I then questioned where my happiness had gone. Had it sincerely abandoned me, or had I been putting it on the back burner? The question can't seem to find itself an answer, and I most certainly couldn't care too much for dwelling on what had went wrong within myself.

I feel like things are looking up. FINALLY. I had come to the conclusion that I'd never see full happiness again or feel content with the life I was living and the people in it. I feel like I have let go of so many things and the hunch that was growing on my back from all the extra weight has been lifted, and my airways have been restored. I can breathe. The feeling is scary, unfamiliar and for a moment, I was taken a back. What the hell is this feelings?

In the words of Paramore, "It's not a dream anymore, it's worth fighting for". Attaining happiness is not a dream anymore, because I have it and I plan on fighting to keep it around. More than anything, I feel beyond blessed. I feel beyond loved and beyond lucky.

From here on out, it's all love and happiness; and it's only just getting started.

Year in, Year out.

Once again, we're seeing the closing of another year on this here New Years Eve. It's time for those resolutions we never live up to, hanging out with people we potentially want to murder, in the same old place.

So, I find myself here again. Swakopmund. So essentially, what has changed this year? A year later and I'm still in the same place. Last year, I thought I had found something beyond amazing here, only to see it fall apart.

2012 has been the furthest thing from a good year. Suffering deaths, heart ache, emotional instability and self discovery. This year has been a whirlwind of confusion and turmoil. However, I have perhaps learned more about myself in this one year then I have over the course of my entire life. I've discovered my weaknesses and my strengths and I've been able to accept myself for who and what I am. I went through lessons that opened my eyes to the bullshit that was happening around me: the people who were only in my life to see my falter and those who were there to help me grow.

Any year has it's ups and downs and essentially, these are important in ones mission of personal discovery.

To summarize:
1. I lost someone I thought was a friend. I did, however, learn that it was for the best. Self destructive and on her own quest to discover herself, our paths weren't meant to intertwine at this point in our lives.

2. A rift grew between a boy I thought was my soul mate. Soul mate in the sense that he understood me and my reasoning. In as much heartbreak as it caused, it made me realize that I do deserve better. I deserve people in my life that appreciate and accept me as I am.

3. Those two instance made me realize the value of my childhood bestfriends Nash and Niina, and the significance of them in my life. Friends like these are hard to come by, but what comes easy goes easy and I'm glad to say they aren't the type to dispose of me when the going gets a little tough.

4. I have found a long lost sister in another childhood friend. A girl I've known since we were wet behind the ears 8-year olds. She has grown into an elegant figure of a woman, and has played the leading sister role in my life over the last year. A girl I can run to at any hour of the day and someone I find comfort in (because she cooks like a top chef, and I eat my feelings ;)). Much like her mother, she inspires me to be better and strive for better. She is the spitting image of the woman I idolized through my prior youth and in as much as she is not present today, I know she would be just as proud of her daughter as I am.

5. I learned that I am of a destructive nature due to the fact that I can't deal with my emotions, and that realization allowed me to change the course of my own life. I have since minimized my riotous mannerisms and found a more subtle manner in which to deal with my troubles. I owe the end of my walk down a destructive path to my Journal.

6. I have succeeded to understand myself. I know who I am, I know how I look and I am perfectly comfortable with every aspect of myself. I am, however, a human being, thus I will occasionally look into the mirror and find things that could do with some nip and tuck action, but, that's natural and quite necessary in order to avoid vanity.

All in all, the year has been a success. More than anything, life is about learning and this year has been one full of lessons. Do I have resolutions for next year? Absolutely not. Resolutions are somewhat a set up of bad luck. All I hope to do is go through life and take it as it comes.

Prosperous New Year to each and every one of your haunted souls.

Merry 'More Christ' ; 'Christ Gold' and ' With Christ'

It's Christmas day. Supposedly the most beautiful time of the year. I question why it has been graced with that title. From my experience, the day blends in with the other 364 days of the year. Here in Africa that means, dry, hot and well, dreary...

Perhaps the 'beauty' described is one of a more internal and personal experience. Essentially, Christmas is a religious celebration for many societies of the world. Hence, "Christ - mass" or "more Christ" to our Spanish and Filipino mates, or "Christ Gold" to our Malay friends, and "with Christ" to the Maltese natives.

Although my lifestyle is void of any such a concept of religion, I can understand the significance of it to those who place a special belief on some sort of higher power and entity. Perhaps far from similar, but the only synonymous example in my thoughts at this very moment, it may well be the same as our belief in time. Intangible and imperceptible, yet it is something we continue to believe in because in a sense, we feel it. We feel time whooping by us, much like I've experienced this year glide by while I took my afternoon nap.

So, what is this "Christmas" day to me? Over the years, during my more religious youth and upbringing, it was indefinitely the birth day of Christ. A day in which I was appreciative of his birth as it essentially led to my 'original sin' being absolved. It was a day of prayer and giving thanks with my family, and as a reward, I received presents and ate a warm meal. A meal that was more unique than any other meal I may have eaten throughout the year.

However, as I grew up and started to explore the religion I was initiated into (somewhat like a cult), I came to realize that more than any religious occurrence, this day was merely a day used by society to exploit human naivety. In as much as I'd like to blame society for commercializing the occasion, I must put some of the blame on us, as individuals. We should have been able to take a step back and recognize that we are being exploited, because, essentially, if we are celebrating the birth of 'Christ' on this day, why is it more important to some of us to receive gifts than say prayers? Or why do we believe in a Santa Claus? A big, old, white pedophile man, who much like Micheal Jackson (may his blessed soul rest in peace) have children sit on his lap and demand things.

I am certain many will read this post and be utterly disgusted at what I have to say, how I perceive this occasion and how I (obviously) misunderstand the symbolism of everything. However, I believe in simplicity and any possible reasons as to why 'Christ's birth' has become so commercial and complicated eludes me.

So, for the Christians of you who are about to eat pork belly with your pierced ears, surrounded by sodomites and homosexuals, I wish you a blessed Merry Christmas, because obviously, you are some legit Christians. Christ, on his birthday, is extremely pleased with you.. So, enjoy that pork belly.

Those of you who are simply keen to indulge in the feast ahead of you and appreciate the presents you receive on this one 'special' day, enjoy it. It's somewhat like a second birthday. :)

...Cheerie Christmas and a Ho Ho Ho.

A little girl's love

I often revisit memories. I sit behind this screen and look back to messages from early 2-11. I read through our new life teenage experiences. I read how I cussed out at you when you yelled at me. Was it never evident that I didn't appreciate being yelled at on the curb? 'Niggah is ya blind. Shit abou ta geh real G up in dis...". The inside jokes that only we'll understand.

I read through our virtual celebrations of our 'anniversary'. It coincided with your birthday. "We became friends on this day. Before this, you just stalked me on Facebook like a creeper". I laugh. I cry. The memories so crisp. They feel so distant. Associated with songs. Your songs. "Make sure when you listen to these, they remind you of me." Hard headed as I was, I said they never would. But guess what? They do now. Now that I miss you.

You looked out for me. Looking back, I see why it fell apart. I was cold, scared and reserved. They say you never know what you have till you lose it, and the rebuttal to that is 'you know what you have, you just don't appreciate it'. I guess it's a bit of both. Or not? I didn't know what I had. It's a little to late to come to this realization. I'm sorry I never showed you your worth. I'm hoping now you know, you were my world.

The jokes we shared that still have me laughing, make me want to pick up my phone and share it with you again, but I hesitate. Perhaps it's my pride. Could it be? No. It's the memory of you hurting me. I can't forget you hurt me. I'm not sure you know it but I'm fearful of you, as a result. Not fearful per say, but scared to approach. It's like standing at the edge of a cliff, anticipating the fall. Why does it feel so distant when it used to be a warm embrace?

I guess I'll just laugh and cry at the memories. Laugh and cry at the memories. Thinking of the change churns my insides, and stirs me in a manner that is incomprehensible, even to my own psyche. I don't know how to respond to it. What do I say to you? Could you tell me what you want to hear? 'Despite my empty mouth, the words are in my mind' - Adele could not have said it any better. I'm lost for words with you. I'd love to tell you how I feel, whisper it into your ears, but you're so far away. I'm waving goodbye with tears in my eyes.

...But it's a part of growing up. We're not the same children we were a year ago. You've morphed into a man, your jaw tells me so. I've transformed into a woman, my hips show me this. Yet, the innocence of a pure love stirs the little girl in me. A first love experience indeed. A first love I can't forget. Perhaps, I need to get away, to feel again.

Although it might hurt, these memories I forget. So although I'd like to excuse you and tell you, "First love, we're through" our youth will forever hold onto each other. But you're bribing me to doubt myself. 'Forgive me first love'.

I can't miss you anymore

I can't miss you anymore, because I can't cry anymore. I can't look at your face everyday, and reminisce on what we had, because it hurts too much to miss you. It hurts to much to wonder whether you miss me too, but now I know you do, and somehow, that hurts even more.
I could never understand why you left me in the cold. I took the leap and you let me fall. I could never understand why you never reached out. I guess I need some closure. Or rather, 'needed' some closure, because now, I can't miss you anymore.

I can't miss you anymore, because your smile for her smile hurts my heart. So, I can't miss you anymore as a remedy to my heartache. I can't miss you anymore, because your jaw has become defined. You are no longer the boy I knew, but rather a man I don't know. So, I can't miss you anymore, because you no longer exist.

I can't miss you anymore because it's become too difficult to hold on. My finger tips ache from holding onto the ledge of the pane I should so long ago have let go of. Yet, I allowed myself to miss you for sometime. I forced myself to focus on the positives so that the pain of missing you didn't seem so intense, but it was loud. So, I can't miss you anymore, because I need to mute the sound.

I can't miss you anymore. I need relief. I can't miss you anymore, honey, I need to breathe. I can't miss you anymore, because you don't exist. I can't miss you anymore, because I'm losing my mind. I just can't miss you anymore, and maybe, at last, I'll be fine. 

A distant longing

To fit in, one must first belong. To fit in, does not mean to conform.. To fit in, means to be accepted as is. To fit in, is what we all long for.

To fit in, is to be surrounded by individuals who adore you and appreciate your company. To fit in, means to know who to call when the day seems unfruitful. To fit in, means to know with whom you stand when they day is grey.

To fit in, means to feel familiar in the unfamiliar. To fit in, means to voice opinions without fear of judgement, rejection or condemnation. To fit in, means to be yourself with all certainty.

To fit in, means smiles, laughs, tears. To fit in, means high, low, fears. To fit in, means together apart, one heart. To fit in, means nothing separating 5 hearts.

1 heart, my heart. Low. Fears. Tears. Uncertainty. Fearful of judgement. Judged. Opinions silenced; scared to be condemned, denied. Unfamiliar in my familiar. Alone in the dark. Sunny Saturdays in my blanket's shade. No appreciation, no adoration. A longing, a need. But not the usual, nor a conformist.

Belonging. A distant longing. 

Insomnia: One

Everybody needs to stop.
The hurts, the feels, the cries, the lies.
Human demise.
Sinking in ships that we built,
Ask Noah how to stay a float.
God can't be real,
Is he playing his role?
Randomly ranting because insomnia has me in it's grips.
Questioning,
Saying spells from these lips.
Thinking, thoughts.
Rolling, Cops.
But the edge of the cliff
Doesn't look too scary.
Lied to me.
I think I'm ready.
1 foot forward,
I can't step back.
But it's okay
Because I'm dying with no doubts.

The Day Has Come Where I Have Died

...Everybody thinks they're the only ones hurting. They say words thinking their the only ones hurting. Everybody thinks their the only ones hurting...until someone decides to end it. Until someone decides to die.

The cold dead, cupped by the warmth of the blood dripping from their wrists and puddling beneath the cold white tiled floor. The cold dead, symbolized by the white dress worn to pray for innocence to a God who doesn't give a shit. Perhaps it's something like a parent who kills off their offspring when they're born with a defect. Will the age come where we'll be aware of a fetus' psychological defects so we can kill it before it kills itself? Genetic screening is frowned upon by many societies and many individuals because we cannot fathom the idea of 'killing someone off' because they don't live up to what you want (perhaps they have down-syndrome, genetically carried diseases, etc) but would it not help the 'masses' to kill someone that will eventually kill themself?

Well, I killed the girl in my bed last night. She was lying there, with her eyes wide open because the horror movie playing out in her reality was too distressing and heartbreaking to allow her to shut her black eyes. I hovered over her, watching her mouth quiver and wells of tears build up in the sacs of her eyes. Her pride was holding her back, but when I stroked her shoulder, chills sent down her spine, she let down the sluices and let the dam flow over. I held her, I felt her ache, I felt the black hole where her heart stood. Her life played out, recollections of hidden memories. Vases thrown to walls, "you bitch" yelled out, a little girl curled under her sheets. Tears. Head laying in a puddle of wet sheets. Guilt. Regret. Pain. The overwhelming pain of puncturing her skin. The comfort she felt. Momentarily forgetting the hurt..............................................................................................................................................................................................................

The bed was bleeding. Drip. Drip. Drip, it leaked off the duvet, counting the seconds. The light became brighter. The pain became distant. She smiled before she shut her eyes, savoring the moment. The first instance in which nothing else mattered. Her heart beat faded, her pulse grew slow and her black skin went pale.

I killed the girl in my bed. She's slept alone for the last night. I killed the girl in my bed last night, and the scars on my wrists will forever be a reminder of my glorious deed as I walk these paths identified by my soul. I killed myself in my bed last night, and the happiness is overwhelming.