Kings, they sit amongst each other, feasting on rum and wine. They eat and drink, mock laymen and slash servants for fun. The kings awake the next morning with bitter hangovers, only to rule the People whose integrity was entirely disregarded merely hours prior.
Councillors, they converse with each other, sampling brandy and whiskey. They sup and swallow, scoff at their kings and throw crumbs at kids. The Councillors rise at dawn with no hangover, ready to persuade the kings to follow their tactics while simultaneously riding on moral high-horses, ripping off the underprivileged with unrequited taxes.
School children, they play alongside each other, drinking ale and juice. They gargle and guzzle, taunt each other and start brawls for personal amusement. The children awaken in the morn for school, only to be reprimanded by teachers for inappropriate attire and caned for disrespect.
Paupers, they laugh amongst each other, sipping gin and stale beer. They nibble and gulp, make a mockery of themselves and smash bottles across each others’ heads for fun. The paupers awake the next day with fuzzy heads, knowing that their actions only justified the ridicule of their rulers.
The People, the entirety of the humans, all engaged in the same manner with those who shared in their sameness. They all rotated like gears in a clock, trying to make it from sunrise to sunset without disrupting the direction. They were all the same, for they all shared in the belief that they were different. From kings with their superiority complexes to paupers with their simplex inferiority: each to its own, all did the same.
Despite this reality, their egos allowed them all to believe they were unique.
Muscles carve into my bones
Like hot, bubbling gelatin
Legs are filled with pebbles and stones
Dragging calcified iron bars within
Shoulders fall with under the weight of the world
Dangling arms, weak and insecure
I rest my head upon my pillow
Looking down at my world below
Books and boxes everywhere
Memoirs of moments shared
Between every you and every me
Every fragment of my reality
Inhale, exhale… breathe
Air goes from my lungs to my knees
To my fingers, my feet, my toes
Out again through the nose
Finally, a moment to just take a breath
Wake in the morning and start afresh
Soldier on through the day
As they always say
No rest for the weary
The thought is scary
But the concept is rarely
As bad as reality
When all’s said and done
Hard work is always fun
When it all comes together
The puzzle is clearer
The writing’s on the wall
The boxes, on the floor
The pictures’re on the door
We’ve all been here before
November 14, 2016
-Wrote this after a long day of moving boxes, tried out a slightly less abstract, more narrative style.
For the full version of the collection, click the link at the bottom.
“Duties call, and Lady Aria must step up to the throne and rule the Kingdom of Zyne. Due to the obligations and responsibilities weighted down by her title, Lady Aria loves silently from the shadows as she performs her life as a masquerade for Zynites. These are the letters between Lady Aria and her secret love, known only to peasants as C.H.”
It has been a long time since I’ve written you a letter from the heart. Yes, it’s not the first, and it may not be the last. But it is a letter nonetheless, one that should be read; if not by you, then by those who will meet you in the future.
For the longest time you have been a key part of my life: my existence, my core, my all. I became dependent on you in my time of weakness, of need, of vulnerability, letting you in and giving you that freedom to roam around my world. You did, and you were a lovely contribution to what was once a monotonous and decaying life.
You were a rainbow, a sunshine, one of the brightest lights I’d ever seen, especially on my darkest days.
But you also came with collateral, one that I did not comprehend until much too late. The collateral that did not explode or destroy upon impact, but slowly imploded, leaving the toxins to seep out of the crevices of a cracked shell. You were that destruction I needed, to slaughter my demons and fight through the pain. You consumed the evil in my life, and I let you.
They feared you, but they loved me. You were my protection, the blazing amour of a knight in the night. They were apprehensive around you, but embracing of me. They blamed you for the pain in my life, not realising that youwere the one protecting mefrom them in the first place.
Nay, their egos and self-centredness I could not fight…but you could, and you did. You brought out the sides of them they always feared the most, the sides they never wanted (me) to see for they stupidly believed they could escape pain.
My friend, you were the best and the worst thing that ever happened to me — the best, because I learned how strong I could truly be if I let the right people stay by my side. But the worst, because you had to wear me down completely until I accepted my limits. Not simply understanding limitations, but a full-on acceptance that I am fundamentally a flawed human being.
Just like the rest of them.
You showed me how to stop caring about what anyone else thought, that if people had anything bad to say it was generally a projection of insecurity and not a justifiable validation. You showed me that if people truly did care, they’d communicate in a sincere way rather than lash out based on emotional impulse.
You, my friend, you showed me the difference between emotions and excuses.
For this particular reason, I thank you for all that I have learned, all that I have seen, and all that I have become because of your persistence.
You taught me that, too. You taught me that it was never about being the biggest, or the strongest, but rather the one with the most endurance.
Thank you, my friend.
I don’t want to let you go…and by the looks of things, maybe I don’t need to, either.
I’m sorry for being wrong, and I’m sorry for thinking you were the cause of my destruction.
Perhaps there was nothing wrong with her to begin with, and she was just as normal as everyone else. But maybe it was her honesty that landed her where she was now—a rut. All that she once represented, all that she once was, the person she used to be, all left behind with the rest of her past. Her memories are what they are—memories. None of it the reality of now, rather a fragment of the past she carries around with caution.
No one can explain her, no one understands her. No one can love her to the capacity she does. She’s alone, but not. Thrown into this place she couldn’t comprehend, this place she could never absorb, she sits in wonder. She watches as the cars go by, as people fall into the deep abyss of love. She watches as people don’t realize they’re being watched.
Life, the one big controversy waiting to erupt. Or maybe, just maybe, it already has. Maybe this rut she’s in is the result of being swept away by lava carrying to this state of confusion.
She watches everyone around her—no one is normal. No one conforms. No one can fully blend in with the scene. So what was she doing here on her own? Was there even an “answer” to such a question?
Tears started forming in her eyes as she unraveled the memories of her past. She wanted things to go back to the way they were. She would give up all emotions, even happiness, just so that she would never feel pain again. A long time ago, she was never happy; but a long time ago, she was whole and complete. A long time ago, she was never broken.
She had to fight back the liquidized demons they called “emotions” that were beginning to fall from her face. No, she couldn’t be weak. She couldn’t let society win. But society itself had an advantage over her. It was closing in tightly around her, entrapping her, blocking her from herself.
Outside this cage was a mirror.
Inside this mirror stood a girl with a distorted smile. She was pretty, and she was smiling. The eyes in the mirror told a story, a happy story. But as she studied this intriguing person, she realized that her hands were tied. She had no means of breaking free, but she was happy. The person in the mirror sighed. A tear drop trickled down her cheek, fell to the ground, but didn’t break. A single teardrop, so small and fragile, yet so strong it did not shatter as it hit the floor.
This girl looked away. She couldn’t bear the image of a teardrop. Looking down, she found a pool of clear water on her shoulder. She looked away. These teardrops were her memories melting, liquidizing. She couldn’t fight it anymore. She looked back at the mirror once more, at the girl who smiled and hid her tears. The girl whose hands were bound, yet didn’t struggle to break free. The girl, who could be happy.
She blinked, and turned around.
On and on she ran, looking away from anything which fueled her memories, her emotions.
Those memories, no matter how close they were to her heart…were unfinished.
I was stuck in a room with the two of them, both of whom felt the other to be intolerable. I was summonsed to arbitrate the situation, a mediation of sorts. Why? Well…I was about to find out.
When I’d first entered the room, I saw him sitting there with a sideways glare, arms folded across the chest in his tight black t-shirt, leg crossed over the other as his foot rested on his knee.
She, she was no better. She had her arms folded across her chest, too, but take away the glare and replace it with a whole bunch of huffs and hisses, fidgeting with the cuffs on her white jacket.
So this was my situation. They couldn’t agree. Again.
It wasn’t my first time dealing with this pair, either. And for matters of respecting their confidentiality, we shall give them nicknames. He will be called the Head, and She will be called the Heart.
My last few encounters with these two weren’t particularly pleasant; don’t get me wrong, we did achieve wonderful results. But my, how these two fought…so worth it. So entertaining, too, in retrospect. See, in my experience with these two, Heart always knew what she wanted. She was full of desire, of want, of love and compassion. She was kind, but she was strong as a boulder that would not change, only…fade…
Head, on the other hand, had this tendency to be right every single time. He was logical, calculated, and understanding. The empathy he lacked was replaced with honesty; brutal at times, but he didn’t play games.
When Head took the lead on the argument, the outcome would generally be of mutual benefit. Head had an objective outlook on life and was able to take himself out of the picture when analyzing a situation.
Heart, however, would always lead with her emotions. She cared about how people felt in a situation, and she also cared about herself. Heart was less likely to take herself out of the picture, and for that reason, allowed Head to take the lead when it came to situations involving others…
For years, Head was the one who made a regular appearance. He was the one trained to talk to people. Head had kept Heart hidden to protect her for so long that she didn’t quite know how to get what she wanted.
For that reason, I was asked to be present today. I had to solve their dilemma…for the first time, Heart wanted something that only Head knew how to get, and Head’s advice went against Heart’s desire.