The Curious Adventures of Gordan's Thoughts

When I lack direction
They give me religion

When I lack discretion
They squelch my questions

When I challenge regimes
They corner me into the mainstream

When I seek advice
They tell me to sacrifice

When I ask for help
They tell me to save myself

When I offer my assistance
They react with resistance

When I show my presence
They criticize me for pretense

When I grace them with absence
They sense the suspense

When I try to improve
They ask me to move

When I try to take a break
They shower me with headaches

When I act like myself
I’m a demon from hell
But when I embrace civility
I’m denying reality

When I fail
They silence my wails

When I succeed
They start to proceed

When I decide to just “be”
They tell me I’m bored and lazy

When I assertively take action
They want a piece of the faction

When I talk to humans
They sense my commotion

When I disengage
They become enraged

It is not that I am trying to please
Each and every one around me
But if I am to admit, honestly
It’s that I can’t find my place in this city

 

MG

 

A king’s crumb
The pauper’s pearl
~MG~

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.

But they weren’t.

They really, really weren’t.

 

MG

 

“Try something new,” she had said, responding to the unspoken yearning I’d been having for adventure.

What’s new? I had wondered, constricted by the limitations of my imagination. And bank account. Try something new…

I’d been pondering for months what “new hobby” would satiate my thirst. For months, I dreamed of playing the violin, of resting it gently in my left hand, tips to the fingerboard, bow at the ready as if it were a wand, preparing to cast a spell of musical magic.

But there was something at the back of my head whispering, “one thing at a time my dear. One thing at a time.”

Eager beaver I was, always wanting to cultivate or learn something: another instrument, another language, another sport,  a new skill, expand my world and all that. The mere thought of balancing all of that amidst a life of work, academics, social life and relationships, would be overwhelming to most people.

I suppose I’m “different” that way. I was…determined.

And so I tried something new. Contrary to what I had thought, t’was not a passive hobby that was needed, but rather an expressive outlet. An aggressive and intense activity that had the adrenaline pumping with the risk level fairly low.

I tried something new.

I packed my bag and prepared for a day out at sea. It was sunny with very few clouds blotted around the sky. There was a gentle breeze, barely noticeable unless one was consciously looking out for it. The sun blazed down ever so softly, discreetly, but silently lethal if one was not careful.

It had been years since I had last been in these waters, a decade, perhaps. I strapped the board to my feet and tightened the laces, with enthusiasm and confidence. Though it had been years, and I was a little nervous, I was more excited than I had felt in a very long time.

Smiling at the board with silent anticipation, I jumped into the water and let my body adjust to the temperature. The water is your friend, I told myself, as the touch of the ocean against my skin shocked the city-life out of my system momentarily.

Try something new, she had said.

At that moment, I was more grateful than ever to even have this opportunity, to have this experience. To have this kind of freedom that very few truly understand, let alone appreciate. I was grateful for my friends, for their presence and company.

And I was grateful for the sea, for the fun I was about to have.

I gripped the handle and the motor roared into action. In seconds, I was up and gliding across the water. The waves washed over my feet as I tilted forward and backwards, controlling the direction of movement. The sun blared over my head and the wind blew at me as I soared across the waves.

It had been years, but I was finally back.

Finally… free.

 

 

MG

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

MG

 

November 14, 2016

-Wrote this after a long day of moving boxes, tried out a slightly less abstract, more narrative style.

Dear younger self,

I am going to write this from the perspective of an older self that you have only recently come to understand.

There was a time you thought you knew it all, m’dear, you thought you had it all figured out. Much of it owed to what those around you allowed you to believe; they put you on that pedestal you never asked for, gave you the attention you never felt you deserved, treated you with their version of “respect”.

Young self, you must understand one thing, not everyone is like you. Yes, you’re self-indulged, but they, m’dear, they are self-absorbed. They’re too caught up in the busyness of their own lives to appreciate all you have to offer. So hold onto some of it, dear, don’t give all of it away.

You invite them into your world, but you have yet to discover the galaxies inside of you. They know not of these universes that you, too, are unaware of at this moment, but they see the light shine through and are drawn to it.

You can welcome them, m’dear, you were born to be hospitable. You were born with arms longer than the average human, arms that reach around the world and embrace the souls that are in genuine need of touching. It’s what you do, because of the kindness, grace, and mercy that has gotten you this far. So don’t take it for granted, m’dear. Hold onto that.

One day, you will reach a realization that you can choose who to let in — yes. everyone who enters deserves respect and sincerity, but not everyone will choose to stay. And for that reason, my young self, know your boundaries and accept your limits. Know your role in their lives, and accept that you can’t be a saviour to your entire world.

Sometimes, transformation does begin by letting go, by pushing yourself off the cliff that was once your comfort zone, your nest.

One day, m’dear, you will meet someone who can and will do for you all that you’ve done for others. Someone who will look at you, appreciate you, and not want to let you go. Someone who not only has that desire, but also that willpower.

So for now, m’dear, do not rush. Don’t be that impulsive naive self that got you into the wreck in the first place. The wreck was so long ago anyway, it may as well be a divers’ hub by now. Swim away, m’dear. There’s nothing more you can do than you’ve already done to atone for the atrocities of your past.

I am that future you never dared to dream of, m’dear. That future is now present.

Embrace it, love. It’s time to stop surviving the storm and start thriving from what the waves have washed ashore.

Now that you’ve learned to shield yourself from waves and breathe underwater, how about moving on up and learn to ride that wave?

 

 

MG

 

 

 

 

Submarines.

Float, sink, swim.
Up, down
Back, forth
Dare I say,
in and out.

Over, under.
Immerse, emerge.
Plunge, halt.
Release, holt.
Forward, backwards.
Round, straight.

Bullet.
Proof.

Never missile proof.

Resistance of the seas
Push and pull
Against the currents
Along with the wave-
-lengths
Of fluidity
As evidenced
By the ever-flowing,
Always-forward,
Sometimes-evaporated
Seas

Reflecting the skies.

Blue, sunny

Vast.

Endless stretch into eternity
Infinity on the rise.

And fall.

Compress.

 

Resist.

 

Fight through.

 

And emerge.

 

MG

 

Love is our resistance
They keep us apart and they won’t stop breaking us down
And hold me, our lips must always be sealed
If we live our life in fear
I’ll wait a thousand years
Just to see you smile again
~Muse~

 

M.

I write to you from the bottom of this empty pit you used to call a heart. You had a heart once, remember? Back in the day, when you always had someone to love. When you had everything to give and nothing to lose. When you truly believed in the kindness of humanity and allowed as much leeway for others as they did for you.

Do you remember what it’s like to love, what it’s like to look at someone and just be able to take yourself out of the picture, to be able to care about the betterment of that person more than your role in the life of another?

I don’t think you do, my dear. I don’t think you want to. I think you’ve loved to your fullest capacity and given it all away — you’ve given your heart away. You’ve given your soul away. You’ve given your body away. You’ve given your mind. You’ve given away so much of yourself that you’re left with the core.

I’ve seen your core, my dear, and I know exactly what it entails for you to be you. I understand your intelligence, I know how it feels to be ostracized by ignorance and idiotic masses who have been lowering the standards of what is produced because they’re too entangled in their own egos and insecurity. I know your pain when you look at the world and watch people care more about their reputations more than the people in their lives who give it to them in the first place.

I know you, my dear, I know that you’re suffering. And I know that you choose to suffer because you want to be around the broken. You want to be the saviour of the world, for you’ve had people save you when you didn’t even realize you were drowning.

My dear, I’ve spent years in search of you. Every broken, shattered shard of glass that you turn yourself into every day that you look at this chaotic and monotonously egotistic world of humans. I’ve been trying to piece you back together, despite your relentless resistance towards being whole.

I’ve given you space to do this alone. I stayed out of your way so that you could grow. I’ve stayed in the background in case you backslide, I’ve been at the bottom of the canyon in case you fall. You can do this alone, but your solitude…has collateral…

You might want to be left alone, but my dear, I know how dangerous you can be when no one is reining in on you. I also know that you can’t be contained, which is why I wouldn’t dare try.

But one thing is certain. You want someone to stay…you just can’t accept that you have it already.

Because my dear…here I am.

I’ve been here all along. You just never realized it while you were so busy watching the great-wide-world break that you didn’t even notice the cracks in your own. The earthquakes and tsunamis reaching out to you from the depths of what you once loved about yourself.

Back when you still knew how to love.

Back…when I was a secret, and not a performance.

Back when…

I was you.

 

 

G.

 

Do you remember, m’dear
Back when you had everything to confront yet nothing to fear
Everything to give and nothing to lose
Everything decided and nothing to choose? 

Do you remember when you looked up at the buildings?
The skyscrapers?

Do you remember when you tried to do it alone?
You dug and dug
more and more rabbit holes 

Do you remember? 

When you challenged a system that was created for
You,
not to challenge but to enjoy.
Still you chose to explode and destroy
Be it with excitement
Unprecedented curiosity
Unencumbered fascination
But do you remember your impulses?

Do you remember being… 

 

free…? 

 

MG 

You left in haste
Without a trace
Which probably explains why
It’s taken a while

To learn to love again
To learn to be a friend
To learn to value you
To learn to embrace the new
You were wonderful, Skye, yes you were
For the longest time you were my only world
The only person who held the key
To uncovering my mysteries
But now, my dear, I have discovered
Other entrances hidden under rubble
Under the debris of our earthquake
When you brought down the worlds we made
I have sifted, oh, how I have searched
Through sand, and ash, lye and dirt
At first, of course I was looking for you
But over time the search was subdued
The reality soon faded into a memory
And present times became history
When all’s said and done, where will you be?
While all’s left standing is… me

I’ve found another entrance dear, one you didn’t know
Buried far beneath ice and a thousand layers of snow
It took a long time to find it, time, heat and friction
Laid under slates encoded with alien diction
Then I looked closely at the engravings
There were patterns perplexing and penetrating
Right to the core of all dissent
Of dissonance, of regret, and resentment
The code was the final key I needed
To blast through the ice that melts and refreezes
To access the entrance to a cave of mystery
Unencumbered selves, shattered in pieces
I’d put them back together in time
With cracks so perfect, lines so fine
Formulating a new me, me dear
Rising from the ashes, the fire I feared
But fear does not become me anymore, Skye
It does not hover as a shadow by my side
I have seen the light at the end of the road
And I’m ready, now, to free-fall into the unknown…

MG

(Excerpt from Dear Skye by Mikaela Gordan. Originally posted on Wattpad. Click for link.)

(Creative writing: May 2009 – when it all began)

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.

MG

I spent some time in a metaphorical submarine as the unconscious unfurled while I sought answers in the depths of me. Thankfully, I did have wifi connection wherever I went, so upon emerging from the deep blue seas, it was not a particularly intimidating readjustment. If anything, I was rather excited to come back to life fully revived and ready to thrive.

In my journeys far from humanity, I discovered many treasures that lay beneath the tidal waves where few dare to venture. These observations quenched my thirst and satiated my hunger in the days where human interaction was scarce; when those above sea-level lived their lives offline, engaging in human activities such as parties, discussions, sports competitions, birthdays and weddings, explorations of the natural world or what not.

It wasn’t until the humans commemorated their life in a shared memory space called the Cyber-Web did I know what was going on in the world above. It was entertaining, I enjoyed living vicariously through those I once knew, and those I had yet to know. Being a few hundred feet below sea-level with only a dozen other souls definitely beat soaring thirty-thousand feet above sea level with four hundred anxious flyers. There was less…turbulence, so to speak. Less chaos in the depths.

I observed the humans, they amused me. As times got tougher and the planet became hotter, each for his or her own reason reached for the skies, seeking life in more temperate regions. Those from the Cold Lands migrated further east, towards where the sun rose. Those from the Hot Lands aimed to move North, away from the sun and into more habitable temperatures.

The humans moved and migrated, each taking a piece of the land to new lands, cultivating and planting new seeds in soils becoming more and more crowded. What was once intended to be a garden soon became a forest, one that later branched into a rain-forest. Lands soon changed and merged, as physical survival became the sole focus of humans. Those who did not face physical challenges soon became bored and created  problems for themselves; problems of perception, of opinions, of emotions, and of status.

Humans…

I returned, for I missed the chaos.

MG

Perhaps one day we’ll meet again
In the sky or in the sea. 
And though it was water that washed us away
T’was the winds that blew you to me… 

 

I love you, but I couldn’t save you.

Only you can save yourself, darling, and what breaks my heart… is that you don’t even realise you’re drowning in a cesspool of melancholy.

I came to you and reached out, lent you a hand to pull you from all that. You tried, and climbed as far as you could until you got sucked in by the whirlpool all over again.

You tried to drag me down with you, but I refused to cave. I tried, but my feet were too rooted in the cemented foundations I’d spent years securing for myself. I tried to follow you, but the currents that flooded my path were too strong…I could only move forward, darling, but I handed you a rope to bring you with me.

We pulled and pulled, held on for as long as we could.

But neither of us could fight nature…

You got sucked in by your whirlwind, and I by the rushing rapids.

I’m sorry, my love. I tried. I know you did, too. But I’m sorry I couldn’t do what you needed me to be

 

Perhaps one day we’ll meet again
In the sky or in the sea. 
And though it was water that washed us away
T’was the winds that blew you to me…

MG

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