We Were, Now We Aren’t

I once was young and I was naïve
I dreamed of a future where we would be
Together we’d fight, you with me
Hand in hand so sturdily

We pushed each other to rise above
The hatred thrown by the world at us
Together we fought them using our love
The assumption that it would simply be enough

Slowly we pushed each other to grow
To become… (whatever we are now)…I don’t know
We pushed so hard our unity broke
Here we both are, standing alone

Perhaps at one point we were the same
Pushed ourselves then each other away
You led me to believe we were on the same page
Yet your words were rehearsed and our fights were staged

Did you know it would come to this?
Did you know it when we first kissed?
Was this my doing, or is this your wish?
Is there still a chance, even just a bit…?

 

MG
(Narration of an observed journey)

The Path Not Taken

I looked at old pictures
Of you and of us
Trying to muster an apology
For not being “good enough”
All that came out
Were words of honest truth
“I’m sorry that I was never
Broken enough for you”

For months I kept trying
To go back and apologise
Kept thinking I’d done wrong
That I’d accidentally lied
In retrospect I realize
The only mistake I’d made
Was not spotting your disguise
I thought was “compromise”

You’re so used to being depressed
That you throw away happiness
Every chance you get
You stop to analyse instead of progress
You were noticeably different when we met
A lot less distressed
A lot more perplexed
And a lot more invested

I, too, was trying to process
A great deal of unrest
The turmoils of our youths
Eventually split me from you
I took time to rebuild myself
You, instead, ran to hell
Got comfortable and stayed there
Whining that no one cared

Slowly, I faded out of your life
Drifted effortlessly into mine
One that I had relentlessly created
To include only those who motivate
And silently exclude those who berate
My world invites but does not force
Just come through the door
Don’t break down the walls
You are always more than welcome to stay
But you deliberately choose not to pull your own weight.

 

MG

 

Reflective Rambles

(This ramble rambles on a little, beware.)

So what that I used to be more extroverted and now I’m more introverted? So what that I used to care about the material world and now I care about the metaphysical one? So what that my room is chaotic when the wars in my head have finally subsided?

Yes, I know that every day is a blessing and a stepping stone towards the future. I know that what happened in the past is a reflection of what I once thought was important. I know that history is a representation of how large our complacent, arrogant egos measured compared to each new tomorrow.

And I know that the future is only influenced by what we do today, but it is in no way defined or determined.

Destiny is never “one goal” but a series of different choices we make in order to arrive at a destination we gear towards — most of the time, anyway.

Yes, unexpected occurrences are a part of life, things change and those inconsistencies sometimes affect our rhythms. But I suppose growing up is merely a compilation of learning how to account for differences — knowing how to mold ourselves into situations that are out of our control.

We can’t change reality, but we can change how we respond to it. We can’t always get what we want, but we can generally strive for our needs. “Wants” and desires are preferences, they are nothing more than what we’ve been feeding our egos this whole time. Needs, on the other hand, are the aspects that keep us physically and mentally in check. The rest falls into place as long as these aspects are regulated.

With all these regimented policies I’ve made for myself, committing to them has led to a freedom I was always fighting for but had no idea what it looked like until I attained it.

Yes, I’m freer than I was but not as free as I can be.

Freedom to me? Free of anxiety, of anger, of rage, of pain. Free of impulsivity, of disparity within myself. Free of unnecessary desire, of irrational delusions. Free, but still with a few remnants to de-clutter. I mean, if I did it all at once, there’d be nothing left to do. So why the rush? It’s not like I’m trying to prove anything to anyone, so why be impulsive about it?

I used to be in a rush to grow-up, but now that I’m a little bit more “grown’, one thing I learned along the way is that you can’t rush growth.

What you can rush though, is getting your work done before the due dates and paying bills on time. Other than that… there is really… no…….. r..u….sh……………

 

MG

 

 

Protected: Who You Really Are

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Exhaustion

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.

What Are We?

i am one

What are we?
We are a generation.

A generation of dreamers
who are told to walk when we can fly.

A generation of poets
who speak of nothing but truth.

A generation of scholars
who are censored through education.

A generation of learners
who know nothing and everything.

A generation of thinkers
whose thoughts we are taught to suppress.

A generation of radicals
who are oppressed by our leaders.

We are a generation.

A generation of non-conformists
who are intimidating to the sheep of our society.

A generation of critics
who live by a standard.

A generation of soldiers
who are willing to fight.

A generation of fighters
who are trained to live by standards set by society.

A generation of creators
who create a paradigm of humanity.

A generation of philosophers
who are criticized for depth.

A generation of influence
who are hindered by time.

A generation of doers
who haven’t made a mark in history.
Yet.
A generation of historians
who are making a mark in history.

We are.
A generation.

A generation of people
who will not be robotised.

A generation of humans
who will not lose our dignity.

But we,
this generation;
us

We are what we are.
We will be what we want.
We are a result of history
and we are the makers of our future.

But at present,
we are this generation.
And if you break us,
you will make us.

Us, this generation,
is made from the debris of our ancestors.

~Mikaela Gordan~