Spencer

Spencer was new to school and hadn’t quite decided who to be. Having the benefit of a unisex name meant that Spencer had also chosen not to identify as ‘he’ nor ‘she’ but ‘it’ or ‘Spence’.

On the first day, Spence dressed in such a manner that its gender could not be identified at first glance. Short-ish hair but not entirely, hoody, jeans, sneakers, and body language that simply confused everyone.

Spence didn’t like being told who to be nor was It capable of mimicking what has already been done, so instead of trying to emulate the behavior of those around, It decided to merely experience people. This strategy was much more relaxing than trying to ‘keep up with appearances’, because all Spence had to do was either sit back and listen to what people seemed inspired by or initiate conversation and be aware of what emotions were evoked throughout the duration.

The first day was fun for Spence. Some of the classmates whispered to each other, “Is that a boy or girl? So weird…” This made Spence feel a little amused but also disappointed knowing that befriending this sector of the class would just cause misery throughout the term. Spence smirked a little and tuned-in to the group on the other side of the room.

“Dude you can’t say shit like that! I think the new kid is kinda awesome,” said one of the more charismatic figures in the class. Spence listened more, and heard another classmate say in a mocking tone, “Go say hi then!” To Spence’s surprise, the new friend actually walked over and said “Hi, I’m Evon. When an O.”

Spence liked this person’s energy—confident but not overpowering. “Oh!” bantered Spence, “As in O-V-A-N?”

Evon caught on quickly and chuckled. “Not ‘oven’. Evon. E-V-O-N.”

“I’m Spence. Like pence with an S,” Spence played along with the vibe.

“Ha!” Evon turned around and called out to the group, “This is Spence! Toldja the new kid is awesome!” The group walked over to meet Spence and introduced themselves.

The judgmental group from the first side of the classroom rolled their eyes and went back to mainstream mediocrity, gossiping about which teachers might end up dating each other or which Netflix characters should ‘soooo not be together’ (which could be heard from the hallway).

Evon’s group didn’t seem bothered by this, and frankly neither was Spence; what was noticeable though, was that the more Evon seemed to ignore them, the louder and more uncomfortable they seemed to become. Their eyes rolled more aggressively and their voices became more audible to the point where full conversations could be heard outside the classroom.

Spence turned back to Evon and the newly-made friends, grateful that this new school wasn’t entirely hopeless. Still, for a split second, Spence did feel bad for the conforming haters on the other side.

Everyone knew those were the kids who’d either die alone or become so miserable with insecurity that eventually they’d be intolerable.

Everyone knew.

Everyone, except themselves.

 

MG

Space

Space,
as in the place
in our universe
where the planets
are placed?

Space,
as in the pauses
between sentences
where the spaces
are placed?

Space,
as in the boxes
of rooms we pay for
where the economy
defines our place?

Space,
as in the metaphorical oxygen
you need in order to breathe
because you’ve been suffocated by
a partner who doesn’t
know her place?

Space,
as in the physical reflection
of a human ego,
the amount one needs
so that they can grow?

Space,
as in conceptual nothingness
to remind you of everything
you now realise is meaningless
all because you wanted this thing…

…called space?

Space.

 

MG

 

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)

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Time

To you,

I write this because I can articulate with my hands better than the occasional eloquence that springs from these lips of mine.

Alas, I shall get straight to what I want to say.

You.

You entered my life unexpectedly, into my (unbeknown to me) open doors. That spark, that chemistry, that depth felt in an instant.

I knew.

But I thought that perception was jaded and one-sided.

So time went by as the seconds passed, the globe spun circles around the sun, and the calendar slowly lost its weight as the pages gently dropped.

Time, that strange essence combining both everything and nothing, a unity of dissonance and resonance. Distance and resistance.

Time, a best friend and a worst enemy. ‘Tis time that mends, but also breaks. ‘Tis time that yearns, but also contains.

Time.

Much like snowflakes in the middle of summer, or the ray of sunshine on a cold winters’ day; a rarity, a phenomena.

Time was all that was needed. My love, haven’t you heard? Time is infinite… you have it yet you don’t… because, my love…time does not exist.

All that matter-ializes within time is reality, when dreams and reality meet, and all that was once mundane suddenly encompasses new sensations.

That, m’dear, that is the beauty of it all.

You.

MG

Obsession

“The person who wrote this
Permitted me to post it
But only on the premise
That I keep the name anonymous”

Letter To A Lover

I’m writing this knowing that you probably won’t read it, and even if you did, you sure as hell won’t bring it up, so win-win for me. I get it out the system whilst helping you to avoid the responsibility of feeling like you have to care. It puts the choice in your hands, and I’d understand either way.

Obsession.

I’m like an addiction to you, a fascination, this idea of a person as if I’m from a novel or movie. Thank you, by the way, it is highly flattering.

Why am I writing to you about it? Because, darling, I can relate. I know how much it means to you that people can relate to how you’re feeling, and so here’s me, telling you openly that I completely understand your obsession.

I was obsessed with myself, too, once upon a time. Unsurprisingly, as well. You’ve felt it, you know why. Imagine actually being in my shoes where running is not an option. Where being surrounded and encompassed by my own presence time and time again is pretty much my reality.

Yes, I have people in my life who know me.

And I have you.

Well, I know you.

I don’t have you.

I’m not great with possession: I enjoy you, I appreciate you, but I don’t base the foundations of my life on you, darling. Romance should be an experience, an entertainment.

My greatest fear with romance is that I become anything more than a desire. I like the wanting, the longing, the obsessing. I could commit if I wanted to, my dear, to friends and to family. But romance, darling, romance is dessert.

And dessert is great in doses.

I, too, am apparently great in doses. This, I’ve come to accept as truth, with the amount of addicts who’ve overdosed on me and instead of healing, ended up poisoned. That’s not entirely my fault, either…a bottle of medicine doesn’t generally sprout legs and walk; it is picked up and consumed.

So my darling, I do understand your obsession.

Being with me is bordering obsessive. If you want me, and not merely the idea of me, then we’re just going to have to be okay with that, won’t we?

Signed with love,
Z.

The End Is Only The Beginning

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.)

Lost Love

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