Allsorts of Stuff

Poetry

Tortured Guessing

Have I felt this once before, confused, excited, happy and sad all at the same time, exaggerated by the necessity of my current situation, is it better or worse.

My eyes tired, my head wired, my body weak, all that dancing, lack of sleep or both rendering me incapable of focus, still able to feel, but not act.

Confused, was it the drink, the safety a known aquantaince, a willing partner in the dance, did I blindly blunder away from the moment, or did we slip past each other stealthily unaware we were aiming in the same direction.

I think back, over analyse, criticise myself, wind the tension around my head, strangling the heart just enough to wince, I am my own torturer, lack of confidence or mixed signals, colour me blue.

 

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No Answers /Tough Soldiers

Life is tough, but us mental soldiers carry on

Fighting demons, waging wars against an invisible foe on our own shores

Every night the line between defeat and victory gets thinner, never quite giving in

Racing thoughts, thinking the worst, dying of the thirst for happiness

We quest to find the cause, analyse the symptoms and ask all the questions

Never quite getting to the answers, just potential

A potential door that slams shut in our face

A potential respite, that unveils itself to be another lesson, another game

Longing for life to be simple

This is our battle, it might never be won, but we refuse to give in!


Emotional Refusal

Feel so lost, am consumed by rage.

No clue, who can give me answers to this pain.

Seeking love is no fun game

Unreciprocated or not enough its all the same

 

Keep trying to give it up

Focus on something else

But I’ve had enough

 

If shes out there, why isn’t she here

Surely if we belong, then we’d be together already

Sharing moments of joy, adventures a plenty

 

Then there is one who i mentioned already

Clearly important, maybe a little unhealthy

Can’t shake her, won’t leave her

But she’s not ready, or maybe never will be

Not for me

 

Cos I think as I try to avoid doing just that

I’m not quite good enough

 

 

 

thanks for reading, if you didn’t feel it, read it a little like eminem rapping.

 

Pixc


yeah, let it out

So once again, life beats him down, more emotionally than physically, not even hard, but he’s ill this time. she’s gone to sleep or ignoring him and everyone else because she needs the break, another is with other people, or another guy to be precise. He can’t help but think he’s missed the bus again, even though he’s probably overthinking and exaggerating, the only outlet he has is this blog, because everyone is mostly busy, when it hits, there isn’t anyone around, he’s also an awkward bastard, so when someone is around, it’s either not the right someone, or not the right time. He curses himself for being such a muppet, but deep down he feels, why does nobody answer?

He reads stuff about suicide, how people need to talk, reads stuff about depression and how people need to talk, reads stuff about self help, none of it matters, he can’t talk about what needs to be said, everyone is too offended, too upset or can’t just hear him out. Sounding a little like a spoilt brat sometimes he feels, is that it, then he remembers the advise, don’t ever change for anyone, be yourself. He sits here typing this to you, because nobody is listening, they all say they do, they all say hes not too much, how nice he is, how awesome he is, but there seems to be a line nobody will cross, it’s a line he would cross for almost anyone he knows, or he would have, but when you cross it for so many and nobody returns the favour, goes that extra mile, without being specifically asked to. I think he lost the bottle, lost the will to carry on chasing, carry on caring. Still one that he tries so hard to keep it going with. It’s so painful, but if anyone did cross that line for him, he knows it would be her, but just like everyone else when the awkward time hits, not here, not now, later.

Thanks for reading,

Pixc


Numb but drowning in Emotion

Life hits him hard in the face and the gut, maybe a small needle through the tiniest bit of his heart, just twisted slightly to make him wince. He stares at the statuses, looks at the empty chat reel, the lack of notifications, it feels like a metaphor for his empty house, his social life ever constantly there but with no substance, he chases and he tries but it feels like such a choir, is he a bore, is he not worth their time?

He busy himself with games and films, distracts himself with music diving deep into the needle hole he felt earlier, exploring the pain, distraction over, back to drowning in a sea of loneliness, even with her never wavering support, her guiding advice, always tinged with regret that it never quite happened, that it never seems like he has enough to make it happen, shes still there, but he still feels alone.

All the colleagues, friends, family, acquaintances who could be friends, everyone likes him, well almost everyone, he knows there are people who don’t want to know him, have already made up their minds, they don’t like him, some he probably pissed off, wronged or hurt, not that he wanted to, it’s just not in his remit, but he can’t take it back.

He tries to be positive, point out the good things in life, look at how lucky he is, but wait that is good but what about this, what about whats missing, while he marvels at what he has, he looks at what he hasn’t got, dwells on what he didn’t do, or should’ve done, he looks to what he should do but can’t, not what he can, because nobody can stay positive all the time, especially not in a sea of loneliness, numb and drowning in emotions.

 


Music leaving me breadcrumbs to find, is it game asking me to weather the never ending tide? Broken and bitter, biting my lips as tears fade, must I ask you now? Still I call unanswered, never rely on anyone my conscience says.

Escape to another world every opportunity, once I return still it stands unnerved, it doesn’t falter, not even flinch. Emotions of all kinds, to others a breeze, a ripple or a glow, to me a tidal wave, a hurricane and blaze.

No escape, no straps to pin me back, no seatbelt to save from this ride, this crash this flight as I leave the window of fantasy and smash into reality, no escape, not enough time, too many rules and nobody who plays by them.

 

 

I often find myself thinking little snippets of great word play, try to build on it like above, but sometimes it falls flat, I still wanted to share, someone told me I was in a dark place recently, I never felt I was, but usually when I am it helps to write, so maybe you’ll see more from me, in this dark place. Thanks for reading.

Pixc


Opportunity

Just secretly happy about something, walking through life with a spring in my step. Getting advice about what do next, I can only tie myself up in knots. An opportunity possibly, a disaster maybe, will I take it never, because I am to worried, too worried about if I’m reading this wrong, if what she says is true, if what he thinks is right, that I shouldn’t even be thinking about it, that I’m cheating on the woman I love who would advise against it but probably secretly be hoping I go for it and it works out, so I’m no longer in her life. I never asked for it to pan out this way, or did I? When I first met you saw the line, stood well back, all the while wondering, what if it wasn’t there, would it happen, could it work, now I know you and there isn’t the same desire, but a growing friendship, all the while seeing that line wobble, cracks appear, still standing back, secretly hoping but knowing that what must be, must be, trying not to get involved because it is none of my business, but wanting to know, just in case.

But I digress, that is but a fictional possibility because I am me, that opportunity never comes to me, that opportunity was given to him.