Lost On You

(These are old feel an old note… but it has to go somewhere right? Cos I don’t want anymore).

I’ve tried to tell you a thousand times.

What it feels like to wake up disappointed that you’ve woken up.

To hate the new Spring sunshine on your skin.

To watch your child laugh and feel it echo through your empty heart.

To see the smile on your lovers face and feel exactly nothing in response.

How it feels to already be dead inside and how it hurts to pretend.

What it’s like to keep on struggling because people need you, want you, beg you to stay. How that doesn’t feel like love, it feels like a life sentence.

I’ve talked to you until I’m blue in the face, and your resistance to what I’m saying just makes it harder to stay.

I’ve showed you my scars, begged you to see. You turn my arm over, pull my sleeves down and shutter your own eyes to my pain.

I don’t want to be here.

You made me promise to stay.

So here I am. You’ve moved on because everything is fine now.

I’m sinking in the dark, treading water while you work on the future.

I could show you all the things I’ve done, all the work I’ve put in. To be standing here next to you, while you get busy. You turn you head to your phone and I’m standing here alone.

I give when I can. I take what I need. I write it down and bleed it out. I’m losing more than winning these days. I’m half way gone already.

I never wanted to be this way. I didn’t get to chose. It kills me that the only thing I can feel in this black void is anger.

I’m screaming at the night sky, my head ripped back in a full throated roar. You think I’m just looking at the stars.

I could tell you all these things.

But you can’t feel what I feel.

And so my words

Are lost on you.

Are you tired of this modern world?

I deleted Facebook last night. I had music playing in bed we both loved, until hubby started watching video snippets in his news feed. I turned my music up so he put his headphones on.

Husband beside me, turned away watching video’s while I drifted and remembered days where we would hold hands and whisper into the night.

I deleted the app, felt immediately lightened by relief and danced to the toilet. Then slept like a log. To be fair husband gave me the best cuddles as the fan droned and the night swam.

This morning I slept in. I reached for my phone and turn the alarm off. Stretching gleefully I had no notifications to check. No scrolling that’s supposed to last a minute as an hour creeps by.

I went and picked up something from a craft shop. Sat and finished The Haunting of Hill House while I cross stitched a Christmas present. Then I sewed my dress for a friend’s wedding tomorrow, worked through a pile of hemming.

Returned to the couch and finished an assignment for Uni, then made pork schnitzels for family dinner.

I am not a productive person. As an introvert I need to recuperate on my days at home. Mostly I crochet, read and nap to true crime podcasts. The most surprising thing when I quit smoking was all the extra time I had. Without Facebook I had more than an extra hour or so, I had a whole day. I didn’t even miss the meme’s.

To be perfectly transparent I kept Messenger. I have very important people I chat with daily in there. I have a Uni chat where we mull over essays and keep each other up to date. International friends who are so dear to my heart I couldn’t bear them to be out of reach. I learned from my last break from Facebook (which lasted a whole lonely day) what I need to be happy and stay in touch. Depression creeps in when I’m isolated and fills up all the spaces.

So now I turn my attention to finishing my assignments for the year, whilst getting my daily word count in for NaNoWriMo (National Novel Writing Month). 50,000 word draft of a novel plus assignments while stitching a Christmas present? No worries.

As always, do whatever it is that makes your days better. As my water bottle declares: Whatever Makes You Happy – just do that.

So I shall chase happiness and encourage you to do the same. Because life is so damn short. Just look at the lines upon your parents face, or the ones upon your own. Is there grey hair in your dog’s beard and have those kids shot up since last you noticed? Fast. Like a one step march through history. Remembered by some, until time catches up with them too. So fuck being remembered. Just be happy. In the long run no one even minds. They’ll watch you waltz delighted through your days and probably join in.

Be you, be happy.

Stay weird peeps.

Love Bon.