Healing

Everyone needs time to heal when they're broken; when they've fallen. Time to get back on their feet. In retrospect, I've realised that I never really gave myself time to heal when little failures knocked me down, and as a result I let feelings of low self worth, self digust, self pity and depression accumulate. But, a week off has given me time to breathe, to work out (and pig out) and to take a time out to escape from this hole I've been digging myself in.

And now I'm content.

Looking back, I dealt with the shortcomings of 2013 quite badly. The c I got in one chemistry paper made me feel worthless; hopeless. The 655 in my ukcat made me angry; I could've done better. Looking back, I never said: hey, it's okay. I've got AAABB overall. I achieved 6A*s and 8As at GCSE. This grade won't define me. It'll give me another reason to work harder, to fuel my fire.

Even with my ukcat score, in my disappointed state I failed to realise how lucky I was - one of my friends was not so fortunate. But, she was and still is the pure definition of strength. I would've broken in her situation, but she disregarded it and put her efforts into tomorrow rather than dwelling over yesterday. I hope that I can one day possess even a fraction of her strength.

The proximity of the new year has suddenly made me realise how lucky I am. I've realised that I have actually fulfilled my new year's resolution. For one, I applied to Medicine. I got predicted A*A*A and I sat the ominous UKCAT. I raised £120 for charity. I achieved a distinction in Grade 1 and 2 piano - and now I'm working towards Grade 4. I can play the ukulele. I have an interview. I did finally manage to get 5 weeks of work experience (and miraculously at a GP too!)

And I finally have some self worth; some self belief. A year ago, I never would've imagined being where I am now. And I know that there have definitely been lows, some that have taken time to recover from, but they have not blown me from my path; they've simply made me walk with more strength.

Mountains

I had a dream I was walking down a steep grassy hill, long green ribbons caressing my legs. I was with my sister, we followed those ahead of us; others followed behind us. The sharp decline of the hill forced my legs to start running. Finally we reached the bottom.

To my left, bold coal mountains stood greatly, framed by a pasty blue-grey morning sky. A clear lake rested at their feet; a mirror. Small waves slowly rolled towards the bay - it was a rippling plane of perfection. I walked across the grass to get closer to the edge, stopping when my next step would plunge me in the icy water. The alpine air was crisp.

I inhaled, before exhaling a puffy white cloud. Ignoring those who ran around in the tall grass.

Standing there, inches from falling into the depths of the lake, not a single thought ran through my mind.

I simply existed.

Encounters

Odd isn't it? I'm blogging about someone I haven't even had a conversation with.

I'm writing everything out so that I won't need to think about it. To rid my mind of clutter.

I hate it. Suddenly my eyes catch another pair. I see him, in the corner. Hair masking his face. Nobody surrounds him. My curiosity spikes. He disappears.

Walking towards a building, our paths cross on multiple ocassions. He's always looking ahead. I'm always glancing at his face, trying to understand why he's quiet and alone. I want to encircle my arms around him and hug him tightly. To tip toe before delicately kissing his stubble covered cheek.

Walking out of a practice room, I turn the corner only to step on someone's toes, running into a tall body. I apologise profusely, look up and see him. He's simply smiling, his eyes never meeting mine, and walks by. My friend accidentally opens the door in his face, apologising. He smiles, dismissing it as an accident. Another ocassion, leaving the music block, passing him. His headphones in. His eyes stare ahead.

I do not exist.

I have a music lesson. Leaving the room, my piano teacher begins to ramble, but my attention is caught by the strumming of guitars. He and two others; one singing. It's a wonderful sound. We part ways, but I long to turn around.

I'm practicing piano after school and suddenly hear the rhythmic beat of drums, a bass guitar and refrain. Singing. I stop playing. He's the undertone. The bluesy tune.

Our paths continue to cross. His hair is shorter. On two occasions I walk around a corner and look up, his eyes catch mine through the glass of the door before I turn to the stairs.

I knock on a lab door; I need to get my work in the room. There's a lesson. He's sitting on the back table, his hair framing his eyes. Looking in my direction. The teacher is in an in depth conversation. His eyes flit towards me, looking away when I look up. I give up waiting and walk into the room, leafing through the stack  of papers. My oversised jumper gives me comfort. Eyes on my back. I take what I need and leave.

I'm in a chemistry lab, at the edge of the room, measuring the conductivity of ester hydrolysis, stirring the mixture vigorously before looking up. Through the glass window, I see him walking by, his hands in his pockets toward the Art Block. Or leaving the tech block.

One recent morning, before class, my fingers itched to play the piano. I have a keyboard at home, but it's sound doesn't compare to that of a piano. Thus, I went to a practice room in the music block. There was only one empty room with a piano - people kept their guitars here for music lessons during the day. People knocked on the door and sheepishly placed their guitars while I played.

Comptine D'un Autre Été. That's what I was playing when I saw someone hovering outside the room in my periphery, through the rectangular pane in the door. They stood, and waited. I thought it was perhaps my piano teacher. I continued, but abruptly stopped when I glanced at the time: 8:30. And the person still waited.

I got up from the piano bench and began to collect my belongings when the door opened. It was him. Looking down. Carrying his guitar in. Saying nothing. I hurriedly placed my sheet music in my bag and turned to leave while he took time in settling his guitar. I left before a word was uttered.

My heart raced as I walked away. I find it difficult to play the piano in front of others - I feel oddly exposed. Raw. And he had been listening. I had stopped mid note. I had probably kept him waiting tiredly. Why did he wait while I played, but then walk in when I stopped? Polite? Would he have said something if i didn't flee?

Sigh.

The next time we pass, his eyes remain fixed ahead.

I am irrelevant.

In The Valley

I feel so low.

Everything is right and wrong. I work hard. I had fallen but get up. I push past the barriers, almost reach my goal, and then am dragged back to where I began.

I try to brush the gravel off my clothes and get up but suddenly someone shoves me back down. I stare incredulously at this person, but notice their eyes. Pitying. Sympathetic. They shake their head at me; walking away.

Confused yet undeterred, I rise. I begin to walk, gradually getting closer to my goal. Almost there, now only one hurdle. I turn to tell he who spoke of being realistic about my achievement - he who pitied me. He who doubted me. I smile, but it falls when he gives me the same look.

Pity. Doubt. Lack of hope.

Knocked back down again. He walks away. My hands sting; spots of blood appear where the pavement has bitten my palm. I take a moment to cleanse them. I stand up. Taking a step forward, I feel determined. But then someone appears when I least expect it, from the shadows. I forgot. I didn't keep track. They look me in the eye.

Knocked back down.

I blink back tears. Inhale, exhale. Tell myself to stop being so pathetic. Rapidly arise from my moment of weakness. I see a friend, she glances at me. My puffy eyes, my calloused hands. Then she looks right at someone next to her, and laughs. Before walking right by me.

I tell myself it's nothing. I tell myself I can do this. I stand up, anger coarsing through my veins. I go to a place I know

to find the door slammed in my face.

Now, on my knees. My energy long gone. Good news is not worthy of celebration, it merely helps me get by. Hands waved in front of my eyes, staring ahead. I do not waver. Lips pressed together, why should they open? After all, when I speak there is simply acknowledgement, dismissal. My words forgotten within an instant.

Why should I speak? I need only listen and see to get by. What relevance do my words offer to others? What relevance do I hold for others?

Nothing at all.

When Motivation Runs For The Hills

I'm sure we all encounter a point in life, when your goal seems within arms length, only to find yourself... feeling nothing. Nothing at all. The power and effort you've put to get there, and suddenly your motivation has vanished.

Poof. Gone.

You've climbed mountains (metaphorically of course), you've accomplished things you never dreamed you would. But now, here you are, puzzled as fuck about how you're going to get your ass out of your chair.

I find myself in the same scenario.

But guess what? I won't let this hopelessness consume my life. I won't let it dictate what I do.

I, a sleep deprived teenager, pledge to try again. I will aim for my goals, even if I have failed previously. Failure will not be an obstacle, it'll simply fuel my fire.

Whenever someone tells me that my chances of success are slim, I will simply smile at them, because I know that putting hard work in will pay off in the long run. The opinions of others will not deter me.

Whenever there are brief lapses in my optimism, I will look back at what I have achieved, or think of what I will achieve and strive onwards.

I may stand small at 4 "11. I may be overlooked as a child. I may be a naïve 17 year old, but I will not overlook my aspirations, nor those who matter to me in life. In the past I had bulimic tendencies and depressive thoughts. But they have come and gone; these periods of time have not broken me. I am simply stronger and wiser. I know how to avoid them.

I have made mistakes. I have my weaknesses. But I can only improve myself from these. And that is what I am going to do.

So I brace myself for what is to come. For the struggles, sweat and tears. For the emotional resilience that will be demanded of me.

I may fall, but I will not fail.

Le Onde

Shrugging off our clothes.
I tugged at your silk black tie.
Buttons scattered, a
Shirt suddenly wrenched open,

Your lips now on mine.