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.

Night

Once dawn has fallen, the night crawls back. It creeps upon you slowly; gradually the scene dulls.

Then enveloped in sharp black before you realise.

Sometimes the night sky holds promises of glinting stars - messages from distant galaxies. Signs of chaos and fire and fusion. Letting you know that things continue elsewhere, even if everything in your life has come to a standstill.

Starless nights imply one thing only.

When I feel

The warmth of your body,
There is nobody,
That I'd rather hold.

Shattered and cold.

The Art of Overthinking

I ponder frequently. Scenarios particularly; some possessing a greater probability of occuring than others. But regardless, I cannot help but psychoanalyse every thought that is more probable than improbable. Having social anxiety doesn't really improve my situation.

I'll be going about my normal routine, when suddenly I bump into someone - a family friend. They're a lovely person, yet I have no control over the tremour in my voice nor the suddenly hollow feeling of my eyes. I blink rapidly. My inward confusion about the rapid onset of these symptoms probably worsens my anxiety.

Essentially, I feel like my eyes are about to tear up - but I don't want to cry. I don't feel upset. My brain just decided to slam dunk this in my face. Sigh oh sigh.

I hate my over analysis of life - often when one overanalyses events, one tends to overlook the small yet undeniably important things.

Unspoken Words

I love days like these.

Sitting back against a white wall, lathered in the sun's buttery heat.
Eyes closed.
Lips parted.
Sometimes they quirk up into a smile, imagining that you kissed them while I remained unsuspecting.

The autumn leaves have fallen. Scatterings of ruby, amber and gold. With the season's change, I've noticed your eyes on me in my periphery. When I turned to look at you, you simply held my gaze.

You approached me. You laughed. You got closer. And closer.
The one I once admired from afar stood before me; you're smiling too.

But what exists in your dreams does not in reality.

Opportunity Cost

opportunity cost

noun

Economics

noun: opportunity cost; plural noun: opportunity costs

1. the loss of other alternatives when one alternative is chosen

I despise opportunity cost. The next best thing.

I may be utterly naïve, but I refuse to settle for anything less than my dreams. Period.

A Haphazardous Haiku

Here are a collection of words which may or may not be understood by you, the reader.


A Haphazardous Haiku

Sometimes I speak out,
Quietly pleading for help.
Getting no response.

Sometimes I wonder
Whether you hear me mumble...
Or simply wish not.


---

As Led Zeppelin say - "Communication Breakdown," - sans the guitar and vocals. I still retain my Britishness though.

C.S.

Sentimental

I'm not sure whether this would be classified as poetry; it's more so a collection of ideas. Thoughts. They're disjointed, alike the format - I thought they'd go hand in hand.

Sentimental.

I'd be lying if I said I wasn't,
But I am.

Watching you with them kills me.

Why are you making this harder for me?
Because every time I look up, your gaze meets mine.
I close my eyes; open them to see you're leaning in towards her.
You whisper something in her ear and she blushes.
I; the voyeur.

I disregard my thoughts and redirect my focus.
I straighten up and continue writing, pretending not to notice
How my pen presses harder into paper, or
How your eyes follow me.

For some time, I'm convinced you're forgotten.
Temporarily, I'm rid of the pathetic little girl
Who waits for you to approach me
When you're bored.

And I do forget.
And I notice another man's interest.
We speak. The man laughs and sneaks secret glances.
I think I don't mind. Slowly, I laugh too.
The man puts his hand on my arm whilst I-

"Hey, are you busy?"

I don't need to turn around to know who it is.

Reponding, I still can't stop
The nine year old smile
That forms on my face.

And now you smile too.

My jaw clenches; my fists curl.
My anger soars, indignantly.
I shove at the little girl within; she is not welcome.
I press a pillow into her face and she screams.
I tie her to a tree, ignoring her pleas.
I cuff her hands, swallowing the key.
Yet nothing changes.

Why do you do this?

Because every time you turn away, you break my skin with your blade.
Because every time you return with a smile, you wrench it out; the wound unhealed.

Stop.

Stop plaguing my thoughts. Stop infesting my mind
With your half true promises and
Your half hearted love.

Ha, Love. Sometimes I believe.
Other times I do not.

Catching my eye; you dare me to keep your stare.
Your mouth upturns; your face softens.
But then you whisper into her ear,
Kiss her cheek.
Your eyes never leaving mine.
I close mine; re-opening them now.

Forgotten.

Advocate.

I wanted you.
But your bloody red lips opened.

I needed you.
But your pseudo emotions leaked and
Your words became dust.
Smiles became crooked and I was trapped
In your spider's web.

And now; I.
The master at deciphering your lies.

But still, I need you.

So languid; oh love.
Why are you so?
Twisted; distorted.
You snatched my soul.

My eyes hollowed, my heart a corpse.
And yet you stab me with your bullshit

word

after

word.

And yet you degrade me with your lies, as if I'm the devil's advocate.
With every syllable that spirals from your lips.