new.

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There is one lesson that has been taught to me loud and clear this year. Just be yourself. And I don’t think I got it until now (well not now now, that’s a lie but recently). Every decision I made, everything I did was so tirelessly calculated although I made it seem otherwise. I opened my heart to few… very very few and sat alone in darkness wishing for freedom. And you know what, I could have just given that freedom to myself.

I made so many mistakes (it is actually quite ridiculous) mostly because I was so conscious about what people thought about my decisions. But. WHY? Why did I even care, my decisions are well my decisions. I’m human, and I’m a woman. Sometimes the latter makes the world more judgemental towards me, sometimes it makes me more judgemental towards me, and I’m just so tired of taking myself so freaking seriously. So, now that I have ranted… this is what I wrote for myself for this new year…

There is no use.

No use of telling myself I’m going to do things I’m not sure I’ll get around to doing. So instead, I open my arms to the universe and say… COME AT ME!

I call upon blessings, but I will not be distracted if challenges come with them, I welcome love and I am ready for heartache, I invite friendship and won’t become bitter from loss. I will live in my own truth and won’t let my spirit be disarmed by others. I will say yes and no at my own discretion, loudly and clearly.

I am grateful to be alive. I am grateful for my family. I am grateful that in such a cruel world I can still laugh with the wind and love fiercely. I am grateful that I am walking the path of my heart, and I call on God to show me his face. Every. Single. Day.

Happy new year. Happy new, naked, me.

 

Not.

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Not a rigid square

But an artistic collection of lines, and curves and whimsical swirls

Not an empty house

But a home filled with memories, and laughter and multi-coloured walls

Not a cloud

But a sky painted with galaxies, and constellations and a singing sun

Not a vessel

But a ship crafted from mystical mahogany and sanded by diamonds

Not ordinary

But an (extra) extraordinarily strange yet familiar amalgamation of chaos and calm

Not a woman

But an intricately detailed body, with a burning soul, lion skin and a heart guarded by God.

 

stranger.

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I look back at all our time together

and I can’t seem to remember

when it happened.

When you woke up and you weren’t you.

Maybe it was a sudden force of nature

that changed you instantly.

Maybe it was a slow transformation…

…or a consequence of holding on to your pain.

Or maybe it is my demons keeping me in a trance

that makes you appear as a complete stranger.

death.

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It comes quietly, like a shadow, and before you have a chance to try save whatever beautiful thing you built…the dark has already surrounded you. When death comes for love, saving it might do more damage than letting it go; what used to inspire, what used to ignite… it all slowly suffocates.

And during the war between deceit, and vanity and pride, love hides. Hides its face from the death you did not know you were letting in. It might hide itself in the corners of your heart no one dared to touch, or it may make a home deep within the eyes of another, waiting for you to find it again.

The ‘Death of Love’, such an arbitrary paradox, and yet it is not such a foreign concept. Take the Ash tree; it embodies this concept perfectly. In winter when death overwhelms it, it lets go of all the leaves it had loved so fiercely throughout the summer, knowing that the bareness of its empty branches will not last forever and when another summer comes, it will be loved again with the light and vibrancy of a thousand dancing leaves.

Even in heartbreak, and the extremely complex (and public) relationships our generation seems to immerse itself in, the death of love reminds us that we are human. That we are not the centre of the universe, that things aren’t always meant to last forever and if they did we would never grow or change or experience anything new.

In death there is life. And life comes just as quietly as death sometimes, in the stolen kisses, in the hidden smiles in the moments you catch yourself laughing when you thought you should be mourning. Some of us will have few true loves, and some of us will have many. Sorrow and Joy, death and life, indifference and love; all these and everything that falls in between them will have their time in our hearts. I am learning that the valley of the shadow of death is also the valley of the shadow of life and we are in a never ending cycle of metamorphosis… and love will always find you again, sometimes even in the same place you left it.

War.

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I have built so many walls around myself,

that not even I can see the way home.

I can’t see over the barricades, and barbed wire,

and those damn mine fields.

I stay wounding myself in a battlefield I created.

And only now I see

The war was never outside…

…it was right here within me.