Month: October 2016

I’m a sucker for a love poem. Which is strange, because I’ve never really been a sucker for love. I loooooovveeeeee Love poems. Up until 30 seconds ago, I was lying in bed thinking about why I love them so much. I’d never thought about it properly before. Blog inspiration, grab the laptop, GO.

I’ve always loved love poetry. There’s something about the feeling it gives me. Even before I’d really experienced ” falling in love” myself, there was something about the way the words were woven so… So… Right? My favourite love poems aren’t the ones with the most flowery language, the most similes, the most metaphors, the ones that’re so conceptual that you need to watch them twice over just to get a basic understanding, no. My favourite are the most simple. The most direct. Words are amazing. But you don’t need to use amazing words to make amazing imagery, amazing stories. A friend of mine introduced me to 6 word stories. What’s the most visual story you can tell in only 6 words. “For sale: Baby shoes, never worn.”-Hemingway. The first time he told me that it blew my mind. I feel the same way about poetry. Though I do love complicated, multifaceted work. My favourites are the ones that I listen to and think, “Wow. I know all of those words, I connect with all of those thoughts. I could’ve (theoretically) written that.” Maybe the most remarkable thing though, is that someone with a vastly different life to mine. Someone with different experiences, a different background, a different culture even; is able to write something with I connect with immediately. Without any hesitation. That his or her words, pierce my soul immediately. They can take me into a place in my psyche that I’ve never consciously even visited. I find that truly amazing.

I guess, it’s the only type of poetry that takes me to that kind of a place. Actually that’s a lie. There is a lot of thought/feeling provoking poetry out there. But, love poetry is definitely the type I connect with most often. Maybe I go out of my way to find it, I don’t know. There’s a part of me that wants these feelings, that has had similar feelings. But I don’t think that’s why I like love poetry. I don’t think it particularly has anything to do with the Love aspect of it. But it does have everything to do with feeling. Feeling something, feeling anything.

I think back to the times I’ve felt my worst. The dark times, the dark places I’ve been mentally. It hasn’t been when I’ve been extremely sad, or extremely angry. My darkest times have been the times where I felt nothing at all. The times my life lacked meaning. The times I lacked any kind of direction. The times I felt like I had nowhere to turn. The times I felt empty. I think back to those times, and I never ever want to go back there. I never want to be back in Winter 2014, staring for hours on end at the inside of my bedroom. Not doing anything, not thinking anything. Just sitting. Staring. Still. Empty. Just going through the motions. Living without really being alive. Going to work everyday, and not hating it, not enjoying it, just being there. Standing, cleaning, serving. I was there, but mentally I may as well have been in another galaxy. I think back to how alone I felt. It’s a strange feeling. To feel alone when you’re surrounded by people. It’s inexplicable. To an extent I feel that creeping back into my life. It scares the shit out of me to be honest.

I’d rather feel anything, anything at all, than empty.

Flynn. x

Have an introspective poem. One day I’ll get around to writing one… I hope.

I’ve written 3 posts in the last week, 1 I posted, 1 I trashed, and the novel-length rambling I wrote at 3am this morning that will never see the light of day. This one I hope will be different.

I think it’s important to finish what you started. It’s a battle I have with this blog all of the time, there are 10+ blog posts in my drafts. All at various stages of completion. Some are finished. They’re just not relevant anymore, so to post them would be pointless. Some of them are crying out to be finished, whether they’re good or not is a different story.

At this moment in my life, I have a lot of loose ends. A lot of things that’re just lingering over me. Things that are not really over, but not really ongoing. Just, there. Relationships (I use this term incredibly loosely) that exist, but serve no real purpose for either party. Relationships that’ve ended, but still take up space in my day to day thoughts.

I have questions that I would like answering. Questions that really, have no bearing on the current situation. But questions I would like answering nonetheless. How are you doing? Do you still think about me? Did you even care? Why did you treat me the way you did? Why do you treat me the way you do? I understand that if I wanted to, I could ask these questions. But for what? What do I gain from asking it? Closure? I don’t think so. Closure is a strange phenomenon. The idea that you need to know everything, to somehow feel better. How? What difference does it make. It changes nothing. If I get the answers I expect, or vice verse, do I even believe it? I can’t say that I know I will believe them. I already have the all the answers I need, they’re buried in my gut. My eyes will be tricked by misdirection, my heart doesn’t take the facts into account, but that feeling. That feeling that is set into the lining of my stomach, that’s real. If it feels off, then it is. Nobody can  tell you differently.

Words are thrown about so.. So.. whimsically, so effortlessly. Lying to someone else isn’t difficult. Unfortunately it’s incredibly easy. Unfortunately, people do it everyday. You do it everyday, I do it everyday. About things they perceive not to be important. One mans trash is another mans treasure and all that. Your throw away comments are the words I pick out of the recycling and piece back together, hoping to find something meaningful. Hoping to find that you meant something, anything, that you said.

Never before have I been more certain that actions speak louder than words. Never. This year, a lot people have said a lot of things that I attached meaning onto. Maybe I’m to blame for that. Only to find out there words, feelings, and actions said very, very, different things. Your words say you miss me, your feelings say you’re a little bored, lonely perhaps, your actions say you couldn’t care less. Yet here I am. Thinking about you. Saying closure is a myth, when I clearly would like some. Lately, someone important to me taught me something. I feel like I already knew it, but they brought it back to the forefront of my mind. In any situation(But particularly a bad one), you have 2 choices, to be ok with it, or to not be ok with it. To accept it and move on, or to not. There is no, changing people. No changing their decisions. Accept their choices, deal with it, and move on.

If I’ve learnt anything this last year, amidst a few “relationships (Again, I use this loosely)” it’s that I need to feel like I matter. But one of the things I hate most about myself, is even when I’m overwhelmed with the sense that I don’t matter I’m still there. I’m still trying to be there for the other person. I’m still putting myself in their position, still trying to hold on. Let go, Flynn. I guess the toughest thing about having a relationship end, or watching one dwindle to a close. Is that feeling, the feeling that you don’t matter. That you never really mattered. That you were just a passenger they took along for the ride. The feeling that you can go from being a part of someones every waking minute to merely a passer by. A part of their life if, and only when, it’s convenient for them.

Life hurts sometimes, but sometimes it’s equally brilliant. Sometimes those things coincide with one another.

Have my favourite poem in the world, ironically also about hurt.

Flynn. x