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Category Archives: Banzaï

Waiting Days

Some days are better days, some days are worse days. This has been going on for about a month now, it’s never been this long or this bad. But there are different days and not every day is necessarily bad; there can be better days, or good moments even during the bad days. I’ve cried but I’ve smiled and laughed too and that’s part of what makes this bearable. Some days are roller-coasters where I can be happy in one instant and devastated in the next. One thing people might not know though is that some days are just waiting days.

Some days you wake up and you know you’re not going to do anything, sometimes out of a lack of will or motivation, but also sometimes out of choice. Sometimes you just don’t know what to do so you just focus on staying quiet and calm even if that means lying in bed all day. Or you could want to give people a rest, you could be feeling like you’re bothering the world with this and you don’t want to bother… so you waste a day, because you feel like the world is better off without you. It could also be that you don’t or no longer know who to turn to, so instead of burdening or frightening someone you’d rather contain it so at least you’re the only person it hurts. Or at least you hope so, because you can never know how other people are feeling. For me I guess the reason is a bit of everything. So I just move around, usually with music or watching a series to distract me from the deeper thoughts because I’d rather not hear them right now.

It’s sad, I think, how feelings other than “like” or “don’t like” quickly become taboo. How people are afraid of love or depression. Those are things rarely talked about in real life, things kept hushed because strong feelings scare people away. We’ve come to a point where emotion is weakness. When my friends see me mentally unwell most of them just ignore me, are they embarrassed? Are they afraid I’ll drag them down where I am? Or are they just afraid I might break if they touched me? They must know that isolation is a bad thing for me if I’m depressed but they isolate me anyway. No-one prepares you for this: they don’t prepare you for depression and they don’t prepare you for handling people or friends who could be depressed. Maybe something could be done, at school maybe, to talk about feelings instead of making children suppress them. I don’t know.

I’ve thought about dying. And yeah I know that’s not something you’re supposed to say but it’s true. I’ve never completely wanted to die, because I know to some extent what that could do to certain people. So I’ll stay alive to protect them. And I keep telling myself that it’ll get better, it has to, I can’t live like this forever and besides it always gets better. I try to hold on to that hope as much as I can. And I’m trying to be less harsh on myself, the depression is doing more than enough about that. I haven’t tried dying, and I’m hesitant to add “yet” at the end of that phrase, I can’t know what will happen, I can only hope I’ll stay strong enough for it to never happen. I don’t want to die. But sometimes it can be hard to want to live too. It tears me apart, mainly at night, it reminds me of all the times I’ve been rejected, all the bad things said about me, how people must feel about me, all the mistakes I’ve made and I feel like the world would be better off without me and it hurts. It hurts so much. I try to fight it, find counter-examples, but mostly I just try to make it stop because at the time I know that I can’t find enough examples to win. And then I think of what would happen if I died, and I see it happening to the people I love, the tearing apart, and I think “I can endure this for them”, because I don’t want them to feel this pain, ever.

People can be quick to tell you what’s wrong, to tell you off for some mistake you made or yell at you because they misunderstood your actions, people are better at accusing and blaming and insulting than telling others they love them. So it can be hard, when no-one tells you they love you and you have all these voices in your head, and outside of it, telling you what’s wrong with you. People take love for granted, but sometimes we need to hear that we are loved. If someone told me that, I might feel a little better, it could help fight all the bad things. But no-one tells me, because those who love me just take it for granted, they figure I don’t need reminding, but I can feel myself slipping and I’m desperately trying to hold on to anything, and everyone seems to be pulling away. If I just let go now, who would catch me in my fall?

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Posted by on 17 February 2017 in Banzaï

 

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Dancing With The Devil

I felt funny. I guess I was just the right amount of drunk to be able to dance without overthinking my movements. I looked around the place where we were dancing; it wasn’t a castle nor a cave but a comfortable thing in between the two. My eyes darted around. Dancing this close with someone wasn’t something I’d done often before and I wasn’t very comfortable with it, so I distracted myself by looking around.

“Why won’t you look at me?”

He sounded a little hurt. It wasn’t particularly against him, I avoid eye contact with just about everyone I can avoid it with. I know it makes people uneasy, I’ve often been told to stop staring. My eyes are awake and always staring without any kind of veil in front of them, they don’t hide anything and they seldom miss a thing.

I shrugged the dreaded question away and made a very conscious effort to look him in the eyes. I made a point to stop looking towards the person I’d rather be with, I supposed this guy wasn’t too bad. I tried to shake the uneasy feeling I had about him, I was probably just overreacting, he was my friend right?

He held my stare while we danced and I realised he had a similar look. The song lasted a too long forever, but at least I was comfortably staring the devil in the eye. Unknowingly.

I don’t regret dancing with him. I regret some of the other things.

 
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Posted by on 17 November 2016 in Banzaï

 

Passing Moments

She used to draw and paint and her desk had… suffered. It was Tina’s desk. She’d spent a lot of time there, it was her way of escaping when the thoughts were too much. She could stay hours, the worthy art went on the walls.

Since we started living together I learned a lot about my best friend. Thinking she was always happy I discovered that she could also be incredibly sad, and it would just happen. When she wasn’t alone it wasn’t so bad but she didn’t like to bother people. She’d downgrade herself and it was hard for her to believe anyone liked her, making it harder to call for help. There were times when I’d come home to find her curled up in bed trembling and it broke my heart. I’d hold her tight and tell her I loved her, and it was true. I loved her completely platonically but I loved her more than anything. And I knew she loved me too.
One night she took my hand and had that wild look she got sometimes, saying “Let’s escape”. Last time we’d taken a late train away from Paris, and spent the night watching the stars. Space was something that fascinated us both. This look wasn’t playful though, she was hurt. Nightly excursions weren’t new, her favourite place to go was St. Michel. Sometimes we’d go wandering the cobbled streets with the souvenirs, crêpes, musicians; this time we sat along the Seine. She looked at me hesitantly, then kissed me on the lips, which was an odd thing for her to do in this state. The wild look dissipated as she leaned into the wall. “I love you. Never forget that.” She’d said. I knew what she’d meant but I was afraid of why she was saying it. She started shaking. “What’s wrong with me?” I held her and told her it was ok, that I was there for her. “Everyone else is gone” She whispered. I told her it wasn’t her fault, I knew she knew it, but it still hurt. “No-one’ll ever love me.”
“That’s not true,” I told her “I love you, and the others still love you.” I cited the short list of names of the people who were closest to her. “And I’m sure one day you’ll find the right person and you’ll both fall in love.”
I didn’t know if it was helping. I knew she was torturing herself and she knew it was hurting me. I didn’t mind, even the best people have bad moments. “I don’t deserve you.” She’d regretted that as soon as she’d said it. I shook her and looked her in the eye, “You deserve better than me Tina, but you at least deserve me. You have to know that.” She let herself be pulled back into my arms and kept saying “I’m sorry.” She was sorry for having said that, she was sorry about how she felt, she was sorry to be such a bother. I held her until she calmed down.
The following day we argued a lot, she wanted to get help so I told her to see a psychologist, she wanted to be locked up where she could stop hurting people until she got better. I was afraid that would just make it worse and I said I’d rather she be home than there alone.
When she left I was mainly angry at myself for not having been able to do more. I missed her and it hurt to know her there, she needed to be near her friends, I was scared for her. I looked through her desk drawers wondering what I’d missed. There was a sketch of one person being held protectively against another. It wasn’t much more than shapes but there was a message:
“If you ever read this I want you to know that you’re the biggest reason I haven’t gone mad. I just wanted to say thank you. But you probably won’t see this. I just wanted you to know.”
I put it away gently, not wanting it to get wet from my tears. I didn’t know what to do. I guess I finally felt some of the sadness she’d felt. I lay on the bed for ages. Maybe I’d gotten too attached to her, but I wasn’t apologising for that.
Tina’s desk is gone now. I wasn’t in love, but I did love her and I hope she’s okay.
Je t’aime, l’oublies pas…

…………………………………………….heyimbackdidyoumissme?……………………………………………………………………………………….

Hey so it’s been a while since I’ve posted anything or even been on wordpress but seeing as I’m supposed to have a little more time now I’m doing my internship I wanted to get back into this. I messed this up so it’s late so I don’t think many people will see this… I’ll try harder next week.

When I first wrote this it had twice as many words, unfortunately I’m only allowed 750 T_T so this may seem a little short, I don’t know.

Writing is a game I suppose, the art of hiding things in plain sight… what part of that was true? What of it was me? Maybe some of you have an idea of who I am… but can you ever really know? (Is this a trick question meaning this post was completely fiction?)

Nate I was shocked to realise that although I’m an IT student I still don’t know exactly how the internet works but I will get back to you on that 😉

 
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Posted by on 25 August 2016 in Banzaï, Speakeasy

 

I live in my head

Sometimes I want to jump off a building
To see if I could fly,
Sometimes I want to run into a wall
To see which of us breaks first,
Sometimes I want to stab myself
To see if I still bleed,
Sometimes I want to stop feeling
To make it the thinking stop.

Sometimes I want to run away
Just to see how far I’d go,
Sometimes I want to lock myself out
And throw away the key,
Explore underground tunnels
Walking on train tracks,
Walk barefoot on the streets,
Stand in a t-shirt under a storm
And scream out loud
Until it all
Stops.

Make it stop.
All the voices in my head.
They’re too loud.
They ask the same questions over and over
And I don’t have the answers.
Make them leave me alone.

The people who could push the voices away
They’re not here right now.
So I’ll put my headphones on to drown out the noise.
And as long as there’s music
I’ll be ok
As long as they leave me alone

 
But you’re never completely alone…

 
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Posted by on 27 May 2016 in Banzaï

 

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Sadly Blue

I was hurt. I couldn’t not be, I kept thinking of the way she’d stared at me terrified before running away. I hadn’t thought she would run from me. I never thought she could look so afraid of me.

I stared at the half empty bottle of vodka, blue from the smurfs that had been put in it for a small party a few days ago. I almost considered swapping it with the small Nutella pot in my hands.

“So that’s how it starts” I thought. I was always understanding new things about people, whether it be a general “people” or one person in particular. But whenever it mattered most I was left clueless about what to do and it was so frustrating.

And I had no reason to feel bad, it was just a mix of empathy and hurt. I shouldn’t have been the one that was hurt and I hated myself for feeling that way, but without speaking she had made me turn around and cry. Hurting her was the last thing I ever wanted to do, and yet it’s what I did. Without meaning it I had hurt the person who meant the most to me. And I had no right to be hurt.

The blobby smurf remains were beckoning… “Don’t you want to know how blue we taste?” They said. As for the rest… I can’t remember.

 
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Posted by on 25 April 2016 in Banzaï

 

The Things that Happen in Caves

Part 13 of Epic Co-written Story

“Welcome, to my humble abode.”

Each word was weighed and took its own space, each buying a little more time for the elf with the sharp eyes to look around and analyse every detail he could. Lifting his goggles cautiously and assuming a discretely defensive stance, his actions contradicted his words. Angel thought that they might not be as welcome as his words suggested. This was confirmed when she saw the telltale glow of magic around his fingertips, it was almost imperceptible but before she could react to it Marissa stepped forward

“Who are you?” She demanded.

He redirected his piercing stare towards her, at the way she stood, the way she looked at him, the way she spoke and the way she was dressed. It didn’t take him long to answer.

“I’m going to call you Princess.” He declared with a spark of sarcasm, or was it playfulness? Likely a bit of both. A smile tugged at his lips when he saw Angel about to speak. He didn’t give her the chance.

“And I’ll call you Queen.” He continued in a mockingly respectful tone. “And to continue the family you,” he was now looking at Arthur, “can be Prince.”

He looked quite satisfied with himself and no-one knew how to react.

So he went on: “But you’re no king,” was directed towards the blacksmith. Then he paused before turning to the last member of the party. “And you’re an orphan.” He finished more seriously, and more respectfully than for any of the others.

Everyone was shocked, the being in front of them had just discovered things about them that he should never have been able to know just by looking at them. Or so they thought, because you can find those things if you know how to look, and having an elf’s sensibility Sasha had even more reason to know how to look.

It was Harry’s turn to step forward, “so you’ve told us who we are but we still don’t know about you.” The veteran pile of muscle was imposing even without his armour. He still had his huge axe on his shoulder and daring as Sasha was he couldn’t help but take a small step back. He quickly won back the lost territory and said simply “I’m Sasha”. It was all they needed to know.

• • •

They were in a cave, a small fire was dying in the centre. Sasha had taken them through tunnels under the mountains and they were now behind enemy lines, he’d decided to come with them at least until they were past the mountains. They were hiding in a cave, sitting around a dying fire. Sasha was outside on lookout, Marissa was staring deep into the fire, Nikke was staring through the fire at Marissa. Her childhood friend had grown into a beautiful young woman even with the frown clouding her face at the moment. She wondered what else had changed and what had stayed the same. She felt fiercely protective of her old friend who knew nothing about the outside world and very little even about life outside the castle walls. Angel came to sit near her. “You love her?”

Nikke was so taken aback by the question that she didn’t know what to say, she just stared at the woman, horrified.

“I see the way you look at her, when you think no-one can see you. You should talk to her about it, or you’ll never know if she feels the same.”

Arthur had just come back from some training with Harry. Everything hurt. He was concentrating on not moving and he was looking at the girls around the fire, it was like they were in their own world and he wasn’t invited. They intimidated him, and Angel of course but that was normal, she intimidated everyone. There was something about Nikke and Em, like a secret world they shared and the world revolved around them at times without them even knowing it. And the way the looked at him disarmed him completely, he had always been used to being ignored, eventually glanced at, told stories at most. The men at the tavern never thought twice about him, he was the guy at the bar. When Em looked at him she looked hard, watching every detail with scrutiny, trying to find out who he was. And Nikke was even worse because her curiosity didn’t stop there; when Nikke looked at him it was as if she were drawing him on a blank sheet, discovering bit by bit and he had no control over what she saw. She wanted to know about his family, his ambitions and dreams, how stupid he looked when he fought or how close she could get before he noticed her in front of him (close enough to hug as she said but then she’d have a funny look and he knew she wasn’t thinking about how easily people could hug him). She was friendly most of the time, but she was also concerned and sometimes she’d be incomprehensibly distant.

Nikke was troubled. She had no idea what she felt. She was troubled by Angel’s words, yes she loved her friend, as much as you can love a friend, but that didn’t seem to be what she was saying. She had suspected that maybe she was different, a freak of nature because boys only love girls and girls only love boys and that was the way life was. She never thought anyone could even suggest anything different, yet that’s what Angel had just done, and because of that she had to reconsider everything from the beginning. There was great turmoil in her spirit but she let none of it show. She only stared intensely into the fire until it slowly died and became glowing embers.

………………………………………………………………………………..

The plot thickens… sorry for making this harder and harder for you DragonSpark it was just too tempting, you always find something to do with the tricky situations I give you… so now I’m stepping this up a notch and I’m impatient to see what you have in store for me 😉

I’m sure you’ll find me another impossible situation :p

 
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Posted by on 18 April 2016 in Banzaï, Epic Co-written Story

 

March Snow

March snow
Is like and intangible soft coldness
Coming from the white sky
That’s falling apart
In a million white pieces.
Each snowflake is a small cold you can barely feel,
A small happiness
Of childhood memories and you tell everyone
“It’s snowing!”
It’s snowing
In March.

March snow
Is the unexpected happiness
Of finding something you thought you’d lost
And the bittersweet hope
That it stays, just for a while
So that Paris can be white,
Innocent just for a day
All troubles
Wiped away
It’s snowing
In Paris
In March.

You are like March snow.
A beautiful happiness
With a tiny coldness,
The bittersweet hope.
And I hope
You never
Go.

It’s snowing
In March,
March snow.

 
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Posted by on 9 March 2016 in Banzaï

 

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