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Category Archives: lost things

Moving Still

You can’t understand how hard it is
To move
Without trembling…

You can’t hear me
Screaming inside
As I say
“I’m fine…”
“Just tired.”

You can’t see exactly how much
It tears me apart
When I smile for you.

You can’t feel what I feel,
How much it hurts
Just to breathe…
And to contain
All the thoughts,
Fear,
Anger,
Self-loathing,
Loneliness,
Self-loathing,
Self-loathing…
Spinning out of control
Self-loathing,
Self-loathing…

I know it’s my fault,
I won’t hold anything against you,
But my heart’s in pieces,
And I just want to stop.
I want it all to stop.
I keep screwing things up,
For me and everyone else.
It’d be better if I just
Let
Go.

I don’t deserve to live,
No matter how much good I may have done
The bad always seems to overshadow it.
I don’t deserve to die,
I would just be causing people pain.
I’d rather keep that pain to myself.
I’ll only,
Very slowly,
Disappear…

And maybe it’ll be enough…
To stop hurting people…
And maybe one day it’ll stop hurting me

 
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Posted by on 13 January 2017 in lost things

 

Angels & Demons

My angel and my demon
Live side by side,
It’s not very stable,
But it’ll suffice.

My angel and demon
Aren’t balanced or fixed,
They waver and wander,
And move quite a bit.

My angel and demon
Are quite close when you think
One and the other
Are white silk and black ink.

My angel and demon
When one wanders too far
No, I don’t like that
I won’t think about it
Come back
Wait
No

Don’t

 
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Me

 
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Posted by on 11 December 2016 in lost things

 

Boygirl

“Does she even know how to be a girl?” A female voice despaired.

“I don’t know… How did you do it?” Replied the man.

“Well I did it to impress boys because I knew that I’d never get married if I didn’t set a good impression… do you think she understands that?” Asked my mother.

To which my father replied, “I don’t know… I think she might, I mean it’s hard not to… I’m afraid she might just not care.”

“But how on earth does she think she’ll find a good husband like that?!”…

I stopped listening to my parents. My dad was right, I didn’t care. I looked at myself, my jeans had once been too long and were now scuffed and torn around my ankles, it had taken a while and I could finally walk around without stepping on them. I was wearing a red loose-fitting unisex T-shirt with a dragon on it, because who doesn’t like dragons? On my feet were my converses, I always had converses and these ones were a nice sea-turquoise, I’d had many colours: purple, green-turquoise, yellow and black leather ones (for when it rained). Converses were known for their bright colours so getting bland ones defeated the point.

I wasn’t about to start dressing all nice and girly waiting for a prince to sweep me off my feet. I wasn’t sure I even wanted a guy. I figured one day I’d meet someone and I might fall in love and they’d like me for who I was, regardless of how boyish my clothes were, or how messy my hair was. Anyone else wouldn’t be worth my time. I figured ” how to be a girl” wasn’t universal, I knew what my mother meant by it and wholeheartedly rejected it. I wasn’t in any kind of hurry to spend the rest of my life with one person. I wanted to explore a little before I decided to settle with someone… if I ever decided to settle with anyone…

Maybe I’ll get married to a girl? I suppose time will tell.

 
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Posted by on 29 October 2016 in lost things

 

Dear Diary

I wish I could always be 18. That was the best year. It was the year of beginnings. It was the first year of studying something I’d chosen, the year I first drank beer and vodka, the year I met my best friend who I love with all my heart. The first year I skipped class, the first time I lived away from my parents and not on holiday, the first time I felt like I belonged in a place, the first time I got tipsy. First time having money, first time being broke. And I was just starting to find out slowly who I really was. When I realised that I’d never be this young and I did crazy things like cycle halfway through Paris with friends ending up watching the sunrise in front of the Eiffel Tower with no idea of how to get home, not feeling the cold. I wish I could spend my life being 18.

When I was 19 I finally understood that I had friends who I loved but, more importantly, that they loved me back. I had my highest moments surrounded by friends feeling safe and invincible. But I also had my lowest moments, because once you acknowledge that someone can love you, you can suddenly be afraid that they won’t. There was a little voice in my head that would surface telling me that I was bothering people, that they might be better off without me. As long as I had reason to believe otherwise I could ignore it however if I annoyed someone and they stormed off or if I was ignored for too long it got harder to fight that voice. It could bring me down as fast as in an afternoon. I’ve had times when I couldn’t get out of bed, barely keeping the depression at bay. I’ve spent nights crying. It’s driven me crazy some days. 19 was the year everything got a little more complicated. There was that. And there was the separation with my some of my best friends as they left for more or less time. One of them I’ve know longer, he was there when I had no-one else. We weren’t the best of friends, we were both awkward then, I think we still are in some ways, but we were friends. We’d both wanted to escape, he drew futuristic cities and I wrote stories about dragons. We both read and I liked to just sit next to him and read. But now we’re so far from each other, I don’t know how to reach him. He was my best friend once, and he’s still dear to me but I’m afraid that soon the thin string linking us together might break and I’ll lose him.

Then there was the other thing. I’ve thought a lot about the other thing and it still isn’t clear in my head. I can’t be sure of how I feel but I can take a pretty good guess. It makes everything so much more complicated. I can’t tell you about the other thing yet, because I still don’t know, I’m still confused. It’s one more thing to figure out and it’s been turning around in my head like a goldfish. It’s slowly taking shape but it can also move backwards. I have so many questions for myself. There are so many things I’ve yet to learn about myself. I’m not ready for 20 just yet. I have to figure that thing out before. At least.

 
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Posted by on 20 September 2016 in lost things

 

Tina’s Story

Since I was young I’d never had many friends, and I was never good at keeping them. Every time I got to a higher part of school people would tell me “It’ll be better this time” but that was never really true. Until university. I’d moved a lot growing up (which didn’t really help when it came to friends), by the time it came to uni I was in Paris, “the land of love” as some call it, well Paris was a lot of things but I didn’t know about love. It was definitely a fun place to be though.

Since I was 16 or 17 (I couldn’t pinpoint exactly when it started) I’ve been thinking a lot about the world, about feelings, about myself. I wanted to understand how it all worked… and how I worked. I was usually really happy and optimistic, I always saw the bright side of things but I’d realised, mainly during holidays, that sometimes I’d get sad. I wouldn’t really realise it at first until I went out and saw friends and I’d think “Shit I hadn’t noticed how sad I was before”. Sometimes it was just seeing something beautiful, like the sun reflecting a certain way on some leaves and then I’d feel happy again. Being with friends made it alright, and it could go as suddenly (or even more so) as it came. After having asked myself all of these questions I now have a good idea of how my mind works.

So I went to uni. This uni was a particularly messed up one but everyone was nice, we could empathise with each other because we were all in the same hellhole. That’s where I met her. Mia was normal and strong and kind and funny. I never found her, she found me, if it’d been up to me to go up to her I would’ve probably wasted a lot of time finding the courage to talk to her. As it happens it took no time at all to build a friendship. We got close faster than I’d ever gotten close to a friend before. Her arms were comfortable and when she hugged me it felt like nothing could hurt me, externally or internally. For some reason I felt safe, or at least safer, when I was with her. I felt stronger in her presence, I don’t know if she felt the same way. I hope so but I have no idea.

For our second year we decided to live together to be closer to school. We found a 2 room apartment. It wasn’t much but it was the best we found and the furniture was already there. Mia wasn’t sure about the double bed but I shrugged, “it’s not like anything could happen” I joked with a mischievous grin. She looked at me with her intrigued puzzled look, It was cute and I liked to tell her that because she’d get embarrassed and confused and it was hilarious.

She’d been trying to kiss me for a while, it was a game and I kept avoiding it which would explain her startled reaction when I kissed her for the first time. We both understood there was nothing sexual about it. We’d already slept in the same bed and neither of us thought much of it. I never loved her that way and I’m pretty sure I can safely say the feeling was mutual.

I was thinking about all of this on the train home. It had two levels, I’d never thought much of it beforehand but the idea of a double-decker train was rather odd considering there weren’t even any double-decker buses in Paris. It made me chuckle; London was so far away. A lady walked in and started a hello-ladies-and-gentlemen-I-need-money-please speech, she had a daughter and needed money to buy her books but she wasn’t just begging she was selling bracelets for 2€. While she finished her speech I fished a 2€ coin out of my pocket. I’m not very good at choosing things so I just picked the one that stood out most.

I’d been thinking a lot lately, especially just then, I was thinking about it again. The sadness. It felt like every time it came it was a little worse and it had already been really bad. I was afraid of what worse would mean. I knew I hurt people when I was like that, even though I tried not to some part of me always wants to lash out. As a desperate call for help maybe? I’d always been bad at expressing myself and it wouldn’t come as a surprise if the way I instinctively asked for help actually pushed people away.

I was fiddling with my new bracelet, pulling it around my fingers and feeling the beads almost unconsciously. I always fidgeted when I was nervous, doing something with my hands helped to minimize the storm of thought in my head by feeling something simple: wooden beads on an elastic string.

To drown out the thoughts I liked to sit on my desk, grab some headphones and paper and just draw. No matter how bad it was, drawing could always make it better. Unfortunately I wasn’t near my desk at that time.

I got out of the train and started walking to the bus stop. How much worse could it get I wondered. Would it ever stop? Or at least stop getting worse? I looked down at my bracelet, it was Halloween coloured: orange purple orange purple… but there was one place with two purple beads side by side. It wasn’t particularly pretty but I liked the colours. I leaned my head back and stared upwards, I probably looked more than stupid, I didn’t really care. I was ignoring the hurricane of thoughts in my head and I could just about see the next stops like that.

I was going home to my desk. Mia might be there. Mia was probably the one I’d hurt the most. Maybe I should just leave, I thought, but that would’ve broken my heart. So I kept walking home. The bracelet was surprisingly comfortable, it wasn’t bitey like I thought it would be.

What would she think, I wondered, if I just left and never came back. Gone with the wind. I know her well enough to know that she wouldn’t just be fine with it. The analytical part of me pointed out how she’d been there so many times and all the things we’d shared; moments, secrets, thoughts… But maybe she wouldn’t be that bad. Maybe she’d be better off without me. Why did I tear my own heart to pieces? Orange purple orange purple orange purple purple. I liked it. “I’ll keep it” I told myself.

………………………………..somanydots……………………………………………

My friend Zampano asked for a follow up story on Passing Moments so here is Tina’s point of view 🙂

I didn’t have a word limit for this one so I could write a little more ^^

 
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Posted by on 16 September 2016 in lost things

 

Cage

I was facing away from her, seemingly calm. She was in a cage. I’d put her there so she couldn’t hurt anyone. I tried to ignore her.

“She doesn’t want to know!” She screamed. “You’re always there when She needs you but suddenly when you need help She’s not there!”

She was banging her fists against the bars. “Why can’t you see?! She thinks you’re just having a not-very-happy moment and She doesn’t care!” She was yelling. “She never cares about how you feel!”

I whipped around, “You have no right to say that!” I screamed back. She took a step back. I continued more calmly, “She could be feeling bad or even depressed and here we are with our problems or She could just not have even read our message, you have no right to make such assumptions. If She feels bad her troubles come first.”

“Can’t you see?!” She was shaking, “She never pays attention to how you feel it even annoys Her sometimes when She knows you’re not OK! Can’t you see how one sided this is?!” She was desperate.

“Just let me be unimportant OK?!” I yelled back, “let me go back to being the one no-one cares about! Let me be there for Her if it can help and if She doesn’t want to know when I’m not OK then never mind! Let me be no-one, because it doesn’t hurt as much when it’s normal. Letting you out would only make things worse. I’m sorry.”

We were both shaking now. We were both crying. I suppose we were both in a cage.

“I’m sorry” I whispered to myself, “I’m sorry.”

 
• • •

I woke up and watched my phone finally connect to WiFi. I had new messages, from Her.

“This is why I put you in a cage” I whispered, “I was right.” I felt ashamed, “She’s been there for us so many times, how dare you say She doesn’t care about me?”

I turned around to look at her. She was no longer caged up, she no longer needed to be. She just looked at me. “I hate you for that” I told her. She knew better than to answer.

 
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Posted by on 14 September 2016 in lost things

 

(un)welcomed guests?

Angel’s dagger was lodged into a strange contraption of Elvin origin that had just tried to maul a pale and panicked Marisa. She pulled her blade out of its target and took a second to examine her surroundings. The small tunnel in the cave had emerged into a small home. The furniture, like the strange trap they had just disabled, was built with Elf technology; the intricate mechanical movement of some pieces of furniture gave that much away. Behind her, the others were emerging from the tunnel, first Nikke, then Arthur, and last of all Harry, dragging a bag full of armour and supplies he had yet to distribute. Marisa was crawling out from under the table where she had instinctively hid when the trap was triggered. Angel sighed, sliding her blade back into its scabbard. The rumbling sound of battle rattled the walls. A massive army complete with a supporting fleet of airship and artillery was attempting the incredible feat of invading the city by the mountains. Meanwhile the city was protecting its walls with an equally impressive military apparatus.

 

Angel quickly stepped to a window overlooking most of the battle. Flaming airships belonging to both sides were slowly sinking to the ground, fire spreading amidst their hull. Flashes of light indicated wizards and riflemen had begun exchanging fire with one another. Angel walked from one window to the next, making sure no imminent threat was about to discover the location of her party. The house was within range of a group of riflemen, but they seemed notably indifferent of the little home, although it would offer them better cover than the rock they were currently hiding behind.

 

They gathered in the house’s biggest room. Harry spilled his supplies in the middle of the room, hoping to finally equip his young comrades. Arthur picked up a light chain mail and broiled leather armour and a medium sized, thin blade, curved at the end.

 

“What’s up with this blade? I’ve never seen anything like it.”

“It’s called a Katana. It’s commonly found in the castles of the eastern princes.”

 

Arthur swung the elegant blade in through the air, testing it, then grabbing the circular grip with both hands and staring down an imaginary enemy. Meanwhile Marisa walked up to the pile of weapons and picked a set of knives which she stored in scabbards spread throughout her body. Essentially where she could squeeze a belt, she put a knife in it. It left her with little armour, but, when questioned, she simply answered “Why protect myself against blows that won’t reach me anyway?” She completed her equipment by grabbing a leather quiver, wooden bow, and several arrows. Marisa tried as best she could to reconstruct her regal equipment. The armour she found was too big, so Angel and Harry combined their knowledge and magical abilities to re-forge the metal then and there to fit the small princess. “It’s provisional” assured Angel as she fit the patchy breastplate on the little girl. Sighing, Marisa picked out a rapier from the pile, missing the beauty and elegance of her own weapon. Angel stepped away from her lookout role by the window and picked the largest piece of armour and again set to re-forging it. Having re-forged many men’s armour to fit her own size, she was used to the process, and did a much better job than she had done for Marisa. She donned the armour and grabbed a rather large straight bladed double edged sword from the pile, seemingly at random. Her stare never left the windows.  As Harry was donning his usual, enormous piece of armour, a loud thud rang on the roof of the house. Loud mechanical noises were heard, and Angela shielded her eyes as the group of riflemen was apparently vaporised by some kind of magic.

 

After a few seconds of tense silence, the door of the hut opened calmly, letting a slender elf, equipped in battle armour and all, stroll into the house, closing the door behind him. He turned to the makeshift party and outstretched his arms.

 

“Welcome, honourable guests!”

…………….rusty….dots…..ITSBEENA//LONG…TIME::…………..

Hello internet. Forgive my rusty bones. Its been a while since I have written anything. Hope this addition to the co op story is a satisfactory one. Your turn Banzai.

 
 

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