As much as I am grateful for life as it is today, I can’t help but wonder about what could have been in another outcome of events. I know, it’s kind of ridiculous at this point.
But sometimes, your mind just wants to know.
When you have to discuss certain parts of your life, I suppose the curious side of you emerges.
I’ve learned a lot about my past over the last few years or so. Suppressing your feelings about it is a temporary solution. Such a complex journey, yet I do believe that I have found closure as a result.
We can’t change our pasts, unfortunately. As tough as that is for someone like me in moments like this, all I can do is acknowledge it, process it to the best of my ability and accept it.
That’s easier said than done, ultimately.
As I get older, I do hope that things start to make a little more sense.
Well, maybe I’ll write a book about it, or perhaps a novel of some kind. That’s something I hope to do in my later years. We’ll see if it happens.
Stay safe, and I hope you all have a wonderful evening.
If hoarding emotions and thoughts was a skill, I’d be a professional at this point in time. Hoping it will become easier as months goes by, and all of that.
To be honest, my writing has definitely impacted somewhat. You analyze yourself and others too much, as well as your surroundings and patterns.
Hard to believe we’re almost two weeks into the New Year, I’ve had a semi-productive timeline as of recent. It’ll pick up eventually, and so will the motivation and inspiration to do bigger and better things with my mind.
Reflection is good, to some extent. Just don’t overdo it, you’ll thank me later.
There is a lot I have to learn, and accept about myself. Bad habits, that one might need to take a second look at. A lot of books I want to read, places I want to visit and appreciate. Nostalgia seems to have hit me , ever so discreetly.
It’s also nearly four years without my grandmother, I am always in disbelief about this. Feels like yesterday when I held her hand, that last smile has replayed in my mind, more times than I can count. Her strength through it all has definitely played a major part. All I want to do is make my guardian angel proud.
I promised myself that I would update this blog every day in 2020, and I am determined to see it through.
Every thought has a meaning of some kind, I suppose. Always did have a fascination for the mind, and how it works.
For now, I’ll drift off to sleep with dreams in mind. Who knows, maybe I’ll find something.
Take care, have a beautiful evening.
Love, Mila. Xo
Hello again, everyone! And to the new followers that have appeared recently: Welcome to DAYDREAM MADNESS, a place of honest, complex thoughts expressed by yours truly.
Found myself eager to write tonight. I also wrote a few poems earlier on in the day.
Wanted to share a poem with you today. This will be in my poetry book when it’s finally published. Title & release date is yet to be announced but this piece will give you a clue if you read down the starting points. Or perhaps it already sounds familiar?
This piece is called “MUSES & ARCHIVED EMOTIONS”
Love; a sacred archive of past emotions, the morning sun to our gray beginnings
you were and you still are the object of my affection until oxygen ceases my brain
Continue reading “daydream madness”
It began harmlessly enough, I never expected it to change my perspective of love,
but with all departures; will come sadness. Suddenly, you’re lost in the madness.
Had a charm for days, a smile that could make anyone’s stomach fill
with butterflies just from a simple look. It was muse at first glance
and as I look again on it, maybe it was meant to happen.
You gave me this vibe – a sentimental yet swiftly cold aura, I knew in my heart I’d place you in the depths of my heart. As much as I like to deny it for all it is worth, you truly got me struck with 3 words. From the hello that shaped our moments, to the silent goodbye-
and the spiral of repetition cycles, this was true; regardless of what you think of us now.
”Pistanthrophobia; the fear of trusting”
Drove me mad, but kept me happy. Made me cry, yet you’re the rays of sun on my face,
we made a mess of our time, something we’ll never get back, but I’ll treasure this
and it doesn’t matter if we don’t ever speak again, having you once was enough.
I am not your only love, neither would I expect it from a heart of such charm
although it does get to me, how I’m now the ghost of your past.
Surely, it must have meant the world to you at some point,
or maybe it did not- since you didn’t love me at first chance.
I wish I could understand your reasons for letting go,
because it’d bring me well-needed peace.
I can only hold on to the memories we built-
and the ones we never had the chance to.
Never truly had the balance, nor the patience
to really be in sync with reality’s harsh brutality.
I’ve always coated my blues with hues of nostalgia
and rose colored shade of happier times in tact.
I see relief when I stand in the pouring rain as it falls,
a sense of weightlessness when a melody strikes my ears,
it feels like I can’t be torn apart, almost like I’m indestructible.
it’s like a kiss of calm; something I rarely feel,
and sadness feels like a distant memory.
“Can you understand? Someone, somewhere, can you understand me a little,
love me a little? For all my despair, for all my ideals, for all that – I love life.
But it is hard, and I have so much – so very much to learn.”
When love hurts; it’s the real kind. I found myself saying that,
as I bit my tongue and patiently waited for tears to stop falling down.
I’ll be okay, you said. stupid enough, but I fell for that lie.
Years down the line, here I am. I feel more broken than ever and it’s all because I can’t seem to let go of past memories that now haunt my soul like a skeleton in the closet.
As the days turn into months and then so forth, you start to feel empty inside, like nothing could hurt you more because it’s already too painful. I trusted you when you said I’d be okay, that it was okay to feel like this as long as I knew it was going to get better.
I now found it all to be a complete lie. I found it wasn’t better, no improvement in the slightest and I feel like a fool for thinking I could believe you after your departure.
I’m sure everyone’s thinking the same; poor girl, having a pity celebration for days.
although, it was far worse; it was the definition of ice-cold hatred towards self.
Sure, they both are pretty much the same thing, but I guess it depends…
I’ve found solace in written drafts, hidden notes all over the web.
personally, it’s a relief to pour my emotions out in peace like this.
I know, I’m not the greatest writer or artistic creation – I’m a mess.
Honestly, poems are a loophole, a sense of belonging and unconditional support, something that will never just stand up and walk out the door, or tell you it doesn’t love you anymore, unlike the people who walk in and out of your life as if your existence is fading. I write to free my soul of pain, to feel the weight fall off my shoulders, just to feel alive once again. I’m sure it means little or nothing to others, but without my creativity, I’d most likely not be here anymore and that’s just how that is. I feel it completes me, strengthens me and helps me rise from the ashes no matter how badly I burn in the fire of the moment and the pain of old tragedies. Nostalgia finds itself around me still though.
As I write this, I overthink the concept without intent, I censor my mind to sound less of a crazy person than I already think I am. I judge my every word before anyone gets a chance, I find myself writing all the things my mind is thinking. I don’t know if that’s good or bad, neither do I even know the difference. but regardless, here I am; as bare and brutally honest as a person will ever be, sharing a piece of me I’d usually keep to myself.
Writing in general helps me cope, it’s the one thing I turn to in times of pain.