When I was little, I spent a lot of quality time with my grandmother.
She used to knit, whilst I cut up old pieces of clothing to sew together a little cotton bag for myself, or two.
Looking back on it now, it truly sinks in, the realization that you’re gone.
No longer do I see, the smile that lit up the room. Your loving words of encouragement as I began to blossom, like the butterflies in your garden.
Our moments, I cherish more than I ever knew my heart could. This is the reality of losing you.
In all my years of trying to find the right words to say, it has never been so clear to me before.
This journey of mine was a test, it continues to be.
And there is no doubt in my mind that people will continue to analyze my quiet and reserved nature.
They’ll pick it apart, piece by piece. I definitely will be under a microscope.
However, there is a lot people will underestimate. My cautious sense of instinct, I observe you without even saying a word.
It takes a complex life to understand the complexity of others around you.
Sure, I don’t have a degree, but my knowledge of the ones around me is on point. You think I have no voice, think again.
There’s something about the midnight hour, I can’t understand how it works, or if it calms my soul enough to heal my battle wounds.
Either way, it builds my core, to the point of nausea. You push yourself to the edge and somehow recover, just to fall back on your word again.
It’s a continuous cycle, the same routine of thought, as time leads you on a journey.
You can either hide in denial, or confront your darkest personality traits in depth.
To cut ties with fear of abandonment, a need for approval; Am I losing touch with reality or am I too aware of my own weaknesses and destructive mindset?
It takes a lot to admit defeat, and admit that you’re a broken individual.
So for the time being, love your fellow entities that surround the halls of your mind. For the present hour, cherish the hours that follow.
Be fearless, love the obstacles that test you. Kill the fear that haunts your path.
Free the mind, cure the anxiety of not knowing what’s going to happen next.
Writing in the darkness of a room has always been my scenery of choice. The patience of thought, gradually expressed. Peace is the word. I am at peace with myself. Solitude does help you sustain it. That echo or a whisper, now simply a memory engraved in the mind.
Here’s a little poem I wrote just now. It’s untitled and a work in progress…
Solitude is a necessity, when your mind is louder than people,
And a comfort for the soul, if lonely at heart
The older, the wiser. Or perhaps, that’s a lie we tell ourselves?
Wandering thoughts and lingering words
All wrapped in white lies and finely preserved