Category: poetry
Protected: Jeg elsker deg
Protected: Island in the sun
Protected: Tom Matikainen; you’re my hero
Protected: To my Aussie boy
The plane ticket will be one way.
“If I am in love with you, I will love all of you. Even if you’re far at distance, even when it gets hard, maybe even when you have betrayed me. I am in love with everything that makes you, you. I love your pain, your suffering, all of your sadness along with how mad you can get at silly stuff, or how jealous you get when other boys want to talk to me. But just know I am in love with you. And I will always want just you”
December 27th, 2016. 14:44
To whom it may concern…
Long distance relationships.
Three words.
Twenty three letters.
Seven syllables.
To you, it may seem like nothing, but to someone else, it’s something big, and beautiful. It starts off as a simple, innocent message with the intent of finding someone interesting to talk to. When you first send the message, you’re excited, because you find the person attractive in one way or another, but think little of it, because of course, at first glance you wouldn’t just assume you’re gonna date someone from another country. At first, you just talk casually, trying to keep the conversation going, but the awkwardness just keeps growing more and more. That is, until you find (a) common interest(s), and then the conversation sparks. Thoughts are flying in every direction, and without even knowing it, you’re already growing attached to this person.
They brighten your days. They show you the good in the bad. They show you things from a different perspective. And they make you so incredibly happy. With all the good, there has to be some bad. After the thrill of realizing you have that special someone wears off, the fighting kicks in, and the strength of your relationship is questioned. You think back to the beginning, and how it felt like you were on a high. You think that it’s crazy how quickly things can change. You want to give up, throw in the towel, brush off the sadness. but you can’t. because you realize that without that person, the darkness would drown you. They’re your life preserver, and without them, the impending waves would take you under before you have the chance to take a breathe. They annoy you to no end. They make you so mad that you have to force yourself to relax. They make you sad. So, so sad. That you can feel it crawling up your throat from your chest. But you can’t give up. because giving up would mean giving in, and if the other person hasn’t yet, that must mean that there’s still some hope, right? After all the fighting, you realize that you’re so connected to the other, on an emotional level, that the thoughts from before of letting go, make you feel like a complete idiot. Within the span of months, or even weeks, they’ve become your everything. And you never have to worry with them. You could look like complete crap, and they wouldn’t care. Mostly because they aren’t there to see it, but also, because they’re too in love with you’re very being, to care.
This is why when people say dating someone far away is dumb, I have to disagree.
Yes, it’s hard to be in a long distance relationship because of not being together physically and not feeling each other’s presence. You cannot hold each other’s hand neither kiss and hug. You cannot see one another whenever you wanted and needed to. You cannot do things together like the normal couple does. You’ll still miss each other even though you talk all night long, sadness will remain on heart after your conversation because you’re longing for real conversation and wanting to feel how it’s like being done face-to-face. You cannot eat pizzas, burgers or fries together whenever you’re hungry. When one’s sick, you cannot take care, give medicines and be with each other for the rest of the night. You cannot serenade and give goodnight and good morning kisses. You cannot watch him/her fall asleep by your side. You cannot go to places you wanted and spend hours together. You cannot feel how these things are done in a real world, in a real presence, in reality. But still, you know that one day you will.
Biscuits and Sparkles,
Angie.
For anyone tending a broken heart
“Leaving is not enough. You must stay gone. Train your heart like a dog. Change the locks even on the house he’s never visited. You lucky, lucky girl. You have an apartment just your size. A bathtub full of tea. A heart the size of Arizona, but not nearly so arid. Don’t wish away your cracked past, your crooked toes, your problems are papier mache puppets you made or bought because the vendor at the market was so compelling you just had to have them. You had to have him. And you did. And now you pull down the bridge between your houses, you make him call before he visits, you take a lover for granted, you take a lover who looks at you like maybe you are magic. Make the first bottle you consume in this place a relic. Place it on whatever altar you fashion… Don’t lose too much weight. Stupid girls are always trying to disappear as revenge. And you are not stupid. You loved a man with more hands than a parade of beggars, and here you stand. Heart like a four-poster bed. Heart like a canvas. Heart leaking something so strong they can smell it in the street.”
(Frida Kahlo to Marty McConnell) – Marty McConnell.
I’ve spent three years building a wall. A wall to prohibit hurtful words and heartbreak. I built it so I wouldn’t feel, never dreaming I’d actually accomplish the feat.
I did. I built a wall so high, so wide it kept everything out— heartbreak, anger, jealousy, grief and the good things like love, affection, kindness. This wall I dreamed of, it destroyed the emotional element that makes my person who I am. Until recently, that was okay. My focus centered on school, both athletic performance and academic superiority. Inability to properly display emotion didn’t matter.
Except now it does. I’ve got a crush, and more importantly friendships to cultivate. But, if I’m honest I’m not quite sure how to do so. I want to say “I love you, I care about you” but the words die in my throat or end up getting deleted moments after I type them out. I want to display my affections through actions and touch yet my body won’t move. Not for him, not for them.
It’s a curious thing, this inability or more specifically this internal struggle. Things I used to be able to say and do with ease are now so foreign my brain struggles to comprehend it, let alone actually do it. I’m having to just spit it out and try not to cringe as I do so.
I don’t want to fear emotion, I want to feel. I want to feel sincerely. I want to be able to tell people they’re appreciated and loved, and not feel like I just uttered the dumbest, most illogical statement in the world because love is strong and there’s nothing less about it.
So it’s been three years of solitude, of nothingness and I want to tell you it did absolutely nothing for me (perhaps I’ve been more into self-discovery but the wall isn’t necessary for that) and now I’ve just got to reintroduce emotion— the legitimacy of feeling back into my life, it’s going to be a long road.
So from me to you: don’t build it. No matter how much it hurts, embrace the hurt. Cry, scream if you must, but don’t built the damn wall. It’s only going to hurt you long term. Embrace the emotions you possess, they are the gateway to love and living your life in the fullest sense.
Biscuits and sparkles,
Angie.
Protected: Time means nothing when love is everything.
The ‘thing’.
Just a really… really random text. Soz mates.
I have this unusual ‘thing’. Now, I’m calling it a thing as I am uncertain what else it would be. After too much coffee and too little interaction with others, my mind begins to scramble. I become eggs, truly. I set about whole and intact, a yolk and its white.. but my shell of normality is cracked open and fried, to then be scrambled all over the pan in only minutes. Hundreds of voices begin pecking at each other inside of me, as though there is a busy conference titled ‘share your random opinions of all kind’ posted at the doorway of my brain, ever so welcome to lunatics, narcissists, actors and the negatives. Oh yes! Please do come in!
It’s rather unusual as I begin to become an observer, or more, a listener, discerning what in fact is being spoken by my own mind. Ah this equivocal mutter… to catch a thought is like trying to keep your eyes on a singular bee within a gigantic, racing swarm. It compels me to walk toward my mirror and stare. After a nice, clear look at myself I giggle neurotically, feeling as though I am quickly growing into a psychopath. Then comes the dramatist, performing scenes of Shakespeare’s ‘Romeo and Juliet’, “Oh Romeo” I sigh, longingly, “Tis but thy name that is thy enemy.. thy art thyself.. though not a Montague… what’s Montague!?..” I go on, laughing at my reflection strangely throughout the act. This doesn’t happen every time these loud, scattered thoughts surge my mind, but you can understand where I am coming from (well, maybe not..).
I discover this same storm of emotion, or what can perfectly be described as ‘silliness’, preceding an incredibly painful and heart-rending experience, where my entire being seethes with depression. First I am hopelessly sad and inconsolable, only silence exists when tears do not fill the air. Total exhaustion hits soon after eighty buckets of these tears are shed and my body feels as if it has exuded all source of water and life. Here, I truly believe this is the cessation of all happiness in my life and the future looks dim and pointless from here on in (think I like to dramatise my sadness?). Then delusion! Numbness to feelings becomes a core aspect of my delusion stage. So I decide to look in the mirror, as I do after too much caffeine. I just sit there weirdly, purely, outdone. This is a sensation I can relate to being submerged by water, complete soundlessness. It is so calm, so outlandish, so curious. I’m just perched there, raw, animalistic, gazing loosely into my eyes, thinking, ‘wow, humans are so interesting.. why am I staring at my swollen, reddened face.. I look abnormal…’ Maybe then I’ll ponder on our existence. You know those conversations that emerge, but rarely, about the moon and the earth, and they whirl into an analysis of life, the universe, whereby you have to halt any talk of it at all as it becomes ludicrous and indecipherable, almost laughable. I probably end the mirror gazing in a mad hatters laugh about how weird my face looks crying.
-This text is somehow dedicated to Drew Ivey. –
Biscuits and Sparkles,
Angie.
rockets and rainbows 