Being Called A C*nt By A Stranger

Writing

It’s not everyday that you can indulge in the luxury of having off-the-cuff profanities spat at you on a public street whilst on your daily commute home from work.

So given that exactly this unfolded this very evening makes me really want to count my lucky stars and thank God for all of the socially defunct individuals who scuttle through our streets, waiting to pounce unannounced on the unprepared passerby a.k.a. moi.

No matter who you are or where you are, rest assured, an ill-mannered, pale and stale son of a b*tch will force their way into your life if only for a moment to p*ss on your parade. What kind of world do we live in where you can’t even walk down a residential street without being told you’re a c*nt by a stranger? Cat calls are bad enough but to say something so vulgar such as the C-word is a total disrespect and disregard for me as a human being.

If the world p*sses you off, don’t take it out on me. Mental-illness gets a bypass, but if you are not mentally-ill and instead you are someone who quite bluntly gets a kick out of straight-up verbally insulting someone you know nothing about then  you’re someone we should feel sorry for. For your life must be in a seriously dire state for you to be so cruel.

As the hooded man in his late-thirties stared into my soul while simultaneously slating it as he spewed the expletive with such conviction, I felt a tremor of shock ripple through my body. I turned my head to ensure he wasn’t going to step up his verbal assault with a physical one.

I stopped momentarily, struck by confusion as to why someone who doesn’t know me felt so compelled to say such a thing. As I watched him fade into the darkness of the Winter evening, my thoughts of confusion followed and faded alongside him too. In exchange came one clear intrinsic thought – ‘why be an enemy to yourself when you have plenty of enemies in this world’, not to say that every stranger I encounter is an enemy but moreso it’s this idea that we are all so hard on ourselves. We can be our own worst enemies, we look at self-love as something which is either mushy or big-headed. But those who see it in these lights fail to understand the true meaning of love. Perhaps love means different things to different people, to me it is an unconditional kindness and care for someone/something. Absent of harm, and full of compassion. It’s funny how we can apply all of these to another human being yet can struggle so much to apply them to ourselves. I am notoriously hard on myself, and I’m sure there has been times in your life where you have been so too. When you reflect on the ‘stick over carrot’ model this, do you think it has led to better or worse outcomes? Better or worse moods?

Perhaps I really should be thankful for the stranger who called me the c-word. For he made me realise that self-love is more important than I may have believed previously. I’m not saying that we need to put our guards up to strangers and repeat affirmation after affirmation to ourselves in the bathroom mirror before blowing ourselves a big kiss each morning. But I do believe if we were to even pause for a moment each day and reflect on how we are feeling, how well we are looking after ourselves then really all of us would be in a better place. Maybe even the man who swore at me today, he needs some self-reflection! Some self-care.

I hope you aren’t too hard on yourself, and if you are then don’t be! Because someone may just call you a c*nt for being so!

 

neon signage

Photo by Ivan Bertolazzi on Pexels.com

Poetry: Change

Writing

A leopard can change its spots.

But cheetahs never do.

Changing your mind is one thing.

But changing your heart, is about as easy as making a mountain move.

 

2020

A new year, a new you.

This year will be different.

A false promise? Or does here lie the truth?

 

Do you need to change your perspective?

Moreso than actually changing you?

Do you need to take more time reflecting?

Than taking time, faking, being too big for your boots?

 

Volunteering: Help Others And You Help Yourself

Writing

They say the best way to feel better about yourself is through helping others. And in no act is this more clear than that of  voluntary work.

‘Volunteering’ can refer to a smorgasboard of activities. Whether you simply take an old dear’s chihuahua out for a walk or wash the windows for your neighbour, the task at hand is not the focus, it is the act of simply doing something for someone else without the expectation of something in return from them. Yet, ironically what you do get in return surpasses any materialistic or monetary transaction tenfold over, doing something selflessly brings true merit.

*Studies have proven this to be true.

Towards the end of last year I found myself struggling with esteem in some areas of my life. This absence was, in effect, creating a presence of self-doubt and worthlessness. Deciding enough was enough I took action and sought to find a way to boost my self-esteem, I started looking for a charity to be a part of.

As much as each charity serves an important purpose, for me, children’s charities have resonated with me on a personal level. Everyone should have the right to an enjoyable childhood, as studies show,  a difficult childhood can manifest itself into a disastrous adulthood. So I think anyway to support children’s well-being and development is a great thing to do.

The charity I volunteer at in particular supports children with additional needs – autism, Down’s Syndrome for example. The charity creates a safe space for them to simply be children. We play sports and other activities which gives them 3 hours of fun and their parents some free time.

Although physically and emotionally tiring, the rewards of seeing them enjoy themselves and then find that I myself am smiling by the end of it is evidence of just how much I get from volunteering.

I would strongly suggest that if you ever feel down about yourself or even if you have a bit of spare time, perhaps give volunteering a go. You never know what it could give you in return.

Poem: Rejection

Writing

Stinging like the barb of a hornet,

Heckles on my neck, shocked, stand upright.

I’m in disbelief.

 

Stormy skies swirl above me,

My mind, clouded with an overcast of doubt.

Why didn’t they just pick me?

 

I thought I was good enough,

But what good is water if absent in a drought?

 

Is this pain permanent or temporary?

Do I have what it takes to succeed?

Or is it time to remove my mask?

 

Rejection  – such a daunting thing,

Making a mouse of a man in any task. 

 

But can it make a man out of me?

Is Talent Subpar To Appearance?

Writing

“As a woman you are constantly fighting against only being valued for your looks, because it becomes a very tenuous thing, to be defined by the gaze of others. And beauty is, by definition, ephemeral: it’s a thing you can’t trap in time. It’s a butterfly: it lives for a second. So to make a lifetime worthwhile and have meaning cannot rest on beauty.” Natalie Portman – Metro Newspaper. 

When I read the Hollywood starlets excerpt in the Metro newspaper several weeks ago on my way home from work, her words resonated with me, not solely for their poetic eloquence but for the more saddening and poignant message they behold. 

In more recent times I have found myself picking up on references regarding appearances, especially those of women. We only have to review the last couple of days with the release of the deeply emotionally charged documentary of Little Mix’s Jesy Nelson to gain but a glimpse into the toxic world of ‘beauty’ in the entertainment industry, or be it, in the world itself. 

Who do we blame? Society or our very own biological clock? Men can spread their seeds long after they receive their pensions, but for women, our reproductive window is much more narrow. Is this therefore reflected in our behaviour towards the upkeep of our appearances? 

Is it society’s fault that on the whole, men are allowed to age gracefully yet women have to perform some sort of witchcraft to try and reverse the hands of time as best they can? Or must Mother Nature hold her hands up?

Whether subconsciously biological or not, how can you justify telling a woman in a girl group to ‘go kill yourself, how can sugar babying be seen as ‘OK’, how can people dying in the living rooms of the homes of their ‘beauticians’ from silicone injections be donned the norm?

Social media has to take some level of responsibility for greenlighting a breeding ground of mental illnesses. These firms are failing us, especially young people. With almost half experiencing cyberbullying on social media, three quarters of which are female. 

Ofcourse social media has its positives but if we stop and think about Instagram in particular for a second, a platform to, predominantly,  share images. As I scroll I’m bombarded by a crusade of images of which are borderline pornographic. Now, I’m not some nun who feels that this kind of content shouldn’t be allowed,  I think embracing your seductive side is absolutely fine but the more I scroll the less diversion I see from this. In other words, the platform seems to be stressing appearance and a certain type of appearance at that. 

In addition to over-sexualised images from individuals who are teens in alot of cases to ‘the face’ of beauty. By this I mean the pouty, overtly contoured bratz doll-esque look which seems to have become the archetypal example of what it means to be ‘beautiful’.

 And to this I say – what happened to originality? Beauty is not one form. Nature makes variation purposefully, to support biological evolution of a species, by creating greater variance, diseases are less likely to wipe out whole populations. So why is our brains now wanting us all to look the same? 

The look which alot of people are going for is borderline disturbing. It’s waxy, too polished and too forced. Haven’t these cookie cut moulds ever heard of a concept called ‘effortless beauty’?

Not to be misconstrued, I love a glam look but when glam becomes the norm what does this say about society’s standards of what beauty really is? 

I don’t have an issue with people wanting to look good, I have an issue of what we are made to think ‘good looking’ really is? 10 minutes on instagram and it can leave you seething with anger as you scan the scenes of scantily cladded blow up dolls sprawled across their newly polished bentleys. Instagram is an arena for falsehood flashy lifestyles, which if you fall down the wrong rabbithole, grows nothing but contempt and concern amongst the lives of normal people, especially young people who are at an age where they can be deemed to be highly influenced by what they see around them. 

No, social media platforms don’t choose what people post, but they can choose to remove what people post. The behemoth Instagram seems to be attempting to begin to put a plan of action in place to tackle the mental health illnesses it has in partial a liability of contributing to through the means of trialing the removal of likes  visible on a post. Let’s hope this paves the path for other social media platforms to follow suit.

It seems like the world has fallen in love with social media, and there’s no way out of it, is there?

Sexual Assault – Should We Be Allowed To Carry Weapons?

Writing

The air is frosty, I’m wearing open-toed heels as I briskly walk towards the direction of my house, it’s the small hours of Sunday morning, and a few seconds earlier I was saying bye to my friends at the bar. I only live 15 minutes away, heels are hard to walk in I tell myself, but, like a newborn lamb I’m determined to put a spring in my step and scurry home as fast as I can.

The darkened narrow road is lit only by the soft amber hues of the lampposts. I’m only ten minutes away now I tell myself. I try to walk with confidence, noone will approach me if I walk with conviction, I thought. I turn the corner of my road, now only minutes away and I hear a branch snap behind me, refusing to turn around out of fear of not wanting to see what was there, I pick up my pace and head straight for my door, as I put the key into the lock, I hear footsteps behind me……

 

This narrative is becoming concerningly more common each year, the number of rapes recorded by police has increased by 40% in the last 4 years. Relating this to the reminder that it is illegal to be in possession of a weapon here in the UK without good reason. It has me wondering where is the legal system going wrong? Is it the victim who should be restricted by the law or the assaulter to take advantage of it? By being in possession of a weapon I  by no means condone the use of a knife or gun, but what permanent damage can really be done by pepper spray? Temporary blindness vs the loss of someone’s esteem, or worse, their life. The possession of mace or pepper spray is illegal in the UK. So what can I use to defend myself? Wear a longer skirt?

 

Women are not the only victims of sexual assault, men are too. Infact it has been reported that men are more likely to be raped than to be falsely accused of rape.

 

With the statistics on sexual assault rising:

 

How can you defend yourself?

 

A Rape Alarm – these can be broken in a heartbeat, one stomp and it’s crushed. Besides, it’s hardly going to help me down a dimly lit alleyway with nobody around.

 

Or how about some ‘criminal identifier self-defense’ spray, what would you prefer maroon or rouge? I understand the premise if this, mocking pepper spray it could act as a deterrent and identifier of the attacker days later with it’s stain but at the same time I don’t have the biggest faith in it.

 

Yes, you could say just go to some martial arts classes, and that thought has crossed my mind, but then again you could be the next karate kid and be absolutely floored by the sheer weight of your attacker if caught offguard. Overall I have faith in the reliability of martial arts as a mechanism for self defense, but I just don’t think martial arts or self defense classes should be the only option I could rely on.

 

You could argue that if you were allowed to carry a weapon to defend yourself with there’s nothing to say the attacker couldn’t overpower you, turning the tables and use it against you. This is a fair point.

 

I’m not asking for a taser gun, knife or gun, just for the legalisation of pepper spray or its equivalent as a fast action measure to temporarily stun the person attacking me so I can at least get a few seconds to run away. As it stands, I hate the idea of leaving places late at night, I’m not paranoid, but if  am then I blame the news for constantly shoving statistics of assault down our throats.

 

I must clarify that I don’t encourage or endorse the use of weapons, I merely want to raise some thoughts on self defense with regards to sexual assault.

 

If you have been sexually abused, do not suffer in silence. Some supportive sources in the UK are:

 

Poem: Rejection

Writing

Rejection

Rejection is like an unwelcome face.

All too familiar, you close the door on it.

Should rejection be ignored or embraced?

It depends on what way you look at it.

 

Rejection from a lover

The heat of their body touching yours is fading.

Now all but a distant memory.

The taste of their mouth on yours – erasing.

You yearn for the return of this reality.

.

Failure

Will it make you stronger or weaker?

Do you see it as a knock on the esteem?

Is it a chance to become better?

Or do you say farewell to your dreams?

 

Rejecting yourself

Just as you can have too much of a good thing.

You can have too much of a bad.

If rejection comes round to often?

Understandably – where do you stand?

 

Is Being An Introvert Wrong?

Writing

introvert

noun

/ˈɪntrəvəːt/


                                                               a shy, reticent person.

Truth be told, I’m a naturally shy person. But should I be annoyed at this? I use to think so. Slowly I’ve come to realise that being shy doesn’t mean I’m in any way  less capable of doing something than someone who isn’t. It just means I may need more time.

I think we put too much pressure on ourselves to live up to a ‘bubbly, out there’ persona, to a personality that we ‘think’ others will like, but infact don’t really know.

To be shy doesn’t directly correlate to being boring and unwilling to try new things, it just means you may be curious yet cautious of trying new things. To be cautious of something isn’t  a bad thing right? So long as you don’t let shyness stop you from trying then you should never feel bad for being careful about things.

Another assumption surrounding introverted people is that they don’t show much emotion, that they can seem quite cold and poker-faced. To control your emotions is a skill, it’s an individual’s choice whether to give away their feelings freely or not.

We can’t all be extroverts and we shouldn’t all be. Don’t be ashamed of who you are, whether extraverted or indeed introverted. For a long time I was angry at myself for being shy, I didn’t want to accept it, but now I see it as part of who I am and so I’ve addressed and learned techniques to help me succeed in situations where shyness may not help me.

Being shy can help in certain moments but not all. I’ve learned that I shouldn’t be angry at myself for being the way I am, instead I should work with what I have, noone knows you aswell as you know you. Therefore you are in control of your emotions and so can shape our success by being emotionally in control. It also means that those you choose to share your emotions with are trusted by you.

Whether introverted or extraverted, or somewhere inbetween, society needs us all, imagine if we were all of one and none of the other 2? That really wouldn’t be a fun party!

Some Introverts you may recognise:

My Face

Writing

I feel like today is one of those days were my face refuses to show any sort of expression, similar to what I can only assume the lovechild of an over-botoxed barbie and a saddened clown would sport had they just been given the news that their goldfish bubbles just died.

 

Yes, my face is frozen and I just can’t seem to thaw it out today. Do you ever have those sudden waves of melancholy, moments of introspection, of silence? It’s as if they’re somewhat uncontrollable, like, I don’t willingly choose to suddenly wake up and find it difficult to get out of bed somedays or struggle to strike up a conversation with people. For some reason, it just…..happens. Please tell me I’m not the only one this happens to?

 

Is it stemming from a subconscious place of unrest? Is there something in our lives we haven’t addressed which as a result manifests itself in our mood swings we exhibit on friends, in our  periods of worry and stress we bring out on ourselves?

 

As humans we are such complex creatures, why couldn’t life be more simple, I ask? Or is the truth of the matter actually that life is infact quite simple – and it is us humans who overcomplicate it?

 

In my opinion, probably the latter of the two, for you don’t see pandas suddenly having  mental breakdowns at the thought of wearing ‘those shoes with that shirt’, or any other animals for that fact! It’s just us humans who worry about the petty things and perhaps that’s why I’m sitting here with a face that makes a plank of wood look overenthusiastic.

 

Don’t be like me, please.

How To Feel Better About Yourself

Writing

To help yourself – help others.

Today as part of the company charity day I helped out at Brixton Soup Kitchen, a service providing hot meals and clothing to those in need, including homeless people and people suffering with mental health issues. Of course my interest was to help those in need but strangely enough I found that by the end of the day of making pasta bake and repainting the walls of their open space areas, I found I was the one feeling better off – about myself by helping out others.

 

I would definitely say if you’re struggling with low self-esteem or motivation then even if you can’t bring yourself to do something for you, start by doing small things for others, you’ll soon begin to gain a sense of responsibility and esteem to a point where you can start to do you things for you. It’s annoying but I find that’s the case sometimes, where I’m more willing to stick my head in the fire for somebody else over myself which I guess is both good and bad depending on the circumstance. But I think the bottom line is even if you help out at a charity with the intended internal goal of helping yourself you shouldn’t feel selfish about this. Heck, I’d rather be ‘selfish’ doing something for charity than being selfish  in other ways, wouldn’t you?

 

It’s interesting because from the choices of charity I could have decided to work with today, I initially chose the ‘wildcard’ which was pretty much a lucky dip. Only late last week after the closing date of signing up to a charity did I come to find out that this wildcard option was only feasible for employees in the United States 😦 So it was by chance that a space was still available at the soup kitchen here in London.

 

It was a humbling experience, learning through others’ anecdotes was eye opening, one which hit home was  that you may have it all today and lose it all tomorrow. Suddenly this concept seemed alot more real coming from the mouth of someone wolfing down the pasta bake I made an hour previous. I learned that we should all be a  little more thankful for the jobs we moan about on a daily basis, for without them we would not have a roof over our head or food on our plates. Infact the main leader today gave that exact story of a man who was doing what I was doing today, lending a hand to only find that the tables would turn and that  he himself would be needing their assistant a few years down the line. Not to be negative but I guess you never really know what’s round the corner. I also noticed that you really can’t judge a book by it’s cover, some people who walked through the door looked dare I say it well put together, but obviously don’t let appearance fool you, the reason they are in need obviously isn’t clear to the eye. It’s hard not to judge, infact I believe it’s pretty much impossible, isn’t it natural for us to make decisions and rationalise based on our observations? But I guess, don’t be too quick to assume is better phrasing.

 

All I can say from today is maybe instead of beating yourself up about making a mistake or moping about in the house, do one nice thing for someone like help them with their shopping or simply hold the door out, or take it a step further and volunteer at an organisation of your choosing, you may just find that you get more out of it than you thought you would.

What Does ‘Value’ Mean If You’re In Poverty?

Writing

With over 500 million people currently in poverty across the globe, materialism is but an abstract concept. Unimaginable to the people, who, through no choice of their own have found themselves struggling to survive.

 

When put into context it is  somewhat fortunate yet ignorant of us who complain about shops not stocking the right wines to go with our Sunday roasts, or leather shoes to fit on our feet. When you have almost 2,000 children dying every day from  diseases linked to unsafe water and lack of basic sanitation. We may complain how supermarkets never put our favourite soap on discount, when I think the bigger point should be, atleast we have money and a shop to complain about in the first place.

 

Value to someone with money is money, value to someone in  poverty is not solely money. Yet instead, basic necessities of life such as food , water, shelter, healthcare and education. In 2019, how can these figures exist? How can 3 billion people live on $2.50 or less each day?

 

Changing our perspective on what truly is ‘valuable’ in life may hold the secret to real life fulfillment. Instead of this adopted attitude of ‘I’ll be happy when…..I have the newest car, the job promotion, the mortgage paid off on the house.

 

Maybe if we stopped chasing happiness and just humbled ourselves every once and a while we’d be more grateful about life. If we leant out a hand to help one another more often, we may gain a greater sense of self than merely buying a new TV. I touch on this point in my poem ‘a closed fist’ – how we walk passed those in need today, yet you never know how you may need them in the future. Gone are the days were favours can be repaid by favours, money seems to be the main way of bending someone to your will be it by bribery or blackmail.

 

Before I go off on a tangent about this maybe I’ll finish on the following:

 

“Nowadays people know the price of everything and the value of nothing.” – Oscar Wilde

 

Poem – Shy

Writing

I’m Shy.

Is that ok?

I know I should meet your eyes more than sometimes.

But I don’t.

Should I be ashamed?

 

I get nervous when around strangers.

Find I become a stranger in myself.

I feel paranoid of the dangers,

That lurk just behind the shelf.

 

I’m angry for being this way.

Why can’t I just change?

Why do others seem so confident?

While I remain so restrained?

 

But really, where is the fault in being shy?

Shyness is not weakness,

Anyone that says this, says a lie.

This fact’s undefeated.

 

To be shy is to be cautious of the world around you,

Not to stick your head in an oven because the guy ahead did it before you.

Shyness should be accepted as part of my nature.

And not as a burden or ill-fitting feature.

 

We are all so different.

And this is a great thing.

I shouldn’t want to be you

And you shouldn’t want to be me.

 

Be the person you want to be,

Whether that’s shy, loud or somewhere inbetween.

 

person wearing red lipstick biting film Blue yeti microphone being discussed in relation to podcast recording

The Woes Of Recording Your Own Voice.

Writing

So, here I am, staring down the barrel of a gun, otherwise known as my Blue Yeti USB microphone. My lip starts to quiver then an absolute torrent of inaudible words start spewing out of my mouth uncontrollably. I’m supposed to be doing my intro to my very first podcast but instead I’m building up a sweat and the odd heart palpitation.

Should I make a script or just ad lib it? Well, as I’ve just mentioned above, the ‘off the bat’ approach just wasn’t cutting the mustard so I decided to jot down a few bullet points. You know, just things like not forgetting to mention ‘hello’, or my name, or why I’m even doing the damn podcast, pretty much every word I would most likely forget had I not clamped the post-it note down to the desk right infront of me.

So with the  script in place and microphone at the ready I start talking gibberish. I stutter, I mumble, I do everything in my power to seem absolutely powerless to my nerves. But why am I so nervous, it’s just me in the room (I hope)? But microphones are intimidating objects, like uncorked wine bottles, just begging you to drink their insides. As I stare down at my mic it glares back up at me and begins to whisper about how groggy my voice will sound on the recording, how everyone listening will laugh at me, how I need a lozenge asap. I silence my mic by suffocating it with my hand, I slam the switch off and I begin the cry into my hands. Will this podcast ever come to be I ask myself?

Days go by, and each time I walk passed my mic it hisses at me with spite. I lock it in the cupboard fearing that I’ll never get to record my thoughts on the taste of water or whether Veganism is just a fad. Holding on to the rough recordings I made before my mic mouthed off at me, I decided to have a moment of insanity and play them back on my laptop.

All I can say is, well…….nothing at all really. I was floored, speechless, by the sound of my own slurred words. To say it sounded like nails on a chalk board would be an understatement. My microphone was right! I sounded like sh*t!

I haven’t used my mic or opened my mouth since, this was weeks ago, will I ever speak again and even more importantly than that, will me and Mikey ever rekindle our friendship?? TBC

Poem – Lost

Writing

Lost

I feel lost sometimes.

Like I don’t fit in.

And yet I don’t want to stand out.

I just bear and  grin.

A broken doll.

Is an appearance I feel from within.

 

But I shouldn’t always play the victim,

life is kind to me at times.

I only wish I wasn’t just as strict in,

How I divided up my time.

 

Life has no map.

It has no compass.

But even if it did.

I still believe that I’d be hopeless.

At reading every bit.

How do you build belief in yourself?

This question I internally ask.

Are we doomed to be the prisoners of our own mindsets?

Or are we blessed in just being lost?

 

 

 

Poem: Fight

Writing

It doesn’t matter what’s wrong or what’s right.
If you go left, I’ll go right.
I don’t want anyone to know I cry at night,
So that’s why I always put up a fight.

I’ll fight on a Monday, I’ll fight on a Tuesday.
I’ll fight when you choose-a-day,
Cuz for me, it’s never a -lose-day.
Atleast not in your eyes.
But perhaps inside mine.

See, although I try and hide it,
Truth is, I really am quite shy.
I really do get tired,
Of keeping up this lie.

See, I feel like you will feel I’m weak.
If I were to go weak at the knees,
Would you expect me to kiss your feet?

I dare not kiss my own self-esteem,
For fear of being seen as an obscene wannabe Queen.
But, perhaps I’ve got it all wrong.
To care for yourself is not vain or self-centered.
A love for thine self should surely be unmeasured.
Unweathered and treasured.
Or atleast I would hope.
But not merely know.
I would give anything up,
Just to give this a go.

The meaning behind the poem: In a society where no-one wants to seem big headed, where compliments are brushed off in a heartbeat, it can lead some of us into a downward spiral of self-loathing. Just as body dysmorphia can make someone unhappy with their external appearance, low self-esteem can make someone belittle themselves from within. My poem highlights my inner antagonism at a stage in my life where I truly didn’t like myself enough to even go to the shop to buy food. I sat on my bed and just wrote this from an honest place. I use to be a very angry person, angry at myself for not caring about my own well-being at all. I thought I’d hide my insecurities be being angry with others, being defensive so I didn’t appear weak. I’ve learnt the hard way from this and as a result have taken steps to better myself and most importantly be kind to myself so that I can be kind to others.

Poem – Lost

Writing

Below is a poem I wrote in a state of confusion one evening. I was at a loss with what my purpose in life should be. Frustrated that I had so many thoughts in my mind  yet took so little action:

Lost

I feel lost,

There’s a voice in my head that can never be silenced.

Yet a tongue in my mouth that only works when I’m violent.

I don’t see life through rose tinted glasses,

As a matter of fact, I don’t even see violet.

 

I’m lost within myself,

What is my purpose on this planet?

What should I be?

I endlessly try and plan it.

 

I’m tired.

Of the constant scribbling on pages.

Years have ticked by,

And still it’s words I have wasted.

Not actions.

 

For I can say a million things in a night,

And not act on a single one of them.

Lie awake at night,

Yet dream more when the day begins.

Against myself,

I feel I cannot win.