Uphill.

Flying isn't easy. You don't just need the wings, you need to trust in yourself and know that you won't fall. You need to stop being afraid of heights.

You need to take that leap of faith.

I'm hardly one to throw words like faith and belief around. I know that you don't just wake up one morning believing in yourself or with faith in God or whatever. They're things you build, like friendship.

You take it step by step. Get things right for once, make the harder choices.

You take some pain now so that you're not in pieces later.

You breathe in and know that beauty still exists and that you yet have years to live, that you can't always bury the past but you can at least try not to live in it.

You can look forward to a new day and make it new, make it worthwhile and make some more memories to cloud the ones you're trying to suppress.

I've found a new world. I'm still trying to understand it better, get more comfortable in it. Some pieces fit easily, some don't. I have to make it work.

As Mr Mraz says in his breathtaking voice here, I won't give up.

On Lykke Li, the New Year, and people who are missed.

And suddenly, I feel like the title says it all.

So Lykke Li has set up camp in my head, with her song Tonight. It is very pretty. Very very pretty.

Here's the Youtube link.

Also, I wasn't ever one to fall for astrological shizz, but APPARENTLY, Mr Neptune is going to be coming by for a long-term stay in Pisces, which is my sign.. And that is a good thing. Or so they say.

Now on to what's really bothering me.

Ever had someone who made you feel capable of being alone more than ever...someone who made you stronger so you didn't need them?

And then...felt like you've lost them?


Frankly, I've never been on the receiving end of romantic affection that I didn't return. And if I have I didn't notice, which is actually quite likely.
But to lose a friend along side being in a situation like that...

Why do I always end up losing friendship to romance?

But...I miss my friend. I miss him so much. Every time that semi-annoying semi-amusing song Kolaveri comes on TV (which happens all too often for my comfort) I miss him. It's not fair that I have to lose him to this, this damn unpredictable wrecking ball.

I check the calendar, see that there are 25 days left to the end of the month-long break he wants from me. I miss him and long for his company. I don't know if this hard for him. I've been in the one-sided boat and know how bad it sucks and wouldn't want to put anyone through it...and I also know what it's like to wish the person out of your life, to half-wish not to ever have met them.

But...I don't want to lie. I don't want to promise something I may not be able to actually give. I don't want to hurt anybody the way I've been hurt.

Then I wonder if I already have.

The core of me that's a scared little child wants to bury herself in a forest cave, in the damp sweet-smelling soil. To feel the rain through the mud but hide from the sun.

But I'm trying to be all grown up now, thanks to the selfsame person. I can't hide. If getting sun-burnt with loss is the only way through this, fine. So be it.

But...I miss him. I've never wished for any particular person to be a part of my readership before...but I wish he would see this and know how sorry I truly am.

Lykke Li's fairy-tale-like yet earthy voice fills the air.

Let me go, let me go
let me go, let me go.

Living.

Breathing isn't all I do nowadays.

There were some moments in the past that would have loved to make me believe that all I ever would be is them. That they would encompass everything beautiful I would ever feel, that they were all I had to live for.

Love.
It's not a lie but it's not everything. There's so much more.

So much more I could want, that I do want. So much more that wouldn't be so complicated to attain.
So much more I could do with my previously sorry existence.

There's nothing as immensely...satisfying...to the soul, I suppose, than feeling that way, yet I find myself rendered incapable of ever feeling that deeply again.

All those cracks that have finally filled up seem to have blocked the entrance to that corner of my heart that I fear, even after all the...fixing, will forever remain broken.

But there's the rest of me, not just that stupid aching beating organ, which can do so much more than pine over what is forever lost.

And even if it comes back to me, I could never take it back. I just...couldn't.

Maybe I've been rendered...romantically impotent. The good news is that I don't need this in my life.
Not in the here and now anyway.

I'm going to sweep these pieces under the rug and not enter this room any more. Leave it bleak and empty, wait for the dust to collect. Maybe when I turn the knob again after forever and push the creaking door open, these pieces would have also crumbled to fine nothingness.

And until then I'll have music and friends and...everything else I've simply neglected, when I was staying true to the hopeless romantic in me.

Let's dream again, and about things I can actually have.

The book I'm the most thankful for.

I realise that I should have done this ages ago. The reason that I even have this blog, that I've written the things I have written till date, is Harry Potter.

No, the boy with the over-popularised scar never put a spell on me, except in the figurative sense. And technically that was Rowling's doing.
I got into HP pretty late. When I got myself the first book the sixth one had already had come out.
But when the seventh one came out, I was up the night of its release, holding the blue-red-yellow-splashed hardcover in my hand, heart thudding in my chest, till 5 am. After which I couldn't sleep. I mean, that ending.


JK Rowling is definitely one of my greatest inspirations and role models, and God knows how many Harry Potter cracks I get through on a daily basis. Whether or not people get them is entirely a different issue.

But yes, I did this post because this competition reminded me to. Reminded me to be thankful.

http://bethrevis.blogspot.com/2011/10/show-gratitude-for-booksand-win-19.html

Wish me luck! :)

New beginnings.

'Beginning' is such a promising word.

It's not even a 'good beginning' or a 'successful beginning', no. Just...a beginning.

The prospect of shedding old skin and 'starting something new', as our dear Troy and Gabriella would say it, sounds very...invigorating. (Reference to: High School Musical. Because why wouldn't I?)
It's like the whole 'Breaking Dawn' thing (URGH I'm talking in CLICHES)...the sight of a rising sun is the promise of a new day. Does it matter that you still have to actually be up in time for the sunrise and drag yourself to classes called Quantitative Methods and Analysis for Business and Management? (I mean, really.)
No.

What does matter is that in that one moment when you see the sun rise above the horizon and shatter the glassy blanket of darkness, you smile and feel ready to take on shit like Quantitative Methods and Analysis. You know that you have it in you to take on every blasted college lecture, yappity-yap-STFU-friend, lonely-bout-of-tears and heartbreak.

What doesn't kill you makes you stronger.

I've had that quote in my head for a few days now and well, it works.

Sorry, digression.

But yes, in the beginning of the beginning (hah! Convoluted. At least a little.) you feel alone, anxious, jittery and constantly look at your past for shelter and comfort. Even if you've been dying to dive headlong into a new world to escape the very same past. You're poised with one foot over the threshold.

WELL, if you've got the guts and audacity to get to the threshold, just grit your teeth and get the hell out!

You know it'll be worth it.

I'm the kind of person who always carries around her emotional baggage. Letting go is an unfamiliar concept to me. I cling on to the last, barest thread of things that actually matter to me even if they've hurt me so bad that I've had to make myself let go. It's never actually fully done. It'll always be there at the back of my mind, like lyrics to my favourite songs.

I don't really know if that's the way it works for everyone, 'cause I've seen people forget, so so easily.
But then, maybe those are pretences for the benefits of others, or maybe even an attempt at trying to fool oneself. God knows, we're good at pretending.

But then, this time, I'm just going to keep telling myself, "NO!" in this firm voice I never actually use outside my head, and keep looking forward. There are twilight moments when the memories snake into my mind, of course. But that's when I jump up and say, "Hokay, time to get to...(insert whatever is to be done here.)"

Because that's how it should be.

I deserve to be happy...right?

Doesn't...doesn't everyone?

Snapshot of Me.

Ever wondered what you look like on the outside?

I'm hardly what I'd call a camera-savvy person, but I can't deny that sometimes, I wonder what I look like. When I'm battling things inwardly, does it show? When I'm being fake-happy, is it obvious? When I want to burst out into very noisy tears....?

Maybe having a camera on me 24x7 wouldn't be such a bad idea.
Temporarily only. Otherwise I'll just go nuts.

And we don't wanna know what that  looks like.

On so many levels though, I wonder what I look like. What kind of a person do I appear to be? At first sight? When you get to know me a little better? When you know me inside out?

Right now, I know I feel exhausted. And two nights of restless sleep aren't why.

But when I look into the mirror, I just isolate things. Dark circles ringing the expressionless eyes. Mouth corners turned down, unsmiling. I don't know how they come together, what they say.

I feel like I'm drowning in myself again, trying to escape from something very specific on the outside, that I'm barely avoiding running smack into.
Which..I kinda am.


Why do I have to run away every time?

What do I look like when all I want to do is run away? Far, far away.

Fear. So much fear.

I'm tired of being afraid.
Of having control, but still no control.

If only I could
take snapshots of me
put them up
for the world to see
I'd point out how
I was made to feel
since I never show
the real deal
Closet in 
on what's left of me
while they express
their sympathies
'cause they don't care
even if they know
not knowing was
just an excuse, though
They'll go on
leave me home
maybe it's better
being on my own.


Rhyming isn't my forte. Neither are nursery-style poems. (Limericks? Not technically. Those are supposed to be funny, right?)

Signing off.

Echoes.

I lean over the railing that separates me from the gushing, frothing water below. Drawing my jacket closer and hugging myself, I breathe out white in the clear still winter air. A dancing flickering reflection of my black-and-white swathed form peers back.

A black covered figure appears behind me in the reflection and puts her hand on my shoulder. Smiles. Kisses my neck. I gasp.

The cold wind whistles through my ears and the bite in it brings me back to earth. Echoes of music are drowned out as my misty eyes gaze at the water in focus again.
High notes, low notes. Smiles and tears and a lot of hurt. My heart on the floor, stomped over. I have to keep reminding myself of that.

A cold, desolate desert, and the water that was below me has vanished. The barren, frozen wasteland that seemed to be my life after you left me. Impossible to navigate. To survive.

Deserts and endless oceans later, I come to myself and see what’s left. Wounds and scars slit open again. Very little left to salvage.

Slowly, very slowly, learning to smile truly again. Smiling into a mirror to make sure it reaches the sad empty eyes.

Fake and real smiles later, going through a night without dreaming about you. Having silly dreams about cartoon characters again.

Dreams, nightmares and sleepless nights later, finding it in myself to talk to other people. Without grieving you at least once in every conversation.

Many conversations later, making new friends. Trying to look forward to the lifetime I’d overlooked in my childish stubbornness to remain sad about you. That I am still young, all of seventeen years and six months old. Not ancient, not here since the dawn of time.

Very little had been left to salvage, so I built a new self.

Reconstructions and recoveries later, looking into a mirror and feeling truly proud of myself.

High notes, low notes. Smiles and tears and a lot of hurt. My heart on the floor, stomped over. I still remember that.

But I’ve left it all behind.