The hope of the past or the green light at the end of the dock

How many times do we find ourselves trapped within our very own Gatsbian illusion?
We build our castles in the air
We fight our way to the treasure at the end of the rainbow

We hope

Hope
A cuss word

We find ourselves trapped in the past and clinging onto hope
The tragedy of hope is that one never sees it for themselves

Is there really hope that we can step out of the past?

that we can change the past, change ourselves or disconnect from all that held us back

Was it Gatsby who was the tragic hero or was it really Daisy?

For she was as bound by her past as he was bound by his past

Bound by all that was familiar. Breeding. Her culture. Her people. She flirted with the idea of changing and moving on. It seemed like she rejected Gatsby’s attempt to drag her back to the past but did she really reject going back to the past or was it that she rejected going back to his past? For she was already in a version of her past, present and future that would never match that of Gatsby’s.

She was already trapped in her past. A past that brought her and Gatsby together as the thing that could be but almost never is and that is enough.

Although it seemed like Gatsby wanted to erase the past was it really that he was creating a future for them that she could not contemplate being a part of? For her future was really her past and Gatsby’s past was really his future.

 

Iron in the depths of my stomach

I read a post recently on anxiety.
It said that anxiety feels like when you are walking down the stairs and feel that you have missed a step or when you do not know where your keys are and are frantically searching for them.  This felt like an accurate description of anxiety to me. It seemed to me to be describing how I felt at times or feel in general.

It got me thinking of why I write and how writing provides me with a release for all that is jumbled up in my head. It got me thinking about how I would describe my own anxiety.

Anxiety to me is breathing really fast so that I can hear and feel sharp breaths from deep within my lungs and at the same time feeling like I cannot breathe at all. It feels like a weight on my lungs and chest and like something made out of iron has been dropped into the depts of my stomach. My head goes “Oh, no” and I just want to close my eyes. I lay down to rest and take deep breaths. With my eyes closed I can see a succession of images and a series of thoughts come flooding into my mind. I can see people and situations and I suddenly think of things I did not think of before. I have epiphanies and realisations. I feel sadness. I feel happiness. I am overwhelmed by sight and sound and sometimes smell. I open my eyes again. The iron in the depths of my stomach seems like it will never leave. I get up and get back to work. As I focus on the task ahead of me time forges ahead and I do not feel the iron in my stomach or my quick sharp breathing or not ┬ábeing able to breathe. My task is suddenly over and I come back into consciousness so to speak. I am lucid again so to speak. I come out of my intellectual state. I can feel my sharp breaths again. I can feel the iron settled in the depths of my stomach. I feel like I have missed a step going down the stairs. I feel like I have lost my keys and can’t find them. I am on edge. I could walk around and get nothing done. I am distracted thinking of everything and nothing all at one.

“Try not to get worried. Try not to turn on to problems that upset you. Everything’s alright. Yes, everything fine. And we want you to sleep well tonight. ” ( Lyrics and copyright owned by Jesus Christ Superstar)

This is my current mantra from Jesus Christ Superstar. I sing this to myself hoping that these words will calm my anxieties and fear just as this ointment is supposed to have soothed the character of Jesus in this musical.

Singing soothes me. Writing sometimes does. But when I sing I do not feel the iron in the depths of my stomach. It feels like it is turned into liquid iron ( if there is such a thing) and flows out through my voice into the universe. When I belt out those lines in the chorus Shallow from A star is born its its like it is only me and the music that exists and there is no anxiety.

a chance

I long to get closer to you
To hear every story you’ve told me yet again
To hear your voice and your laugh
Your voice that makes me so happy

I hear the ‘bing’ on my phone
Its you

You long to get closer to me
To hear every story I’ve told you yet again
To hear my voice and my laugh
My voice that makes you so happy

Suddenly, its too much for me
I can’t breathe
I feel suffocated
I want to run and run far far away
I want to be close to you and yet I can’t

What is it?
Do I fear you leaving me once I’ve bared my soul to you?

Can I slow down?
One day at a time
One conversation at a time

Is all we need time?

Is all that I need time?

Minutes, hours, days, months and years to stop feeling suffocated and exhilarated at the same time
To give myself
To give us

a chance

 

Your Angel

“Have you forgotten your Angel?”

“Wandering child
So lost
So helpless
Yearning for my guidance”

“Those pleading eyes
that threaten and adore”

Angel or Demon. The line drawn between the two would appear to be clear and yet again is it really?

He was the only one there for her.
The only one to notice her and invest in her.
She was the only one there for him.
To love him and adore him.

 

 

 

 

 

 

DD 101

As a daddyless daughter I am a survivor
It’s death not divorce or abandonment that’s the root of my malady
I stress this to try to convince myself that I am less messed up than others
I survive the death of my father
I survive the loss of my parent
I survive the betrayal and sadness and pain
I survive the conflict of feelings between the wanting of safe space sitting on my dad’s lap and the wanting to stick my tongue down the throat of a stranger
I survive the alienness of the ‘male’ figure
I survive the longing to understand how does a man think and yet never understanding
I survive the lack of hugs
I survive the ache of wanting to be respected and instead being oogled
I survive the feeling of wanting to be acknowledged and yet being ignored
I survive the feeling of wanting to share and yet being rejected
I survive and crave for the guys who dismiss me
I survive and push away the guys who want me
Is there anyone else like me? I don’t know
I survive wanting to be loved
I survive by drinking and smoking and dancing
I survive the pain
I get by
Do what I must
Laugh flirt and agree to whatever he says
Then he will want me
Then he wont leave
But then he leaves
But I like being alone
I don’t need him
I can survive
I do survive
It’s another day
And I go on breathing

Back and Forth

Scared to let my guard down
Dunno when you’ll pounce
Always on edge
When will I piss you off
Its always my fault
You can do no wrong
I am in the wrong always
Only with you
The words I speak
Provoke you
Antagonise you
Anger you
Come back to haunt me
The words you speak
Calm me
Terrorise me
A lump in my throat and I catch my breath
I cant breathe
I feel my eyes dart from side to side as I hold my breath
What will come next
What will you say that I said that you said that I did not say that you did not say
And so it goes on spinning like my head
In circles we dance
Never ending
Never stopping
I stand still and look at you
I am but a shadow
And you rage and rant on
And I say nothing
Your presence tangibly larger
Your bulk stretching out
As I get smaller and smaller until I wonder
Do I exist anymore?
Who is me?