Welcome Back..?

So I am back here after a good 4 years.

Now in these four years much has happened to me, with me, and by me. And if you're still on this journey with me you'll be able to pick up the pieces and help me put myself back together.

I have completed my degree.
I have experienced the sights and sounds of Montreal and now my heart can't think of any other place I would rather be.
I have gained about 20kgs.
I have lost about 20 really close friends.
I have moved back home.

And I have learnt that the world according to me is still messed up. But now I also now, I am a little more messed up than I was hoping to be.

Be

To be or not to be was never the question. It was meant to be, to be me or not to be me. 

Someone tells me to be me. And then someone says don't be me. So what do I end up to be?

Being you never does work out unless it's a crappy rom-com movie and your goofy/dorky but unbelievably cute prince charming loves you for being you. Even if the you you're being is just not the you that you actually may be.

Is there a button I should press somewhere in my head to not be the me I am being? 

Charades

She walks with her head held high, 

But what's missing is the spark in her eyes, 

Her heels click and her jacket shines. 

The hair is so perfect and so is her smile. 

Mirror staring back is the only witness

All she craves is less of this bitterness

She powders her nose and pinches her cheeks 

All smiles for the camera when the girls say cheese 

She feels an itch, but she cant scratch it 

Her body aches but still she dances 

The whiskey and water, that most boys wont dare 
She laughs loud and pretends to care

She has to be strong because she cant cry

Tears just don't come to her eyes 

A drag of her Malboro

She is good to go

A conversation snippet here and there but she is too lost in her mind to care. Her cigarette's ash falls on the new dress. She doesn't give a damn because its not real. If it burnt her soul, she would feel it, but its just the clothes and she has more. She notices, when they notice her not noticing the burn, and quickly calls herself clumsy.

How much can make them enjoy her company? Its all an act and it may just be the final scene. She doesn't belong in her mind, let alone here. Why are the lights so bright and the girls with too much makeup? 

Casually, they remind her, 

You're one of us and not a stranger. 

She doesn't know what more to do, like a ticker on a time bomb, her head is ready to explode.

She is not afraid to say anything on her mind, yet at times she is tongue-tied. That's who she is and has always been. But is she still that now? All she wants is to let go and live free but she is a prisoner inside her own body. A faint scar under her chin, her fingers touche it and move back to flip her hair. Its like her brain is playing games with her. 

Not a look, not a murmur
Not a single one around her can know it's back
Her eyes scream but her lips curve up
She is scared, so she keeps it locked up 


Laughing so hard, it makes those tears finally come to her eyes. She covers them up by calling him funny. He takes a bow and asks her to dance, she politely refuses and points to her friend. 

She is afraid, her soul will slip through with her jokes and laughter. It is a strained cry of despair. 

The night is young so she shuts herself off, pretending, again this time, that this is where she belongs. 

But she needs to save herself, before she falls down again because now she knows it's only herself messing with her head.

We learn to hate before we learn to love. At least thats what I feel.

A child cries at his birth because we steal from him the world he knew for so long and put him in a place he does not know, a place where he may be safer and grow and conceive a child of his own. Yet, he isn't safe. Not at his birth and not at his death. Because the world isn't a safe place. Theres too much hate.

Is it even possible to learn to hate? What is hate? How do we collect that rage that boils inside us, enough to annihilate the universe and label it to be hate?

We realize the monstrosity inside us and let it hold us tight without a fight. The unknown existence of it is buried deep in the layers in our hearts and the realization pushes it to the surface. The bubble of our sanity bursts all around us engulfing everyone who surrounds us and everyone who cares and everyone who just wants to do good. But does anyone really want to do any good?

God made man in his own image. Yet we are no gods in our existences. We fight, we burn, we cry and we never think good for others. Self motivated. Manipulative. Self centered.

If there is a God, which at times i do hope there is, he wouldn't have made us like this would he?