What will they say of me when I die?

What will they say of me when I die? Will anyone remember scar that runs across my nose? Will anyone comment and then laugh at the story behind it? Will someone say, “There goes A.R.R, the jumper of beds, the laugher of tickles, the lover of gerberas which aren’t sunflowers although she’d often confuse the two.” Will there be a bitter sweet eulogy? Will there be someone whose secret desire for me causes their body to jerk and tears to run and personal sounds to be so loud that others will look and wonder about the secret meanings behind it all. Or will the only people who are genuinely grief stricken
be my parents? Will they cry because their love was so deep that grew into something tangible, something attached to their heart like a small tumor but more healthy, more alive. Or will they cry because they never got the apology they so much desired, felt they deserved? Will they cry because they never got a chance to forgive, to say re-assuring things, to be the parents who were betrayed but so easily loved, to be the parents they’ve always wanted to be? Will I have a lover by then? Someone who’ll remember the secrets I whispered under the covers, who’ll remember the form my body took as bursts or electricity flew through it. Or will those secrets be lost to the covers of lonely nights? Of heart-aching loneliness whose only remedy was self appreciation? Will I have children by then? Perhaps a daughter who would be scared, the way children are, of routine changing, of the world turning upside down. “Is mommy coming back?” “But then.....who’s going to read me my bed time stories? She did the voices.” Will she have my smile? The same dark eyes with mysteries hiding behind them? Or will she only be the inheritor of my odd actions, a child conceived with a turkey baster and forbidden love? Or perhaps her fate lay elsewhere, a flower plucked from its dying roots, watered and cared for by two idealistic hippies who felt that they were one step closer to saving the world. Will someone standing in the crowd remember me as the person who held their hand and guided them of the ledge? Or will they be there to see my face one last time, to make sure that it’s done, to smile at the dead body of the bitch that deserved it. Will I have any thoughts before my soul rises towards the light, not ready for judgment but having to face it nonetheless? Let’s get this over with, eternal damnation or eternal paradise? Will I be so upfront in death? Something I never managed to achieve with blood running through my veins. Will my life flash before my eyes? A child hiding behind her bedroom door too scared to see where all the shouting is coming from, where the sounds of pots and pans hitting a wall are coming from. A close to overweight adolescent whose baggy clothes cover the curves that lie underneath and the two chest bumps that brought too much attention. A close to obese teenager whose oily skin and untidy hair highlighted the fragile flesh underneath, a cry for help, for love. Finally, an adult who finally found those things she so desperately desired, the love, the sadness, the infinite joy before life cruelly betrayed her and made a deal with death. I’ll trade you this one.

Contradictions

I promise to love you forever, yet I falter at the first step.
What does this say of me?
Where do my morals stand?
I promise to be there when you cry, yet hesitate when I see you walk by.
And these contradictions that fill my life are slowly eating me up inside.
For the things I wish I were and the place where I stand, are but eons apart.
I fly yet cannot firmly plant myself on land.
What does this say of me?
Who have I become?

Dreams and Secrets

Silhouettes of dreams mock me.
They linger long after you’re gone.
They talk of happiness, of passion, of joy, of love ever lasting.
They bring smiles of babies and cries of children.
They mock my desire for you, the passion that burns through me, warming my body on cold nights.
For you are my sun, my rain, my tangible and intangible.
You are my happy ending and my sadness.
You are the song I sing and the secret I keep.
You are my all and my nothing.
All at once my best friend and a stranger.

Disspointment

Dissapointment.
Its bitter taste.
Consuming every fiber of you.
Pouring failure through your soul.
Licking at your feet.
Pulling you bellow the surface.
Shadows of 'could have beens' and 'should have beens' lurking around each corner.
Not good enough.
Not good enough.
NOT GOOD ENOUGH!
But above all, not brave enough.
Goodbye lonely road, no victim be I today.

Passing By

Dreams.
Coloured with Hopes and Failures.
Coloured with Tears and Spilled Love.
Forgotten Strangers.
Who said more than you ever did.
Who made more of an Impact.
Who spoke to the soul of me.
Goodbye these awkward silences.
Goodbye To You.
Goodbye to all the things I knew.
I do this for them.
For me.

Saying Goodbye

What is it about saying goodbye that's so difficult? I mean, even if something we should say goodbye to, we still get all sad about it. The tears roll. The depression starts. Suddenly the only way to claw you way back into society is to down a few extra large slabs of chocolate while singing 'All by myself' (not that I would know...I swear...okay, it only happened once....five times). But seriously, what is about saying goodbye that's just so hard? Even if we say goodbye to people, there's emails, letters, skype, live chat. The opportunities to stay in touch are endless.

But you know what? I think I've cracked down on this whole goodbye thing. I think we have trouble saying goodbye because we're scared of what's waiting around the corner. We're scared of failing, scared to loose our security blanket. But the thing is, if we don't dare to seek, how will we find?

I think that's the same thing with relationships. I know we all convince ourselves that it's some aspect of a person we miss. Perhaps their smell or their touch or the way they kiss us. But are those aspects of a relationship really worth the pain we go through? Maybe they are. Perhaps I'm wrong to think that better opportunities await us around the corner.

There's one thing that I know for sure though. When we say goodbye to something or someone, we truly realise their value. Either way, whether we loose them or not, we'll know for sure if they're worth going back to. And if things don't work out, it doesn't mean life is over, it just means that tommorow is another day for a brand new begining with new things and new people to say hello and goodbye to.