A submission of mine published on online magazine, ITCH - an online hub for creatives, simply asking to submit pieces, in which art who dabble, according to a theme set by the editor.
Read and enjoy :) Comment if you must.
Wrote this to ‘Fix You’ by Colplay
Just played the song and pen and paper happened…
When you try your best, but that smile summoned from a deep-seated place within is all that lays on the surface. You’re wearing your best one, dressed up and ready to cheer up those around you with what’s really an empty, feigned happiness. When your eyes are stinging from shedding so many tears and from your soul receiving no rest. Because, even when you’re tired, so tired that all you want to do is lay your head down, to sleep, but you can not. And your body pains and it’s weary, your mind is lacklustre and your speech is forced.
You need fixing.
When you don’t want to tread around your words and build up metaphors to get them to comprehend your plight and you choose to rather be quiet, to be still about it. Anxiety is building up in your bloodstream, like iron, and you feel it in climbing into your bones, it’s escalating, reaching a crescendo until it collapses to a melancholic state - something they’d call ‘depression’ in some far away clinic. You’ve learnt to deal with these bouts of overwhelming underwhelming feelings, they’re familiar to you now, natural, they’re all part of the package.
When you’ve got the support of dear loved ones but still, in the trenches of your being, it’s not enough.
You need fixing.
When new friends awkwardly fumble about when they learn about your humanness. When they assume a tequila shot or many lined up will resolve the unsettling in the pit of your stomach and all you can do is spew its contents from your gut when it fails, again, to solve anything. When you know about and know of others, many others, who are walking the same, winding and dusty roads as you - you realise the prevalence of it all. What has befallen us? Tears stain our faces. It could be worse. We could be apathetic.
"My riches consist not in the extent of my possessions, but in the fewness of my wants."
— Joseph Brotherton (via myquotelibrary)
(via myquotelibrary)
I’ve been up for exactly 24 hours. Surprisingly, I’m not hallucinating, yet, from days of continuous lack of sleep. I’m just really happy that I’ve finally completed my IR Article Analysis. That’s one assignment down and three to go, all in the space of seven days. With tests here and there. Oh, joy.
Wish me luck. *yawn*
My twitter - my little sand box.
Currently reading: The God of Small Things
I absolutely love how Arundhati Roy writes with such poetic splendour. Love, absolutely.
I haven’t posted on my blog in eons, I know, I’ve been head under water with everything from literature to economics to politics. It’s real hard not being able to hardly squeeze in a session of hearty-poetry-piece writing.
Anyway, this is me procrastinating, let me get back to my academia. As soon as the heaviness of all my deadlines have lifted, I’ll be sure to write some wonderful prose to post.
Take care :-)
I tweeted last night about how I need to tap into my higher consciousness. I have an overwhelming feeling of heaviness around me on this level I’m at right now. My body and mind are calling at my front door for me to light some candles, burn incense and bask in some aloneness.
Iyanla Vanzant wrote in her book ‘Peace from Broken Pieces’ about how we cannot practice, whatever it is you’re practising, part-time while expecting full-time results. And that is exactly where I find myself at present, a part-time practitioner - I must, and I stress this, make time for everything.
And I know, when all this upheaval is over there will be plenty beauty to find there for me.
