Hollow Heart

That's what it feels like.

I guess when you decide to do something, and you're going to give it your all, it's bound to hurt a heck of a lot when it ends. 

Where the real challenge comes in, I'm starting to discover, is when it ends; don't fill the hollowness with bitterness. Give it time, as long as it needs. Fill it with joy, love, laughter and the newly found appreciation of yourself. 

Did I love him? I was definitely starting to! What I did do, was give him my heart, all of it, along with a signed permission slip to break it at will. Some might call that silly, but I guess you never know until you try. And that kind of trying, prevents the 'shoulda, woulda, coulda' kind of thinking. 

I gave it my all, and it wasn't good enough. And that's ok. I'm probably better off, anyways. 

(Though it definitely doesn't seem like it now, and the 'missing you' playlist I have is borderline being abused!)

Ever onward! Ever upward!

xoxo

The quiet moments...

They're what I live for. That moment when in a tangled mess of limbs, long messy hair and bare skin touching, you realize that it is inconceivable that anyone could be comfortable in that position, for very long.  

Except me, and except you. 

Because I can feel the heat of your skin, hear the beat of your heart and if I tilt my head just a little, can see the corner of your mouth lifted in a soft smile. 

Because you can feel the heat of my skin, and the beat of my heart and if you tilt your head just a little, you see my smiling eyes peeking up at you. 

And we know, that numb limbs are inevitable, but missing out on the opportunity to be this close is what is really inconceivable. 

So we stay, and remain still in those moments, hours, days. Relishing the quiet, the closeness, and the peace. 

My moments spent with you. 

Fake it till you make it

I sometimes wonder how much of yourself you lose while pretending to be something/ someone you're not.

I get the whole fake it till you make it concept. It's pretty much worked for me my entire life. That + an unhealthy dose of denial.

Lately however, every time I'm not being true to myself, specifically in the sense of feelings, it kinda feels like part of me is closing up a little every-time.

That feeling makes me kinda nervous, the possibility of becoming emotionally detached from myself (the concept seems ludicrous) & walking around in the form of a shell of my former self, that's some scary shit.

The show must go on...

I stand in the shower with the weight of a crushed life's dream on my shoulders & cry my last cry for the day. I must find a way to shoulder this disappointment without having to share it with the world.

I hide the pain in my eyes, from those who are intuitive enough to know that for me, they will always tell you everything. I hide it in a few layers of super-max luscious lash mascara. Not waterproof... not crying is not negotiable.

I hide the lifeless numb feeling I carry inside me, visible in the paleness of my always rosy cheeks. i hide it with the fake pink tinge that symbolizes happiness and a vibrancy for a life I do not want to live.

The adornments I choose, are to distract you. The sparkly stud earrings will hopefully catch your eye and keep them away from mine. I don't have the strength to explain the hopelessness you see in them.

I cream my body, imagining the armour I am covering my body with. Instead, I notice the new bruises I've been gifted with after a day spent in bed. I laugh. No longer a joyous laugh at my silly clumsiness & penchant for bumping into things, but instead a bitter one, at my body's incapacity of healing such inconsequential things & my stupidity at not realising earlier that poking yourself in the leg should not leave an angry bruise for days.

I zip up my power dress & slip on my heels. I'll add the bracelets that jingle as I walk, I want you to hear me walking down the corridor & feel happy to see me. Even if I'm not happy to see myself. The self I love, weighed down with hopelessness and shame.

Shame that I feel incapable of living up to the strength that others perceive I have, and I do not believe in anymore. Shame that I, the encourager, have no encouragement for myself. Shame that I am allowing my positivity to be overshadowed and drowned with despair. Shame that I know & recognise all this, and don't want to stop it.

Finally I square my shoulders with the resolve that, even though I think I'm incapable of beating this right now, nobody else can ever believe the same. Resolve that only very few people will know how powerless I really feel.

The rest of the world will see me as they always have, Strong, Happy, Vivacious Mel.

Not the Mel dying of cancer.

This show
Must
Go on.