Hi guys, how are we doing? It’s been too long, i know and I am really sorry. Your girl has had a rough couple of weeks coupled with some intense writer’s block. That being said, I have learnt too much in the past few weeks that I am more than willing to share almost all of it, but ayy, its one at a time right? So don’t worry, I’ll try to make up for the lost time and leave you, hopefully, feeling inspired. Oh, that reminds me, I have finally successfully merged my 2 blogs together (Evainspired and this one right here). Can i get a whoop whoop? Lol. Majorly because keeping up with the two was stress and your girl is lowkey lazy. So feel free to explore the menu’s content and find posts from both there and here. Phew! Now that all the announcements are out of the way, let us get right into today’s business. Shall we? *clears throat* It’s a poem i wrote, and its a bit lengthy but please, indulge me.
My mind is a carcass
Shrouded in an abyss of nothingness
Searching in vain for something, anything that I can hold on to.
My brain is like a prison of its own, flogging me with whips of my own design and making.
Saggy dresses of shame and humiliation hanging loosely from my shoulders
Giving myself sparse morsels of condemnation and unnecessary arguments on a dirty platter with no consolation to top it up
Its no wonder that I feel so empty.
There’s merely nothing left of me, nothing left to give
But like I said, this is merely my inner struggle. It is within but not without its effects.
It shows in my reaction to the people who try to look out for me.
It shows in my trust issues, I get up at least three times at night from noises that are only a figment of my imagination.
It shows each time I eat, I heap my plate in an attempt to drown my noisy mind, or sometimes, i eat too little for imagination, because, no appetite.
It shows when you look at me, but you don’t see it because you’re too busy paying attention to my many other distractions
It shows, you just don’t see it. Its there, underneath the finesse of covering and apparel that I have used to disguise it trying to make up for all the places that I know I fall short.
And each time, I hear the voice in my head, “Congratulations, you just played yourself”
Except, its not a game to me, im not trying to pull stunts, or play games. This is serious business, ignore that I try to pay it too little attention. I’m not playing games.
Or am i? I’m not sure anymore
I’m scared but at the same time, I’m tired. I know what I must do, I’m tired. I give up, I give up.
Looking up, your eyes pierce mine… Gentle as always
Filled with expressions that words can’t fully describe.
Your eyes well up with tears and I recoil as I can’t tell if its sorrow or pity. Why exactly are you crying?
You take my hands ever so lovingly, your touch sends a thousand chills up my spine but I can only feel it in my vertebrae.
The warmth of your hands become my wall of Jericho, banishing all doubts and crippling all guilt.
But the wall of Jericho fell down flat. And you, you crushed my walls when finally, ever so softly, you open your mouth to speak.
“Come” It was so soft that I could feel it penetrate through my skin.
I almost wanted to scream “Leave me alone”
But for some reason that was beyond my understanding, my lips were gummed shut. I was tired of running and fighting a battle that clearly, I was losing.
And so I surrendered, I let go and allowed the unseen overtake me.
And in that moment, as my last breath escaped my lips, I understood perfectly, the tale of the phoenix.
I had to burn, and die. I needed to die, to be reborn.
I had to die, die to self. For he gives beauty for ashes. I had to burn, till there was nothing left of me.
Understanding that, I surrendered my demons, lest they over take me.
Today’s lesson: Yes, there’s always a lesson to learn. I wrote this poem reflecting on the phoenix. Trying to reflect on its final thoughts before it’s death. Did it know that it would rise again, more beautiful than before? Did the burns hurt? Was it anticipating death? We all have our own demons, but whatever your struggle is, its okay to be at the end of yourself. When a masterpiece is to be created, it is not patched up when a mistake is made, it is not even repaired, it is smashed up and broken to pieces. The potter lets it falls apart only to rebuild it from scratch. You can stop struggling now, its time to come to the end of yourself. Surrender! This was one of the most vital lessons i learnt in my time away.