So last year, I decided to post all of my Escapril poem on my blog after wanting to do so in the previous year. This year, I will be doing the same so feel free to check back on this post or follow me on Instagram to see my post (hopefully) every day!
Day One: EgoSometimes I find myself in the clouds.
Like a balloon,
Unbridled, untouchable, unreachable.
Being pulled into space.
Going up, up, up.
But something happens.
Maybe a miracle,
Maybe a sign,
Maybe something more simple.
The air goes out.
Until I look around.
See who's there.
I am still.
I am here.
I am rooted to the solid ground.
When I was younger,
Everyone told me that I could be great.
That I could escape the town that I lived in.
That I could be a dreamer.
That I could be better.
That I could be different.
When I was younger I believed that.
I would go to university.
I would be free.
I would be able to succeed.
But something changed.
I was finally there.
To somewhere new.
To my fantasy.
And when I was there,
I wasn't the best.
I wasn't the worse.
I was somewhere in between.
The deep feeling in the pit of my stomach,
That calls me every second of the day.
A slow whisper,
Awakening me from the dead of night.
We have to make hard decisions.
We know they are for the best,
But we know they can be full of regret.
But we have to live with them.
Some days they might consume our mind.
Other days they lay dormant,
Waiting for us to find.
But we will always be haunted.
By the unwanted thoughts.
Here's what I remember:
Wanting to push you closer.
Where everyone's heart beats to the same rhythm.
Hearing the pinnacle of the film,
The audience so quiet you can hear a pin drop.
Now I'm worried we will never again know normalcy.
Discarded just forgotten memories.
I read books.
Do the things that make me, well me.
But there comes a time where I feel the loneliness creep in.
I feel it drag me down into a dark abyss.
Anxiety notices though.
Two warring thoughts.
That push and pull.
Every which way.
Most of the time.
I am l(on)e(ly) still.
I bare my truth,
This is easy.
Bearing my soul.
All that haunts me.
That's the hard part.
The void of worry.
The thoughts that spiral in my mind.
The ones that I run from.
No one should know them.
Bearing my naked soul.
That's true vulnerability.
Leaving no gaps.
Leaving no missing segment unturned.
But it doesn't quite work.
You are a kaleidoscope.
Random bits and bobs.
That makes you who you are.
Too complex for me to understand.
Too confusing for the greatest minds that ever lived.
But something tells me,
You know exactly what makes you tick.
My thoughts go round and round and round.
Going this way and that.
Never quite grasping on one thought, one memory, one idea.
Loud, piercing, non-stop.
Sometimes it focuses on another thought.
Sometimes it goes back.
It can't escape the cycle.
So it continues.
Always trying to find a way out.
But it remains stuck.
Forever and always.
As I drown in my thoughts,
My tears ricochet.
As I reflect on the change,
That has occurred since I was fifteen.
I was a whole world away,
The best days since ahead or in the past.
So I'm worried about her.
As the nostalgia must have crept through her veins,
As it did mine.
Out of the deep, dark woods,
The ghosts of herself and her lovers.
I believe that she must have been fearless.
To know that this moment will be remembered.
Forever and Always.
When the dots slowly come into place.
When it all starts to make sense.
When the time seems to pause.
When the anxiety finally stops.
The whole world passing me by.
As my life remains still.
Everyone finding themselves.
But I am just here.
Doing the monotonous skills to keep me alive.
For days, months on end.
Feeling like I am wasting myself.
Because challenging myself is too hard.
Because I am safe.
Because I don't want to take risks.
Because I'm comfortable.
For a person who does not want to die.
Thinking about the life beyond.
Thinking about what happens after.
Thinking about where we go.
If anywhere at all.
Most of the time,
I push it down.
Don't think about it.
Because I want nothing more than to be alive.
When I was younger the wishbone was the holy grail.
Sunday nights and Christmas,
Centred around chicken.
My sister and I would always want the wishbone.
Wishing that we would get the right half.
Waiting for the snap.
Getting the bigger half always meant something.
Because as a child,
A wish meant everything.
Transport has been a distant memory.
No planes, trains and limited automobiles.
Instead a reliance on ourselves.
Walking, talking and marauding.
Feeling nature breathe as yours does.
Working in perfect harmony.
But this only gets you so far.
To go further,
To explore more.
To discover somewhere new.
We must use other means.
But sometimes it's good to look around.
See what you have.
Which is better,
For the girl who gets motion sick.
Nature was special.
I longed for the days when I would birdwatch.
Seeing larks, hawks and the occasional eagle.
The birds were free.
Able to do whatever they want.
Whenever they want.
They weren't special.
Millions of them.
Amongst the rain and the wind.
Not in paradise.
But they meant the world to me.
In every person lays the desire for power.
It remains dormant until you need it.
More importantly, it needs you.
Ready for the power to come out.
Blazing everything alight in its wake.
No one walks away from power.
However much you try.
It will destroy you.
I know the feeling.
Sweat trickling down my face.
Heart beating fast.
120 beats per minute.
Thoughts in my head fighting.
Alight in my brain.
Like a battleground.
And it won't stop.
I want it to stop.
But it won't stop.
It won't stop.
It won't st-
I never know what will reflect.
Some days it's good.
I see a woman.
The other days it is like looking through a microscope.
Every pore on show.
Every flaw magnified.
Every imperfection there.
And I hate it.
I quickly look away.
And hope tomorrow is better.
Life is sometimes stranger than fiction.
The pandemic outbreak in your favourite sci-fi book,
You would think I was lying,
If I told you in 2018 that we communicated through screens,
You wouldn't believe me.
And what about those dystopian books,
Where the government tracks you.
We do that with devices in our pockets.
And that dictator in history?
Leading a first-world nation.
They tell you to love at first sight exists.
But sometimes romance doesn't exist at all.
There must be a glitch,
In the matrix.
Something happened in a hitch.
Going back to the basics.
But instead, it just switches,
Trying to find the traces.
Finding the bridges.
But it just falls from graces.
With all the misses.
Taking up the spaces.
It knows what a mess this is.
There was a glitch,
In the matrix.
I can feel it.
As it pulses through my veins.
Tells me that I need to have it.
But however much I try,
The shape gets further and further and further away.
I am defeated.
Knowing that I can never get there.
Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.
The clock is there.
Reminding us that our time on earth is limited.
We must do everything.
In our best years.
Even as the limits are bound.
We can't let anything stop us.
Even if the world is on fire.
Day 24: crossroads
I feel like I am at a crossroads.
In one than one direction.
I feel a pull towards all of them.
24 still feels young.
Although people tell me otherwise.
I just don't want this to be it.
I want chances.
So I stand at the crossroads.
So much that I do nothing at all.
I think I see you.
The blur in the clouds.
It reminds me of your smile.
I think this a lot though.
That one pied wagtail at work.
The one that is always there.
It's comforting to know,
That you are always there.
Day 26: nothing more beautiful
There is nothing more beautiful than:
Early morning sunrises,
Late nights with golden hour.
The light of the rainbow dancing across the sky.
Touching, hugs and hot tea.
Being in the company of friends.
Warm cakes, belly laughs and the comfort of dancing like no one are watching.
The familiarity of home comforts and family.
Crying because you're happy, sad or both.
For making me feel completely and utterly alive.
A rush of blood and adrenaline.
To remind me that this is real and I am still here.
Day 27: ink
The ink pours out of me,
From the deep of my soul.
Bleeding on the page.
Revealing my darkest secrets.
Ready to be concealed.
Ready for another day.
At the dead of night.
Eyes wide open.
Heart on high alert.
Repeating on a loop.
Reminding me of my pain.
Extremely different but both enticing.
Both with an invisible string drawing me in.
Both and positive and negatives.
Both want me there.
But I know I have to decide.
But I don't know if I ever will.
When I ever will.
Day 29: goodbye
Something that you spent your every waking moment thinking about?
Something that you adore with every fibre of your being?
Something that has made you the person you are today?
How do you move on?
How do you start something new?
How do you finally say goodbye?
How do you let go?
Day 30: even now, after everything
I remember the real you.
Untouched, unloved and uncompleted.
Your paint peeling off.
But you were mine.
Now my mind is fading.
Memories like puzzle pieces.
That I have to put back together.
I know it won't be perfect.
But you have never been so.
You were always unwanted.
But you were still mine.
When I see you again,
I'm not sure I will recognise you.
Too many changes made.
Even though you were once mine.