I can’t even remember a time when I can say that I felt real happiness— the genuine kind where I can keep it in my mind and revisit it every time I need a place to feel safe. But I always remember the time that I cried so hard every night and the time that my heart got crushed into pieces, I have kept memories of those kind, that I feel like sadness is my safe place and it will be all I’ll ever have.
I wrote a bunch of poetry back in 2017, it was all over the place. So, I finally retrieved it from my old broken laptop and some were from my old journal pages that I may have forgotten about.
This was written in the early months during quarantine. It has been sitting out in my drafts for quite some time now. I was just waiting for the perfect time and courage to publish this, and I was reflecting on the last post that I did couple of days ago for suicide prevention month. I kind of need to “walk the talk”, by sharing my story.
Writing has been my friend for a long time now and what I love most about it is how there are different styles of doing it, making every writer different from each other.
I’m currently thinking about my love for poetry. If you have been following this blog for quite some time, you might already know how I am a sucker for poetry, and that is why poetry blogs are instant follow for me. I love puzzle solving, I love dissecting writings, especially poetry when there are thousands of meanings behind it. And that is why I also enjoy constructing poetry. I am not really good at explaining my thoughts and emotions but I am good at hiding it lol. And that is what you can do with poetry, with just a few words you can take it how you want it. When you’re a reader of poetry, you can interpret it in your own words and thoughts. There’s no right or wrong explanation to it, unless the writer itself reveals it which most poets usually don’t reveal the true meaning of their poetry. From that, I got more comfortable in writing and opening up without going in full details. I can use any figure of speech and hide my emotions well in it. That is why poetry to me is expressing unexpressed emotions and saying unsaid thoughts. It’s quite fulfilling to create something and share it but still having your own meaning to it, it’s being open but also keeping something to yourself.
I’m leaving this post with a little poetry that I finished along side this blog post. Let me know your thoughts about it and I hope you’ll like it 🙂
You have seen the thousand sides of me like room full of mirrors, confusing to see. Wider spectrum of personas and moods, rushing to be seen and to be understood. I may ripped the walls that was vandalised but it will never cover up all the told lies that was lived in life like it was the truth, damaged and messed up my entire youth. You have seen it all from different sides what is inside my mind, I will confide. One trusted friend of my intricate living, there you’ll be, the legacy of my being.
For all of you reading this, what is poetry to you? Share it in the comments. 😊
Let me tell you a story about a girl named Jessica. Jessica had to grow up fast, she lived in a broken home with a parents’ love that didn’t last. At only 8 years old, she had to think about her future and not the kind of dream of what she wanted to be when she’s older but the kind where how was she going to prove herself and steered clear of others prediction of her future as a lost cause like her parents was.
She grew up being a good girl, obeying rules, and living up to society’s standards. She graduated with honors, got a job at a well-known conglomerate. Jessica became successful or so she thought.
Jessica thought when she’s finally “successful” in her career, and when she’s financially stable, she’s going to be happy. She’s got everything except the love and care that she craved for from her parents when she was little.
No matter how hard she tried to fix the damage her parents did to her, she cannot find a way to forget and mend herself from it. After everything that she went through, after all the successes that she accomplished, the wound is still open.
Jessica is now in her 30’s, she’s got everything. She can buy anything that she wants. Jessica is sufficing everything that she lacked when she was young, she dreamt of this yet, she goes home everyday at an empty big home, all alone.
The story of Jessica shows how parents affect a child. I’m no psychologist but parents don’t know how traumatic it is for a kid, growing up in a broken home and with so little love. Jessica is just an example of someone having a great mindset to deal with her situation, she persevere to become successful while others in her situation develops severe mental illness, and some just throw their life away because they believed that they were brought out into the world unwanted. I hope people understand that a child absorbs everything that their family do and don’t do. Everything that they do to their child, will forever be instilled in them until they become a parent as well.
All of us didn’t choose to be born, we are here because two people had libido and we’re the outcome. These two people decided for us and we are their consequences and we’ll carry it for the rest of our lives.
From time to time, I will tell you a story about things I picked up throughout life that has some lessons, inspirations, motivation, or just plainly stories I would like to share with you. 😊