My Heroine Pretend

I think it’s funny how people come to view you if they haven’t really looked to see behind the surface world. Recently an old friend told me that he thought I’d hated him and the other boys that were in our friend group.

Maybe it seemed that way to them because I was a prickly, defensive thing (I still am when I want to be), but they have to admit they made fun of me quite a bit. All I was doing was reacting to that in my own way – protecting myself. I always have done. I’ve always had reason to.

It wasn’t anything to do with hating them. I never had reason to hate them.

I disliked them sometimes. And I knew one of them hated me (he still seems to though I have been nothing but friendly when our paths have crossed… but his views on things differ to mine and I know I will never be accepted in his book). But I have never hated them.

Fair enough, I thought they were prats sometimes, though I think even they will admit they were. But hate? No.

I knew I was an easy target back then and I’m fairly sensitive when it comes to things. Anything that ever came off as me ‘hating’ them was simply me trying to protect myself from turning into another joke to everyone. And I know they didn’t understand me and that that’s probably why I felt singled out sometimes.

I don’t let all my thoughts be known face to face. A lot of the stuff that goes on inside my head is a complicated mess. Sometimes I’m not even sure of it myself – resulting in mood swings that I can’t explain right away because I don’t know how to convey them verbally. Give me a piece of paper and a pen, though, and I’ll work it out.

Usually in poetry.

Speaking of which, here’s some poetry I wrote recently on my tumblr:


One taste. One taste; is all I ask.
No, I cannot take it back.
One kiss. Two lips. A fumble through.
If only this I could do;
But I know, I’d ask for more –
Feelings all uncovered and raw.
If only thoughts I could stay
But my hopes will run away 
In a bubbling over of silly glee
That the world should never see.
I’d want too much that you won’t give;
A sad mistake for us both to live. 
And so I’ll keep my jaded heart.
Lock it up. Let’s not spoil our part.


Falling Stars

There are days when I think I’m getting there
And there are days when I am not. 
There are days I call stumbling,
Everything below is rumbling,
It is all turning to rot.
We keep going. We breathe. 
We understand the holes in us.
We learn what it is to leave. 
Turning to the chapter where
We will understand the dark.
We hope there is a sailing boat
On which we finally can embark.
To take our last adventure,
Skimming fingers in the sea,
And feel innocence escaping us
With the world’s weighty gravity. 
All this knowledge on our heads.
All these things that we have read. 
They burn away our youthful dreams
And leave billowing cobwebs instead. 
Can’t run from it. Can’t escape. 
All this growing up we do,
This soul destroying mistake.
It seems we’re only adults when
Our stars fall from the skies. 
It seems we’re only adults when
Our hearts are broken in our eyes. 
“If this is growing up,” I said,
“I’d rather not at all.
If only someone could love me
Enough to keep me very small.”
But love is just the problem.
A veritable curse.
It fills us up with naivety 
And leaves us with a hearse. 
I lost my innocence one day.
Not the way that you might think. 
Someone took my star away
And turned my sky to ink. 
Now love is but a fool to me
And hearts a long lost thing.
Words hold all feeling dead
Like the singer forgot to sing. 
I took my last adventure.
I held the rudder tight.
I hoped that I would make it through
But all I found was plight. 
The Hope it dashed upon the rocks
And fell to sleep below 
The heady waves of adulthood 
Were the only place left for us to go.


A thought

I wish I didn’t love you the way I do.
I wish I wasn’t sad when I think of you.


Tumblr Inbox

Of your thoughts I don’t know much
So moving with your cursor touch 
The ask box on my tumblr page
& unleash your questions from their cage.


Too much.

Is it too much to want your heart,
Your hope, your love, your breath? 
Is it too much to give my heart,
My hope, my love, my breath?


Love On a Four Leafed Clover

I hold you stiff and still;
You have stolen my will.
Your pressure on my shoulder
Bows me, makes me older,
Like a hand drawn silhouette
Doused in diluted vinaigrette, 
Sour to the taste.
We are human waste. 
We are undisclosed
And all predisposed
To hate. 
Sometimes I wonder if we are all
Too late. 
All this anger shapes us,
Bludgeons and rapes us
With its insufferable need 
To burn up our every seed
Of hope and misplaced trust 
With dark hearts and rotting lust. 
Copious and too much,
Love cannot bear the crutch 
Of holding us in, 
When our bodies are taught to sin - 
Not against God and His health,
But against our true self. 
We are taken over
By superstition at best. 
Write ‘love’ on a four leafed clover 
And just hope for the best. 

*Title lyrics are from Piazza New York Catcher by Belle and Sebastian

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