Not an Oracle

Breaking out of the habit is the hardest thing you can do. Leaving the comfort and safety of what you already know is not an easy feat. But this is the only way to truly live; to drink up the new and open your arms to opportunities before they perish on the vine. Grow wise and be cautious but walk on that ledge and immerse yourself in the sights. The bright, bright lights and the biting breeze. The raw freedom that comes with taking a risk.

This is how life should be.

Shatter your preconceptions and never assume anything. Never take anything for granted and love like it will never last. Because it never will. Celebrate the small things and take time to look up at the stars and the sun and the moon because the answers come when we tilt our heads upwards. Connect your feet to the ground and walk wherever you can. Make that connection between your body and the land, like it was always meant to be. Be outside and live outside of yourself. The truth will come to you that way. Stretch away anything that holds you back and learn to let things go.

That is how it needs to be.

The shakiness of my hands matches the tremble in my voice.

I am the walking stitched-up skin-sack filled with hollow brittle bones you see walking on the street. The flimsy bamboo shoot melody as they clink and clank with each forced footstep.

Heart as large as the moon. Gulping bowling-ball sized mouthfuls of air except it no longer tastes like air any more. Surgical. It is merely a desperate clinging for survival and my god... why is my heart racing so much? 'You're a man.' He said, 'men don't behave like this, quit complaining, snap out of it and get back in the game.'

I can see my atoms structured only with empty vessels of frenzy and perspiration. Molecules weakened by years of thinking a particular way. There's a heaviness pressing down, pinned by a shadow with a body as strong as ten men. Why is my heart battling my ribcage like a child kicking a ball against the wall? Thud, skid, thud, thud, skid.

And with each breath, the world collapses in on itself and the electricity that surges through my nervous system causes nothing but convulsions and shivers of biblical proportions. I've never felt so hot and so cold at the same time.

Walking like a drunk through the streets lined with litter and decomposing broken hearts.

You stole my voice yet again.

The words will not form. Not today. Maybe tomorrow. Except you stole the concept of hope a long time ago when you first wrapped your wrinkled, bony arms around me that time I could not scrub myself clean. The water ran red.

I thought you were a lesson I had to learn but I now know that you are just a curse I need to bury deep down in those fields of grey. The 3 am whispers must be put to bed and your clinical clawing has to cease.

The battle must be won.

They chew you up and spit you out and you're left to face the rest on your own. So don't let them. It's often difficult to face the daily battles especially when the world is drained of any colour and all you can see is various tones of grey and the drizzle clings to your pale, clammy skin like unwanted kisses. But you have to dig out that old battered rain coat and wear it with pride. You've got to manufacture your own sunlight and you've got to learn how to pulverise that grey sky until it gives you a little colour. Even if it means beating the absolute shit out of it. It has to come at all costs. They might not know about the turmoil and they might not understand that the prospect of putting your shoes on and greeting the day comes with its own challenges. It isn't their fault. It takes a little time to solve the crossword puzzle especially when you are aren't given any clues. Three across: A bitter pill to swallow. Nine down: Another word for dusk. We're not machines, we're not programmed to react and respond in a particular way. If you hand me a pen I can't guarantee that I won't write a love note or an instruction manual on how to fool the world. Maybe I will just settle with a list of apologies or I will tell you about the time I hid under the bed for three hours too afraid to move. The ones who wait are the ones you should keep. Remember their names and remember their birthdays, the small details are often the most important. And if you can wait for someone else then they will remember your birthday too. It's all about the details, the simple things, the way we connect. And if we can apologise to the world and know that it's true, then let it be. Let it swallow you whole and rock you to sleep. Let it consume you even if it is just for one brief, sweet moment. They might not notice that you left the room but they sure will notice when you make your return. Don't forget their names. They won't forget yours.