Our silence spoke volumes.

I talked to her

('I worry about you.')

and I talked to him

('I'm sorry.')

about the things that had been worrying me the most

and I told them what I was going to tell him

and they told me what I knew I wanted to hear

and I don't know whether I'm okay or not

or if it's what I wanted.

(We went driving, and barely spoke the whole way there or back. It was the longest 5km drive of my life.)

Surface.

I could feel the waves of emotion lapping at my feet again, trying to drag me away but I could not (would not) let them. But they kept on trying, using the smallest memory of how I had once been to try and pull me under, into their cold embrace.

Two letters from forever ago: ‘love forever, Mum xx’, and ‘You will not listen to your conscience anymore. Understood?’

Two books: How To Feel and How To Be Happy.

The guilt:

“Do you remember when we went on a bike ride, back in year six or something, and I was crying?”
“Yeah, you were like “I hate life” and I was like geez, you’re only in year six.”

Lying underneath the waves looking up at the sky, the water seemed to have an almost tangible skin to it, a silver layer that made me feel apart from the rest of the world. It was like I was part of a whole other world beneath the water.

To break the surface was a difficult thing, but it was necessary as we all need to breathe sometimes.

This is my entry to this lovely blog created by the lovely Sanchez.

You are

beaches

and

bluebottles

and

night time

and

driving

and

rollercoaster roads

and

midnight

and

black water

and

bright lights

and

big rocks

and

ice cream

and

walking

and

secret

and

shooting stars

and

dingoes

and

good morning

and

company

and

comfort

and

the opposite of lonely

and

opera

and

movies

and

one in the morning

and

breakwalls

and

jeans

and

football

and

knees

and

hands

and

orange

We.

I am you. You are me.

I watch you on the screen.

Half my age and half again

I see myself, I see you.

Running and falling

And crying and singing.

I see proof of the days when living was easy.

Bunched up curls and bring blue eyes.

You stare at the camera,

But you're really staring at me.

I laugh, I cry,

You laugh, You cry.

At least a decade separates us

But we are the same thing,

Being,

Person.

I can see you but you can't see me.

Now I can only look back and try to remember.

As you look forward, and don't mean to, but forget.

                                                         here



Watched some baby videos last night. It made me nostalgic.

Night Terror

Shaking and trembling

she lies

a feeling of unease

as she falls asleep

the dream begins

and

unexplainable terrors

fill her night

falling

sobbing

she drags herself

asleep

into a corner

and cries

parents rush in

she won't be woken

screaming and crying

she wakes

but the feeling remains

she'll never forget

When I was younger, I used to have night terrors.

I would scream out, and cry and my parents would hold me as I thrashed around.

Sobbing, I would cry out for my Mum, as if I didn't know that she was right beside me.

My Mum told me that it broke my Dad's heart to have to watch and hear me crying out.

Once I had a night terror while I was staying at my Nan's.

She didn't know what to do, so she watched as I crawled out of bed, still asleep, and into a corner while I cried.
She didn't do anything.

I still remember that feeling, and it scares me when I feel it.

I don't have night terrors anymore.