Dealing with ghosts

His hair was rough, wiry even. Like a Scottish terrier’s the strands scratched my chin as I nestled against his head, his breaths coming even and controlled against my chest. His hands, smaller than yours and more delicate, the fingers long and beautiful, an artist’s hands but still a man’s rested softly against my back, one cupping my shoulder blade and the other pressed against the hollow. I closed my eyes and thought of you. The darkness in the room reminded me of the darkness in which you kissed my neck. The way he does now and as someone else will do from now on. It will never be you again.

I can’t say I miss you, truly I don’t. My love for you died about the time you ghosted me, that final unspoken message sinking into the depth of a heart long broken by your inability to love fully. By the way you crushed me beneath your cold pride and your ego threw that last shovel of dirt over the grave of our relationship. How that cut hurt when I poured salt into it, the pain of its sting lasting for a day, then two. Then gone, just like that. It’s amazing how fast anger heals more than melancholic remembrances. 

He cups my cheek in his hand and I sigh into the warmth that is both alien and home. For a moment I can barely tell the difference between the two, the reality of his hand on my skin and the mirage memories of yours touching me the same way. For a moment, I forget to breathe. He is clumsy still, a pup compared to your precision and your knowledge in bed. But he will learn. He is gentle and unsure, a combination I loved once, the good boy learning how to be bad. 

Taming a monster is never a challenge I back down from and God knows I’ve paid the price many times over now. Six to be exact. But this one has a beautiful soul that’s maybe just as broken as mine. The longing that rolls off his skin is a mesmerizing thing. It’s so heavy in the air till it seeps into my lungs; his yearning for human touch is addictive. I remember the way my skin remembers things. First kisses and awkward hugs that turned into breathless passionate stolen moments. He will remember this the way my skin does. Skin memory never forgets.

My mouth on his and I don’t taste you anymore. The taste of his lips, the shape of his tongue; there’s so much to explore again, so much I’ve forgotten in the time I was with you and things were routine, habitual. He learns to kiss me the way you used to do, and the way the rest did before you. He will learn yet. Lips closed, slowly, gently touch and let go. Come back up for air and repeat. 

Maybe this is lucky number seven, who knows? I will live through this and right now, the moment s we shared turn to ashes, smouldering in the heat of my pain and anger. But first remember his lips on mine, stubble brushing the soft skin of my nape and then my collarbones. Tingling and raw I feel every inch of my skin, hypersensitive and itching for more. Greedy. My body has always been a hungry thing and I’ve been starving it so long now.

I learned to let you go, the moment he touched me and felt the bones of my neglect showing through my skin. The way he skimmed his fingers over every bump and controlled his tone, light as possible, don’t pain her more than she has already suffered, that was when I knew it was time to let go. I was never that fragile really. I simply chose to mourn in the only way I knew how. In that grieving I found myself and remembered who I was before you. Maybe I can’t become her again but that doesn’t mean he will suffer for what you did. All the love I had to give you that you never deserved, maybe it will be his. 

Maybe it will be someone who I have yet to know. Someone whose face I have yet to see light up with a smile that will become my rainy day joy and a laugh that will make my belly ache. Someone who will feed me when I get too engrossed watching a show instead of tell me off for being slow. Someone who will nag me for my OCD habits yet still gently give me ground to control myself instead of forcing me the way you did. Someone who will love me and fight for me no matter what. I swear the tears that came as I wrote this are not for you. They are for me. 

I’m mourning the girl who gave all and lost. I’m mourning the love I gave without thinking and the draining emotions I forced upon myself. In those dark hours when I wept and howled to the empty four corners of my room, in the hours you weren’t there for me when you said you’d be, I learned to trust my heart. It has learned to beat again. Guess what, boy? It’s stronger than when it was before. But for now, I will enjoy his touch and I will melt, as I did for you not so long ago. As dawn breaks and streams in through his window I hope the ghost of you leaves me. I’m done praying for the heart and soul of us. 

~Rachel Alexandrina N.C.L.

Queen

Did you just rip that off?
Band aid that,
Your skin's still soft,
Look at this,
All battle scarred,
Don't want to hurt you,
Don't want to leave no mark,
They say life's all breezy,
But I ain't got enough heart,
Left to set free,
Run away angel,
While you can,
See these scars all down my hands?
Bite them,
Scratch them,
Don't bow to my demons,
I fight them,
And this pain is how I know,
I'm still alive,
Still in the show,
Take a bow now,
Don't let go,
Hang on to that crown,
You're a queen,
So let them know.

~Rei Shiori

Surrounding

I'm not so strong,
Without these arms around me,
I'm a little more broken,
Than I thought,
A little more chipped,
And more sick at heart,
Damaged,
In this, my fragile heart,
Come to me,
Hold me closer,
Just one second more,
It's all I needed,
Just your arms around,
Surrounding.

~Rei Shiori

Regrets, Suicide and that One Moment before the World fades to black

Have you ever wondered what it's like to fall? What if there was no ground to break your fall? What if, it was you perched on that roof top, on that building, that precipice that draws the line between sanity and insanity. What if it was you whose face was splashed all over the next morning's papers and you whose blood stained the sidewalk? Have you ever considered, what happened to lead anyone to that option? It's not all it's hyped up to be, just leaping off the edge and flying to your death, the last few moments glorious and painless. Maybe those few seconds before they touch the ground, those precious last few moments, were not spent remembering their life. Maybe it was spent screaming that it was all a mistake, IT WAS ALL A BLOODY MISTAKE!! But we don't have nine lives. We don't have the chance to turn back time or the ability to fly back up and live to die another day.

Or what if it was you who took to the knife and the blade, thinking perhaps that the blood flowing so beautifully and poetically red was a good idea. What if it was one cut too many and suddenly the phone gets too heavy to call for help and that voice you raised that morning to protest the world being unfair to you has now died in the confines of a throat that has often swallowed self-pitying sobs? Then you panic and all that races through your mind isn't the dramatic plan you so meticulously pieced together to gain sympathy and get your way, but your mind is screaming at you oh shit, oh shit, OH SHIT, WHAT DO I DO NOW?! HOW DO I STOP THIS?! What if, your parents who tried to help you all along and who you thought were annoying, prim and proper society dogs came in as you were dying and the last thought that crosses your mind was "What have I done to them?" Will your final thoughts be their faces streaked with tears and contorted in pain that you can't even fathom? Will you die with a million regrets and lists of stupid things you haven't done racing through your head? What did you die for? A country? Protecting someone you loved? No. You died for yourself and all because of a silly mistake.

That pill bottle sitting in a corner now lies in your hand uncapped, contents spilling out, spelling out ecstasy. Are you really going to take all that? Doesn't dying scare you? If it doesn't, don't you at least feel bad for the people you're leaving behind? Your kids, your friends, your love, your family. your dog or cat. They will feel the pain long after you're gone. Doesn't the discomfort scare you? What if it goes on for hours and days and you're too weak to call for help but still unable to die? Do you really want to be found in a pool of your own vomit? Worth it? Then all those things the bullies said to you, all those things your parents said to you about being a piece of shit, you're going to let them come true when they see how you died. Who wants people laughing at their death? You want to send a message? Then achieve success. Make something out of your life. Then you can spell out your message in cash and have it blazing in lights on a movie screen. But if you die today, who knows what you could've been?

One bullet. You want to splatter your brains everywhere for the love of your life to find? Don't you have enough dignity to tell them you can't take it anymore? Can't you handle things with a more matured mind? Why cause all the mess? No pain, indeed. What about the pain and trauma you cause to the person who finds you, gun in hand, bullet in your head. Don't talk about the mess, what about all the trouble you'd cause. Don't care? Ok, how about this. What about all those people who were mocking you. Want them to see you carried out in a body bag, your picture, grotesque in death, ugly even. Would you want the world to continue mocking you even after you're gone? That one moment before the bullet hits you, think about it. That one second before your finger squeezes the trigger, think about it. What message are you sending to the world? That you really are a useless, good-for-nothing quitter who couldn't even handle his/her own life?

One moment of stupidity and drama, one moment of recklessness, one moment of anger. Will you sacrifice the possibility of finding someone who will appreciate you beyond anything and literally live and die for you? If you believe in God, how would you stand before him and tell him you died because you couldn't face the pressure of exams? How can you explain that he was the only one for you and that you would have died without him in your life or your bed? People out there STRUGGLE to live, FIGHT to stay alive for their family and their future, dim as it is. There is so much more to life than grades and work. There's so many other men out there who will be better than he was. There's more things to life than collecting money. Your life matters, you matter.

Remember when you said you'd die if he didn't love you? Or when that girl humiliated you so much in front of everyone you ever held close to your heart? Remember now? No? Go back to that memory and feel that pain. Now magnify it, imagine it happening again and again, a million times over. Are you dead? No. Of course you aren't. You were born covered in blood, screaming and fighting to live. Or you were born smiling till the doctor smacked the shit out of you and you screamed at the injustice of it all. But what matters is, you made it out of there alive. And you're going to make it to the end of your life. Being humiliated and insulted, take it in stride. Just remember that you're better than them for not stooping to their level. Think that way and their words can't touch you. A boy isn't worth killing yourself over. If he was man enough, he would not hurt you the way he did, and if the breakup hurt you then know this: GROW UP! Life's going to be a pain in the ass and it's going to hit you where it hurts, repeatedly. It's going to make you wish you were dead and often too. But you're alive till now. You're reading this. And somewhere, someday in the future, maybe you'll find your happy ending. Maybe you'll see that if that boy hadn't left you, you wouldn't have found that man who treasured you more than any other girl and tells you he loves you and means it. One day, you'll find real love. It doesn't matter if it isn't in the arms of a lover. Maybe you'll learn to love in the heart of India, staring into the eyes of an orphan you saved or a baby girl you rescued. Maybe you'll find a way to stop a bully from hurting a kid you know. Maybe you'll find peace in the sanctuary of God. Maybe. There's an infinity of possibilities out there. And you'll never know them if you die today. So many people out there are dying, literally dying for a chance to get your life. Think you have it bad without the latest iPhone? Some don't even have food. Some don't have a kidney or a lung or even a heart. Some are living on borrowed time. While you can't wait to speed you way to hell.

We're only human. We're sometimes stupid, crazy, unappreciative creatures who think whether we live or die will only affect US. Our stubborn views of life from our little fishbowl and our egoistic way of living sometimes kills our will to survive or maybe just our common sense. A breakup is no reason to kill yourself. Being bankrupt isn't a reason to kill yourself. Being bullied isn't an excuse. Posting a video of it is just plain looking for attention in all the wrong places. Want to shove it back in your bully's face? Live. Be stronger. Prove to them that what they said made you better than the trash they are. Women have survived acid attacks. Men have lived through been cheated of everything except the clothes on their backs. Children have lost whole families and homes to tsunamis. Why can't you? What's so special about you that you can't live through something at least one third of us would probably have gone through at some time or another? Live. Even if it hurts, you'll understand why you are here someday. I hope someone will see your smile and love you for who you are and erase all that doubt and that pain that made you feel like dying now.

Keep breathing

Some dreams come true,
When you're not even looking,
So breathe,
The shadows don't last,
You'll find love one day,
And this time it will really be 'us',
No more excuses,
No more broken trust,
Fairytales start with bitter beginnings,
But only the strong make it to the story's ending,
Our happy ever afters,
Will come one day,
If we make it through today,
Keep breathing,
He's going to love your smile,
More than the other ever did,
And he'll hold you closer,
Protect you with every heart beat,
Sure he won't be on a white charger,
Not even a car,
But who cares,
As long as he's not another,
Like the ones before,
Chin up,
Keep living,
Keep your dreams alive,
Fight for what you believe in,
One day he'll fall in love,
Not with a damsel in distress,
Not another girl bound to just be a mistress,
He'll fall for your heart,
And the passion you hold,
He'll fall for you,
And when he comes,
You'll know.

~Rei Shiori