New Beginnings

Emotional roller-coaster of love and lust

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Pain Is Not Romantic. — An Obvious Oblivion Blog

I have had fooled enough of me. Quite often. I have a room of happiness in my mind. The door of it has a thin rope of expectations attached to it. The door is held open for me because I have tied the other end of the rope to the people who are supposed to […]

via Pain Is Not Romantic. — An Obvious Oblivion Blog

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Am I really so unique? I think I’m pretty ordinary. A person caught in the race of life. I was talking to a friend today and realised that when we find a person that we consider unique or different this can have life enriching but also damaging effects. You can get caught up in moments, thinking you will only ever experience this once. You can become so caught up that you start believing this is the end all and be all of what you’re worthy of.

I have been in similar situations. I have another friend that says nothing lasts. And this is probably true as well. But I’m a strong believer in choice. I don’t believe in destiny. I am not destined for unhappiness. Although I feel like this a lot, I keep reminding myself that life is all about choices. We choose how long we will let people control us. There is no denying it. You can reason and debate and wallow in self pity and destroy your life, your mind, your heart, and through doing so, think that you’re in control. You’re making the decision to hurt, to use, to discard all in the name of hurt. But the person that hurt you, they are still in control. No; control is actually making positive changes, even when you’re only seeing darkness and hopelessness. That is taking control. Starting the process of making choices that enhances your life, not taking steps back into the past. Yes, the past hurts, but moving forward is all you can do. There is no rewind button on life’s remote control. “What if’s” and “what could have been”  are negative, self destructive ways of thinking.

The only choice I don’t have is when and how I’ll die. I often think what people will say when I die. With the recent death in the family I was overcome with guilt for not wishing my family member happy birthday. For not messaging more frequently to find out how things are. I know life is busy, but I’ve realised that death brings people together. Isn’t that ironic? When we’re alive, we don’t have time to send a message or check in with a friend or family. When they die, we wish we did.

When I die I believe only a few people would have known the real me. The one I hide or keep under control. I know a lot of the people I’ve been close to this past year that will probably miss my body or my mouth, maybe my jokes. But will they feel as if something is missing from their lives? I think not. I know this because if I was a priority to them, they would feel me missing from their lives right now, while I’m still alive. My death would therefore not create any sense of “missing” for too long.

What I know is that some people was put on this earth to help others. Some think “I AM helping others” while others think “i am HELPING others” See the difference? Helping others can be a selfish act too. It’s all about the reason behind it. If not a selfless act of love or compassion, it’s not help. It’s stroking of ones ego. And this way, when you get tired of helping or being there for another person, you can just stop. Because your intention was never to help them. I know this, because I’ve done it. I’ve listened and helped others, but when they keep coming back and not “listening” to me, I got annoyed and tired and give up…because my heart was never in it. I feel bad for doing this. And those are the people I’ll try to reconnect with again. Because they really needed me, even if I didn’t need them.


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love language




My love language is physical touch and quality time. I score equal highest marks on these two. Receiving gifts scored the lowest. I don’t want to be showered with gifts, neither do I need words of affirmation. I need to be touched. It fosters a sense of security for me and I feel that I belong. When I touch, it’s an extension of my love. I love my piano. When I play, I’m making love to the keys. Touching them softly or hard depending on the emotion I feel. When I make love my hands and mouth and body are extensions of my soul, my love, my passion.

Time; there is no more precious gift than giving someone your time. Time spent together doing things that you and I enjoy. A walk, a meal, a meaningful conversation.

This is who I am. I do not touch lightly. I do not give my love easily. But when I do, you will know by my  touch, my kiss, my time.

I long for your touch

I have felt it before

I’m sorry, so sorry

I failed to say


My love is my hands

Your time is my joy

Without touch

I will fade away

For love to me

Is silent and cozy

Just like your presence

And body so warm


If this love is not

The love that you seek

The love that you need

then happiness with me

never will be


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There are very few artists that moves me to the core of my being. Tori Amos, Collective Soul, Counting Crows and Muse. These are the artists that are personifications of me at different stages of my life. Muse is currently the only band I want to listen to.

There is one Muse song in particular that moves me like no other. The first time I listened to it, the guitar irritated me and it sounded like anything but noise, an annoying noise, to me. Now, when I hear the opening guitar rift, I feel the scraping sound of the guitar resonate inside of me. I feel the pain that the writer must have felt. I feel the discomfort scraping inside me like nails on a black board. It is the sound of utter frustration, pain, soul torturing insanity.

Break me in, teach ME to cheat and to lie, cover up. What shouldn’t be shared” I am lying to myself, to everyone dear to me. I’m covering up..all the time. I used to share, now I don’t want to share. I want to isolate myself from this world. What it’s become. My world, how it’s nothing but a moment to the next.

And the truth’s unwinding, scraping away at my mind. Please stop asking me to describe”  The truth of what I am, who I am, what I am to others. It is unwinding and yes, I feel my mind being peeled away from my being. My thoughts disconnected, unable to explain what I feel, unable to describe how I’m falling apart, from within. Little by little I am becoming something new.

“For one moment, I wish you’d (I’d) hold your (my) stage. With no feelings at all,  open-minded”  I don’t want to feel anymore. Feelings hide. True feelings are hard to convey. They are so intimate that I don’t even know what they are. All I know is that it’s not enough. No matter what I feel or don’t I can’t hold my stage and say what is eating away at me from the inside.

Self-expressed, exhausting for all to see and to be what YOU want and what YOU need”  That is who I am. I am what the world wants me to be. A mother, a lover, a friend, a teacher, a sounding board. I am exhausted, yet I bare my all. I give, I satisfy, I ask, I am turned away, I am treated with excuses of selfishness.I give my body heart and soul. I sacrifice. I struggle. I have little. I still give. I even beg. I demean myself. For others’ satisfaction. I don’t belong in this world. The cold and heartless world that breaks people. Women that leave destroyed hearts and spirits in their paths. I am this woman too.

Wash me away. Clean your body of me. Erase all the memories. They will only bring us pain. And I’ve seen, all I’ll ever need” . Yes, I have seen all I’ll ever need. Letting go of the past is so hard. I convinced myself of things that was never there throughout my life. I wish I could erase the memories. I want to clean my body of him that hurt me the most so long ago. I want to forget my pain. How I was hurt. How I seem to attract hurt like a magnet. Let me forget who I am. Become a new kind of person. One that can’t be hurt. I want’ to be erased as the citizen I am.


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This morning I looked at you

With eyes wide open

I don’t know why

But I wanted to kiss you then

Even if your lips aren’t mine to kiss


I kissed you once

Your lips unmoved

It meant, I’m sorry for all my moods

Your eyes smiled at me

A look of love

I kissed you again


I love you too


And then still, you didn’t move

Neither body nor lips

I kissed you again, for I glimpsed your soul


The kindest, gentlest, yet…so hurt

Can I take the hurt from you

With stolen kisses on the morrow?

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Song of the day. Sunburn. White, red, Itchy blisters, pealing feelings, white again


Come waste your millions here
Secretly she sneers
Another corporate show
A guilty conscience grows
I’ll feel a guilty conscience grow
I’ll feel a guilty conscience grow

She burns like the sun
And I can’t look away
And she’ll burn our horizons make no mistake

Come let the truth be shared
No-one ever dared
To break these endless lies
Secretly she cries

She burns like the sun
And I can’t look away
And she’ll burn our horizons make no mistake

And I’ll hide from the world
Behind a broken frame
And I’ll burn forever
I can’t face the shame

And I’ll hide from the world
Behind a broken frame
And I’ll burn forever
I can’t face the shame

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There she stands

A girl in blue

Apparently seen and heard

But is she really? It’s absurd

She is but an illusion

You conjured up

An ideal, a dream

A never was


Phantom girl, of the night

Why do you deceive and lie

Do you know what you leave behind?

A mess, a shattered, troubled mind


But you’re not real

Never really was

Be gone for good and find your own right

You’ve done enough





Be careful of the phantom game

The damage always will remain

For in your shame

There is no gain

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The last year can be summed up in one word. Confusion. Every aspect of my life is filled with confusion. Today left me confused for various reasons.

I lost a family member today. He committed suicide. I haven’t seen him for probably ten years, but I connected with him on social media and I have many many fond memories of family holidays spent with him. He was the youngest of four children. Very quiet. A loner. He didn’t say much but he smiled. He was happy. Or was he? He was going through a divorce. Why is it that relationships fucks a person up so much that they are driven to take their own life? I would never ever have put him in the at risk of committing suicide group. Never. It’s left the whole family in a state of confusion. He never spoke about it. He didn’t tell anyone what he was experiencing that drove him to this act? Why?? Why the fuck do men think it’s ok to keep and hold all the crap that they experience, bottled up inside. Whey are men emotionally so unsure of sharing their fears and their feelings? Especially with the people that loves them.

I am so torn by my role as a mother. There are so many days that I feel that I’m not a  good mother. I’ve lost connection with my maternal instinct. I always judged people harshly that abandon their kids and run off. But I can see how that is possible. Not because you don’t love your child anymore. I would lay down my life for my child, but there is always the nagging feeling that I’ve messed my life up so bad that I can’t possibly be a good role model for her. I live a strange life now. One of confusion.


Writing this I realise this is the one thing I yearn for so so much. Security. I don’t have it. I am left unsure and confused many times. And when I’m uncertain, I act differently. I make snide remarks, I drop hints. I fucking hate that. I’m a great believer of NOT dropping hints, but asking directly. Maybe it’s the few answers I do get, that I don’t like.

Confusion is changing me. For better or worse, I don’t know.

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Once again sleep stays away. I decided to get up, read a bit…Came across a blog post from a rape victim, like myself. How many nights I’ve woken up from dreamless sleep, but wanting to scream. Fighting to wake up, breathing heavily. Feeling paralyzed, unable to do what I so desperately want to. I can never scream. I can’t make a sound.  All I know, as I’m waking up, is that I want to scream. It’s a strange feeling. Helpless, unable to let it out.

I often wonder if it’s an attempt to do what I couldn’t, so many years ago. Reading this lady’s post, I relived it with her. The experience, the paralyzing fear that prevents you from doing a thing. The feeling  of leaving your body. The “this is not happening to me right now” thoughts. Denial, yet, the unmistakable awareness of being violated.

She also has “gaps” in her recollection. Time stood still and as I was intoxicated as well. There are moments I will never remember. The silent screams, stuck in my throat, the agonizing thoughts of wanting to die, but at the same time, wanting to live.  I wonder if he thinks about it? I wonder if he has a family, children, daughters.

She went to her friends’ house. I went back to my room. She called the authorities, I was too ashamed. She shared the burden, I kept it secret. She said something that I realised I did as well. She convinced herself, it didn’t happen. I did this so well, it’s the only way I coped. I was alone, broken, abused, lost identity. Broken winged, scarred soul.

It’s difficult to explain to someone how you feel after an experience like this. How profound the effects are. My silent screams still haunt me when I try to sleep. I wonder if my subconscious still battles with him. Trying new ways of stopping it from happening. Figuring out a way that I can have my special moment with that special someone. When I feel hopeless, unloved, unwanted, I sometimes think it’s because of this. I’m too broken to be loved or wanted.

He never watched my face. I was raped from behind. My face pressed into his hand on my mouth. And today, this is the way I like it. I can’t look into another’s eyes. I hide my pleasure and pain. It’s too intimate, too revealing.

There are certain events that stays with you. That shapes you into the person you become. The events you have no control over, are the ones that stays the longest. But tonight, I want to stop trying to control it. Especially as that moment has passed. It can never be controlled, changed or be different. It is what it is, was what it was.  Maybe this is the secret to getting over it. Finally realising there is nothing you can do to change it. No amount of crying. No amount of anger. The anger with life for dealing you this card. No amount of writing, telling, reliving, silent screaming. Nothing can change it, therefore, let it go. Free myself from this memory, from the negativity that seeps into my life when I feel sorry for myself.   Is this the secret?

I am beautiful, even though something ugly and vile happened to me. I am worthy of being treated like more than a body, even when it’s all I feel I am worth. I can make love, even though my first experience was not born from love, but hate.

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Day trip



First class ticket to station unknown

Journey starts, excitement grows

Feeling spoiled, everything new

Journey length; who knows

Straight track, smooth ride

Are we there yet?


Tickets checked, yes this is life

You are on the right track now

Stops? None, unless the cord is pulled

Tracks begin to curve

Blind bends, dark tunnels

Are we there yet?


Bumpy now, feeling sick

Pull the cord? Not yet

Look around, where are they?

Hiding behind their papers and books

Eat and drink, maybe even sleep

How long will I still weep?

Then it’s time, you have arrived

Home at last

I leave the ride