When I was younger…

Before the trials of time had struck the innocence and optimism from my eyes I had dreams that were bigger than life. They were full of love, joy and if I’m completely honest I always wanted to be a teacher. I guess some part of me romanticised the part of Miss Honey characters another part of me rejected completely the total cop-out that’d be to my wild self. I wanted to be a storm on the horizon as well as shelter from it. I have lived my entire life in that in between halfway between a nurturing and maternal figure to my friends (I’m known as a feeder, no one ever has any complaints about that though) and a warrior of Amazonian descent. Unfortunately no one ever told me how difficult it is to aptly juggle these two fiercely conflicting states of being. It’s a little like a game of tug of war that I play by myself desperately trying to encompass and embody the traits I admire but, where am I in this? Do I embody these traits because I desperately want to or because that’s who I am? Most days are a confused blur of emotions and I’ve gotta admit to you, dear reader that I am overwhelmed I feel empty and sad most of the time and I’m not even sure why. I have no reason to feel this way and yet, at this point it feels so valid, so raw and so real. Yet, still that part of me powered by self hatred and anger sits in my consciousness and cackles at my suffering telling me I deserve it but that I also have no right to feel this way or give myself any empathy. To others I am warmth and support yet to myself I am as cold and unyielding as time. My insecurities sit perched on my failures at the points where I feel lowest tearing at my confidence and taunting me. I wish I knew how to fix myself and flick a switch that meant I could turn off this part of me, shut out the cruel and cold ice queen that lives inside me and open myself up to the parts of me that embody light and warmth unfortunately in life there is balance and part of my journey is learning how to balance. I must tell you dear reader, I cannot wait for the day when the two parts of myself embrace each other as if they were old friends, when they live in harmony together using each others different strengths to push me towards the best version of myself. For now, I shall sit on the battlefield of my own mind weathering the constant reverberations of bombshells as they fall on my tattered and fraying consciousness. Here I hide like a child with my face in my hands waiting for the sirens to stop and for my mind to be a safe place once again.

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Breakfast at Tiffany’s

Recently I re watched one of my all time favorite films, Breakfast at Tiffany’s. I think it’s the combination of Audrey Hepburn’s elegance and how much of myself I see in the character of Holly Golightly. Something about the desire for freedom to the point of self sabotage is so familiar that watching the film is sometimes quite difficult for me. The way in which she runs from any sense of commitment is one of my biggest flaws. I’ve moved around a lot in my life and therefore any issue I face my immediate reaction is to run away. I don’t seem to have the sense of grounding that my friends seem to and it’s bizarre to me to feel attached to any kind of house to me, it’s four walls and a bed there is no sentiment and no sense of ownership. Holly Golightly’s character refuses to name her cat as she doesn’t believe it belongs to her or that she belongs to it. There is such a simplistic childlike state of mind in that sentiment that makes so much sense to me how ever eccentric it may seem. Even my attitude in relationships mirror hers, I find myself meeting new people getting so close to being in a functional relationship then just as things begin to settle I self sabotage to protect myself from letting anyone too close to me. Nothing scares me more than letting anyone close enough to hurt me or figuring out how vulnerable I am. Her entire attitude of floating by effecting peoples lives yet being terrified of any kind of cage emotional or even a metaphorical one feels so close to home. I just have this habit of hurting anyone who gets close to me in a desperate attempt to retain the state of “freedom” that often turns out to just be isolation. I guess I should just name the bloody cat.