Plate

When this online, public library began I dare say the influencers of today were probably in their nappies.  And I am keenly aware, that there are so many opinions about the 'appropriate' use of social media- what you can publish, what you can say, what is appropriate and I wonder sometimes - why do we treat the internet, a vast alternate world of reality like it's limited.  Don't get me wrong- ofcourse, we want to keep the creepy & perverted reflections of our world, off the net. Yet, even that has found it's space on the darknet- either ways I don't speak about that.  What I do directly, implicitly talk about is, are the voices of those that have a problem with food posts, or exercise posts, or exhibitionist posts or any other posts that anyone else puts up.  And these voices are louder in those that silently maintain accounts, creeping on everyone else's posts- guided by philosophy that reads like this:  'I don't use social media. But I see eve

Not a lot of thought goes into apologies, when those apologies need to be made to yourself. Innately, we are flawed and for some of us (ahem ahem), losing ourselves to a fantastical exploration is anyday much more exciting than the realities of life as we see it.  In short, we live in our heads and push away attempts by our insides to bring it out. We reject it. Draining our own inner strength bit by bit, through this resistance. So eventually, when the inevitable curtains are lifted, we are left spent, drained and at a loss for who to blame.  I do this. Internalize pain. Lash out at myself for allowing this to happen. For attaching my sense personhood to someone else's thoughts about me. For letting those critical of me, closer than they should be. Because, I'd think, maybe they can see something, I can't see. My blindspots.  But here's the black and white. The 411.  No one else can see every part of your life but you. No one else can hear the inner voice telling you w

When the memories of words you said once come drifting into my mind, lifting sanity and satisfaction. I wish I could forget. I cannot. So I rewrite.  When I've written over the words, emotions come to get me. And those I cannot stop. I hold my hand against a giant wave, I scream to say enough. They batter me. Yet they do not drown me.  I float, sun side up- I want to get up. My mind reminds me of everything around me, every bit of beauty. Yet I cannot get up. I am unworthy. I cannot see past the broken belief that I, me..  I'm still here. This place of need. I'm ashamed, because I believed every note of music that you sung.  I let you in and I should be able to let you out and you've left me broken to bits, to scrap and scavenge for promises kept- and I still want you here.  What does it feel - to be free? To live life like memories lived were no more than mere thoughts mid sleep between awake and alive? To have hope for a sunrise that doesn't remind you, instead pr

yes. shes the one that can wait a bit longer.  work a bit harder. understands more. knows better. matters lesser.  yes. she can hold on.  she wont go anywhere.  should she then, life will go on.  its ok. it doesnt matter.  yes. shes the one with no nick names. a forgotten memory.  a checked out hotel room. she'll be there. she'll be fine.  yes. she's the one i love lesser. lesser everyday. dont tell her. let her be there. there where shes happy. let her believe it still exists. 

She took a puff in, and felt a burn in her chest. So hot, she felt feverish, and slipped deep into a delirium so round, so alluring, she closed her eyes and let it suck her in. Right here, in the middle of the many coloured rings she saw him standing, hand stretched out.  She slapped it away and ran the opposite direction until she stopped hearing footsteps and turned her head around.  Where did he go? What had happened to him, she thought walking back the same way she had run.  But why are you going back that way, asked her mind, but her heart owned her body she kept taking steps back.  Until he reached out to her, grabbed her by the feet, cared not when she fell flat on her ass and he dragged her across the slippery floor, into the circles.  She turned around, dug her nails into the ground, and screeched across the floor, regretting those steps back from a moment ago.  She yanked her leg back, but it made no difference, because he had a firm grip on her foot. She sensed a violence, a

She would take random pictures and videos of her close friends and showed them beautiful parts of themselves.  She was so cruel to herself, and would constantly give feedback and challenge herself, we'd wonder, but she is so beautiful, why can't she see. She was the woman, who came into my life and changed everything. She elevated me, secured me and then she didn't. I lost her, and am loosing more of her, and now she's gone. Nobody will ever know what she meant to me. My sacred love, I don't know how I'll live without you. " He says, to himself.  She was my only friend, in my business. And she will be very missed.  Sabi was full of life, energy. She was crazy, fiesty, happy and compassionate. Funny. Did we say crazy?! Oh sorry, we couldn't forget.  She was a beautiful, sucessful feminist who loved  herself. And she was smart. Intelligent. And a stoner. I can't do this. I can't talk. She was like me. In so many ways.  And with this, she felt a ri