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A wallflowers memoir
Fudge you up!
There is something sensational about that senstence. It's soft and it doesn't come across as ill-intenetioned at all. I wanna fudge you up...
Either way, I get this image in my head of my latest visitor rolling around in soft fudge, giggling at our childlike sillieness, not being able to contain ourself from tasting the sweets. Who can resist fudge? I certainly can't!
Words intruige me and make me wanna play around with them in my head. I wanna connect the words to the images in my head. They always said I had a very big imagination.
-"You're a little too dramatic, girl!"
They aren't seeing things from my perspective.
You see green and I see all the colours that makes it green.
May be that I process details that in a larger scale doesn't make one bit of difference to anyone else but myself.
It may be that I often find a sidetrack, the story of my life and get completly lost in it.
With the ability to zoom in, zoom out i would be a perfectly healthy normal human being..
That's the thing.
You dont get to choose. You are what you are. If I had it my way I'd be a reporter or editor writing columns for new york times but insanity, addictions and illness got the better of me. Literally spent the last 15 year in solitude, healing a very hurt and wounded heart, trying to find that sparkle in my eye.
The humour and lightness in my walk. Had way to many chits and chats with myself.
Sometimes drunk out of my mind
At times I got visits from the other side. They used to speak to me in my dreams but now more often than not, they conversate directly to me, with images and words.
It forced me promptly to write poetry.
Just to find an outlet to release the energy because it gets hefty to carry all those energies around after awhile, not knowing what to make of it.
See, darkness always followed me like a shadow.
I couldn't bare to drag anyone down with me in my messy puddle of mudd. Solitude for 15 years- that's when you realise all of your strenght to be resiliente, never dependant on anyone. Who you are- the only one to accept and love your company - is you, and all of those visitors from the other side, ofcourse. I am glad they aren't to picky with the way I decorate my home or is about to lick my floors…
Chapter 2.
I am familiar to the occasional vistits from the other side. It doesn't rattle my being or make me feel uneasy.
The latest vistitor was somewhat different though. I felt my it in my spine and bones, that this one was a bit too close to home.
Have you ever felt the hair stand up on your body? And did you ever feel someone took control of your brain?
A feeling you can't miss. It's not a quick process as you would see in horror movies. It's a slow take over. It's putting words that makes no sense in your head that will drive you crazy. It's a slow deteriorating slippery slope kind of thing. This is what happened to me.
I was sort of pushed and pushed further into insanity. Until I finally shouted "What do you want from me?"
Clear as a sunny day I got the response " Write, that is the only way to get rid of me."
Ever since I have been doing nothing but write it all down, those words that was given to me i have written down and to be frank... I thank him for this gift he gave me, my soul brother. Without him I would not have foreseen this to be an creative outlet for my anguish.
He is truly my soul brother that I learned so much from. A one of a kind that people saw in a different light when he was alive. Only if they met the man I got to know and love. Sometimes humans are complex and not what it seems.
If I can change a thing it would be that we ask eachother what is truly going on and not guessing or presume things. It's not always what it seems.
What I didn't expect was my willingness to completely surrender to him. Told him to use my body as he he pleased. This wasn't something I ever offered before to my visitors. To no one else for that matter.
His magnetic force opened my gates, made me forget who I was for a minute.
It felt like making love was easy. Letting your guard down wasn't a hurdle to overcome.
I could almost feel his lip entrusting me with his deepest secrets...
Chapter 3.
His lip spoke but there wasn't a sound to make this silent room come alive. Nothing came out of his throath.
He caughed and caughed several times. Tried to speak again. Silence was deafening.
People ran across the stage in a frantic mode until the owner grab the microphone
-" Ladies and gentlemen, there's a disruption but the show will go on as preceded. There is snacks and food, all the things needed...
Hold on! Did they ever stop to consider the man who lost his voice? Who lost his ways buried under overwhelming pressures to perform?
The memories is fading, his life is a dollar buisness his mates are serenading for all it's worth.
Chapter 4.
I felt a sudden pull in my body and my mind was brought back to reality.
I had drifted away on my sofa in something that felt so real.
It felt like someone stole me from the life I was supposed to be living. I was a rockstars closest confidant and best friend. He shared secrets no one else knew and I was the one who got him to perform.
Apparently this vistitor got to me a bit much and messed with my brain.
I stupidly told him to use my body as he pleased but this couldn't be the case, now? No, it's just a stupid dream and i am still this consistently weird girl who attracts strange dead people but that is all this is.
I can't be having a relationship with a dead person, that's so messed up to even be thinking about!
Although, my lifelong writer's block did however shatter into pieces.
My goodness how glad I was that it had been rifted into pieces and the words came flowing out like I always intended it.
For my dream was to become a journalist. Tell the stories of those who had no voice.
It came nothing of it, because it really didn't take shape until later, after the fact.
I did attend a school and they praised me for the little I cared to show them. Did an interview with a media mogul on the fly because ms troubled girl didn't even prepare it. He was on the biggest channel at the time and I was to interview him because no one else dared to. I shrugged it off. I'll think of something and got in the role.
I had no idea who he was anyway so i will just go with the flow. Just ask basic questions and act like it was the highlight of my life, eventhough i had no clue who he was. They were impressed but
I just laughed being quite embarrased about the whole ordeal.
Beating myself up for coming so unpreperad.
To be continued..
© Shar
There is something sensational about that senstence. It's soft and it doesn't come across as ill-intenetioned at all. I wanna fudge you up...
Either way, I get this image in my head of my latest visitor rolling around in soft fudge, giggling at our childlike sillieness, not being able to contain ourself from tasting the sweets. Who can resist fudge? I certainly can't!
Words intruige me and make me wanna play around with them in my head. I wanna connect the words to the images in my head. They always said I had a very big imagination.
-"You're a little too dramatic, girl!"
They aren't seeing things from my perspective.
You see green and I see all the colours that makes it green.
May be that I process details that in a larger scale doesn't make one bit of difference to anyone else but myself.
It may be that I often find a sidetrack, the story of my life and get completly lost in it.
With the ability to zoom in, zoom out i would be a perfectly healthy normal human being..
That's the thing.
You dont get to choose. You are what you are. If I had it my way I'd be a reporter or editor writing columns for new york times but insanity, addictions and illness got the better of me. Literally spent the last 15 year in solitude, healing a very hurt and wounded heart, trying to find that sparkle in my eye.
The humour and lightness in my walk. Had way to many chits and chats with myself.
Sometimes drunk out of my mind
At times I got visits from the other side. They used to speak to me in my dreams but now more often than not, they conversate directly to me, with images and words.
It forced me promptly to write poetry.
Just to find an outlet to release the energy because it gets hefty to carry all those energies around after awhile, not knowing what to make of it.
See, darkness always followed me like a shadow.
I couldn't bare to drag anyone down with me in my messy puddle of mudd. Solitude for 15 years- that's when you realise all of your strenght to be resiliente, never dependant on anyone. Who you are- the only one to accept and love your company - is you, and all of those visitors from the other side, ofcourse. I am glad they aren't to picky with the way I decorate my home or is about to lick my floors…
Chapter 2.
I am familiar to the occasional vistits from the other side. It doesn't rattle my being or make me feel uneasy.
The latest vistitor was somewhat different though. I felt my it in my spine and bones, that this one was a bit too close to home.
Have you ever felt the hair stand up on your body? And did you ever feel someone took control of your brain?
A feeling you can't miss. It's not a quick process as you would see in horror movies. It's a slow take over. It's putting words that makes no sense in your head that will drive you crazy. It's a slow deteriorating slippery slope kind of thing. This is what happened to me.
I was sort of pushed and pushed further into insanity. Until I finally shouted "What do you want from me?"
Clear as a sunny day I got the response " Write, that is the only way to get rid of me."
Ever since I have been doing nothing but write it all down, those words that was given to me i have written down and to be frank... I thank him for this gift he gave me, my soul brother. Without him I would not have foreseen this to be an creative outlet for my anguish.
He is truly my soul brother that I learned so much from. A one of a kind that people saw in a different light when he was alive. Only if they met the man I got to know and love. Sometimes humans are complex and not what it seems.
If I can change a thing it would be that we ask eachother what is truly going on and not guessing or presume things. It's not always what it seems.
What I didn't expect was my willingness to completely surrender to him. Told him to use my body as he he pleased. This wasn't something I ever offered before to my visitors. To no one else for that matter.
His magnetic force opened my gates, made me forget who I was for a minute.
It felt like making love was easy. Letting your guard down wasn't a hurdle to overcome.
I could almost feel his lip entrusting me with his deepest secrets...
Chapter 3.
His lip spoke but there wasn't a sound to make this silent room come alive. Nothing came out of his throath.
He caughed and caughed several times. Tried to speak again. Silence was deafening.
People ran across the stage in a frantic mode until the owner grab the microphone
-" Ladies and gentlemen, there's a disruption but the show will go on as preceded. There is snacks and food, all the things needed...
Hold on! Did they ever stop to consider the man who lost his voice? Who lost his ways buried under overwhelming pressures to perform?
The memories is fading, his life is a dollar buisness his mates are serenading for all it's worth.
Chapter 4.
I felt a sudden pull in my body and my mind was brought back to reality.
I had drifted away on my sofa in something that felt so real.
It felt like someone stole me from the life I was supposed to be living. I was a rockstars closest confidant and best friend. He shared secrets no one else knew and I was the one who got him to perform.
Apparently this vistitor got to me a bit much and messed with my brain.
I stupidly told him to use my body as he pleased but this couldn't be the case, now? No, it's just a stupid dream and i am still this consistently weird girl who attracts strange dead people but that is all this is.
I can't be having a relationship with a dead person, that's so messed up to even be thinking about!
Although, my lifelong writer's block did however shatter into pieces.
My goodness how glad I was that it had been rifted into pieces and the words came flowing out like I always intended it.
For my dream was to become a journalist. Tell the stories of those who had no voice.
It came nothing of it, because it really didn't take shape until later, after the fact.
I did attend a school and they praised me for the little I cared to show them. Did an interview with a media mogul on the fly because ms troubled girl didn't even prepare it. He was on the biggest channel at the time and I was to interview him because no one else dared to. I shrugged it off. I'll think of something and got in the role.
I had no idea who he was anyway so i will just go with the flow. Just ask basic questions and act like it was the highlight of my life, eventhough i had no clue who he was. They were impressed but
I just laughed being quite embarrased about the whole ordeal.
Beating myself up for coming so unpreperad.
To be continued..
© Shar
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