Change

One gets accustomed
To living a certain way.
Tried and tested routines,
But nothing stays constant.

Some changes are unexpected
And happen swiftly,
Small alterations
That are either absorbed with little effort
Or that send you into a minor panic
But are soon forgotten.

Or the bolts out of the blue,
Life-altering events that cannot be predicted,
Only weathered,
What some would call "character building"

Then there's slow changes -
Friends growing apart,
Personality development -
That aren't immediately noticeable
But months down the line
You look back and don't recognise
Who you used to be.

There are also the inevitable,
The milestones of growing up -
Changing schools,
Leaving home -
They're the scary ones
Until they happen.
You soon adjust
And wonder why you spent so long worrying.

It doesn't mean you learn for next time.

Wait A Little Longer

A girl sat down at her desk with a blank piece of paper in front of her. She picked up her pen and started to write:

Dear All,

This isn’t anyone’s fault. I just can’t be bothered any more. I don’t know what to do with my life. I feel like somewhere I’ve taken a wrong turn and there’s no point trying to fix it because I’m never going to achieve anything.

I’m so scared of the future. I just want to run and hide.

I am sorry. I’m sorry I’m not brave enough to keep going and make something of the situation I’m in. I know I should wait for it to get better but I just can’t see any further.

I love you all, but that’s not enough.

She finished writing her note, placed it on her cluttered desk and got into bed, turning her MP3 on and putting her headphones in. She opened the bottle of alcohol and the jar of pills and took the appropriate dosage. Then she lay down and went to sleep.

And somewhere, a girl looked up from where she was celebrating getting into university. She shivered slightly and felt a phantom pressure on her left hand, as though someone was holding her hand. It never quite went away; nor did the nagging feeling that she was late for something.

She grew up, settled down with a woman whose high school sweetheart had died in a car accident. And she was happy.

When she died in her old age, rather than seeing her partner, she was met by a girl she’d never seen before and yet recognised immediately. She held out her left hand, noticing that it was young again, as the other girl held out her right. Their fingers slotted together and she suddenly felt complete. The other girl spoke:

“I’m sorry, I didn’t wait for you. We were supposed to meet during your first week at uni.”

“What happened?”

“I killed myself.”

“I wish I could have helped.” She gripped the girl’s hand a little tighter.

“You were supposed to be a week older. You should have been in the same year as me. We would have met sooner and you would have helped. Given me something to live for.”

“Why didn’t that happen?”

“Chance, the Devil, bad luck?” The girl was crying now, “I should have waited for you.”

“I’m here now.” She took the girl into her arms, both secure in the knowledge that no matter what had gone wrong before, this was exactly where they were meant to be right now and forever.

“Breathe in, breathe out, keep your heart beating until I come to kiss you awake.”

The Finish Line

Another day
And another -
Just one more day,
Another week,
Another month -
Almost there,
So close to it.
A new life.
Just keep going,
One week,
One day at a time.
So close now.
Reach out.
Your very core yearns
For the finish line.
For the end.

For the beginning.
For a new start.
For freedom.

A Rant

I don't have self-esteem issues.
(Certainly not because of my hearing)
My hearing impairment is no big deal.
I'm used to these minor adjustments.
They've been there for most of my life.
I don't view myself as disadvantaged.
I wish you wouldn't.

There is more to me than the university I attend.
Yes, it's a great achievement.
That's not the point.
You should be asking if I'm happy.
Never mind.
I know you need something you can measure.

Long monologues about how proud you are
Rather than trying to listen
To me talking about something I'm interested in.

We work fine
Without your commentary
Shaking our foundations.
It doesn't matter
That you don't understand.

We don't need external approval.

Fairytales

"Someday you'll be old enough
To start reading fairytales again."

Do we ever really stop?
Every story with a happy ending
Is a fairytale,
Something that never was,
Where everything falls into place.
Everyone walks away
Smiling

What about religion?
The ultimate fairytale.
No one is ever deemed too old to read the Bible
With its Good vs. Evil morality
And its abiding sense of
"Everything will turn out right"

In all other cases
We disguise it,
Saying that
Adult stories are realistic -
Scientifically possible,
More ambiguous characters.

But what's realistic
About an author's manipulation?
The orchestration of coincidence.
Giving hope that it will happen
For us.
One day something will happen,
Or we'll meet someone,
And everything will be okay.
Good always triumphs
And Evil is suppressed.

Age has nothing to do with it,
Hope is the key.

Does such a belief seem naive?
It belongs to a more innocent age,
Before we got all world-weary.
What if it's a belief that everyone holds?
Even if they hide it.
Even if they forget.
Even if they care too much about what people think
To act on it.