run past the river

i am not lost, i am a wanderer.

[captainsblogsupplemental]

I actually… love this

[solitarelee]

[dubiousculturalartifact]

i once wrote an entire academic paper with the central thesis of ‘everyone is kind of a dick to Data and it honestly kinda reflect how people treat neurodiverse people, which is also why we neurodiverse people relate to him so hard’

[oboe-youdidnt]

the original post was missing a line, so here’s the full poem!!

[haunted-hideaway]

His poetry is good. Fight me.

[madlori]

I HAVE BEEN SAYING THIS FOR YEARS

“AN ODE TO SPOT” IS FREAKING GENIUS FIGHT ME

[back-before-the-snow]

I am not lost I am a wanderer, yet for once I’m standing still. Feet planted firmly on the ground, no natural desire to escape, content with basking in your love. Some say “Home is where the heart is”, and mine was always firmly in my chest. But now you’ve torn it in half, a piece tucked in your pocket, tethering me to the possibility of us. I would wait an eternity rooted in this spot, so I could catch just one shared moment. valiantly battling every single hour that dare to stand between us, victory lying in your sweet embrace. I am not lost, I am a wanderer And now, I’m wandering to you.

nocturne #4 , back-before-the-snow

[back-before-the-snow]

I am on the breaking point; time to leap into action. Ready to take life by the scruff of its neck, Take Jesus’ hands off my wheel, dictate my own destiny. You give me one choice after another, all culminating into this thing called ‘Fate’ except this is My Life and it’s not over yet, so no need to plan my Best Hits, I choose right now, I choose emotion, I choose ecstasy, when i reach the pearly gates, whichever Maker will congratulate me on my wild ride I want to be assured that I chose Happiness even if i didn’t know it.

retrospect is an ungodly tool, back-before-the-snow

[back-before-the-snow]

For once, I feel lost. The dark nights drown me, smothering any flame or spirit burning within, I want to keep on living but have forgotten how, So I throw myself into life, and I feel every ache and jolt and sprain in the process. I miss the feeling of love, the feeling of freedom, that comes with the morning sun. I miss feeling human, so I feel pain: the Human Experience is Not a Pleasant One. I want to survive. I have something to give, I just can’t remember what, Sick of being alive but feeling lifeless. The Control which I Crave lies in Someone Else’s hands, some twisted puppeteer who is rewriting my script, because no-one finds genius in happy endings anymore, I feel sad. I feel shit. Because I WANT to be alive It’s just… Something Else Doesn’t.

stop being S-A-D, back-before-the-snow

[back-before-the-snow]

I remember being young, being scared, hiding in the darkness of my sacred space, clenching my fists and biting my lip, and placing my hands over my eyes so tight I could see the infinite cosmos: nebula, galaxies, stars, all behind the safety of my own eyelids away from what was real, tangible horrible I grew older. I grew up. I blossomed into a self-aware being, stepped outside of my self-contained shell, encouraging the expanse of the universe to swallow me whole, no more man-made fantasies formed in the mind of a smaller ‘me’, instead embracing the cliche of pinpoints of dying light and thinking: this place is really big

Me, Myself, and the Universe; back-before-the-snow

[back-before-the-snow]

Hello Stranger, aren’t you tired of following my footsteps? I’ve been running far too long yet I've still wound up back where I began, does that satisfy you? To see me as low as when we first met. And I’ve got the fear that overtakes me whenever I step inside this memory except it’s real and I feel like everything I’ve worked towards is shit. ‘Cause I fought my way, was king of the world ‘cept someone’s stolen my crown and I’m broken, I am shattered, I am spent but my God, I feel alive! Freedom has its price, its sacrifice, and I’m still paying off my debt but at least I fucking tried. I’m sorry, Stranger, You can’t stay long, I can’t live with this anger bubbling over every time you- every time you- and I have to do what’s best for my head. Get out of my head. I am not lost, I am a wanderer Find your own fucking path.

Nocturne #3, back-before-the-snow

[back-before-the-snow]

I'm slipping out of your hands. You’ve held me for a moment or two and already I’ve decided enough is enough that your sweet caress is not suitable for my skin, that once felt so soft now feels like an itch I can’t scratch and I’m scratching clawing dragging my nails where yours once lay an entire system screaming all because I wasn’t ready. I thought I was ready. I want to scream. Your touch is laced with acid and it burns right down to the bone. In my dreams it was never like this. We held hands, we touched lips, and all was normal, easy, carefree, todo es possible, We were whole, complete. Just you and me, No chunks of flesh under my fingernails. No bruises to your ego on being pushed away. No sword of Damocles hanging over my head, ready to drop at any moment, slicing through our comfort zone. Yet here I am, back turned to you, flinching over one misplaced fingertip maybe i’m not meant for this whole contact thing. i think you should leave.

A touching tale, back-before-the-snow

[back-before-the-snow]

Bury my heart at Eau Rouge, the trickle of the river drowned by the history, the sheer swell of the luckiest alive. Cheating death each time they turned up to their day jobs. Scatter my ashes at Becketts, thousands of voices unite into one, an entire nation on the edge of their seats, escalated to victory by their hand. The driving force of home pride. Let my soul wander the Nordschleiffe protecting these unsung heroes specters of cars of bygone times completing their pilgramige from beyong the grave. Just as I. Just as we. Lay me to rest where I love.

Lay me to Rest Where I Love, back-before-the-snow

[back-before-the-snow]

I am not lost I am a wanderer and I don't know much except our hearts can't beat on forever. The rhythm will grow rapid,one final sprint before it reaches the finish line, it can stop trying. If I died now, I'd be unsatisfied. my lips are kissless, my mind closed to certain intricacies, my feet haven't walked in every way of life, I have been a pauper. I have been a prince. Now, I am a pilgrim, paying homage to the Mother Earth, trying to fulfill nature's list of awkward firsts that have escaped me thus far, I am a bag of skin and bones and potential. I have too much left to give, to give up.

back-before-the-snow, Nocturne #2

[back-before-the-snow]

Stop Feeling S.A.D.

For once, I feel lost. 

As we approach the much-dreaded December, all I can think is that I want to keep living but don’t know how. How can I carry on living when I don’t feel alive? So I throw myself into life. I talk to friends I haven’t talked to in a while, I volunteer, I keep active. And I hurt myself in the process. I scald my hand with boiling water making coffee for the Club Kitchen, I feel every ache and pain and sprain after pushing myself too hard in training, I cry after going home from a night out because I miss that feeling of love, that feeling of freedom. I try to make myself feel human by making myself feel pain because that’s what being human is, right? The Human Experience is not a Pleasant One.

I want to survive, because I feel like I have something to give. I just don’t know what it is, just don’t know if I have the energy to go the distance in the first place. I feel messed around, and I don’t know what I’m doing, where I’m going, what I want in the first place. I just want to be someplace different, somewhere else. I’m sick of being here. I’m sick of being alive, but feeling lifeless.

No matter how many times I take my puffer, I still feel like a tonne of bricks is pressing against my chest, a tonne of bricks which I can’t escape, a tonne of bricks which stops me from being able to breath. And it’s not because the guy I was dating slept with someone else, or because my parents are part-time alcoholics, or because college is stressing me out. I feel lost, and I feel lonely, and I feel like I can’t control what happens next.

I feel sad. I feel shit. I feel like shooting out my brains

But I don’t

Because I WANT to feel alive. I just… Don’t.

[back-before-the-snow]

He is my Frankenstein: A false idol stitched together with the best bits of memories I used to know. To all others, distorted or wrong, a freak of nature or some misguided fantasy with Dave from Grimsby's wit and charming smile, Ulf the Norwegian's ability to argue to the end of the Earth, Dutch Kevin's kindness and all-consuming love [and of course, Enrique's Latin passion and a tan only gained by Spanish living.] Yes perfection has a price to pay, mine being my Frankenstein exists solely in my head.

An Ode to a Bygone Age of Men

[back-before-the-snow]

I am not lost. I am a wanderer; A map scrawled on the back of my hand in faded sharpie ink which has bled through onto my heart traced; each pathway identical, memorized. I am being taken, guided, led by the Satnav embedded in my brain working in correlation with my heart, man and machine. I am trawling through each night an eternal quest for satisfaction, hidden deep within exposed beneath the stars revealed in all its glory: hope, fear, dreams, a plethora of emotion only to be washed away by dawn's pale light, swept away by the tides of fresh morning dew emptying myself of what I have found only to wonder where to wander when night falls once more

nocturne #1, back-before-the-snow

[back-before-the-snow]

Moving On Before We Start

I guess part of me is afraid. That the links with which we can trace our familiarity with each other can one day end. Someday, our direct contact might stop, and I too might become another bygone reference in some new stage of life. Despite my best efforts, I can’t see the future, but with a freakishly good memory, I have a clear insight into the past, into the way my life has changed over the past however many years, and it honestly weirds me out how temporary everything is. Life has no infinities, just finalities. Maybe it’s time to accept that and move on.

It’s odd to think how we’re all linked in one way or another. Maybe it’s because I live in quite an insular area, a small locality where everyone seems to know everyone, or maybe I’m really onto something. Because when I look closer at my friends, especially those I’ve only met recently within the last few years outside of High School, I can see how our lives have crossed paths prior to us knowing each other. That we’re all interwoven in each other’s histories as background characters, as names or faces or shared memories that neither of us can remember. But the fact we were in the same place at the same time, or have some weird overlap in our family histories is just… it blows my mind. Maybe it’s because I’m a believer in fate, or maybe I’m just looking too much into this stuff, but I find it interesting, honestly. Like how when I started college, the most well-known A2 was also the boy I’d met when I was eleven walking his dog, or how one of my friend’s started his first year of high school when my brother was in his last at the same place, or how the same friend left the same year I started. Or how the girl I met at a summer programme two years ago is now best friends with my ex-best friend of eleven years. Or how it turned out one of my friend’s and I were at the exact same Biffy Clyro gig on the exact same date [28/03] way before we were formally introduced.

The list goes on. I don’t know if anyone else ever has moments like this, but thinking about the people who matter to me now haven’t really mattered to me for that long - only a year or so, maybe more. Yet I value their friendship more than I did those who predated them. I dunno, the fragile nature of friendship scares me to some point. Will I be another link to them in their future relationships? Will they instead of thinking of Me the Friend, think of me as Me the Connection between the past and the present, and the future they envisage. 

Truthfully, I don’t know. Maybe I just have The Fear which comes from being far too aware for my liking. Either way, only God knows what’s in store. And I’m in no mood for playing a Deity