I am not a writer.

I just need somewhere to collate my thoughts.

[everyday-occurrences]

Your First Poem

[everyday-occurrences]

Harrogate

I see the name of your home town,

Marked just above the blue location dot.

 The corners of my mouth crease

I look down to my hands with a short sigh

And think how you held them once.

 I didn’t realise how beautiful you were.

I was too distracted.

Maybe had I just trusted what I wanted

I wouldn’t have the regrets.

 But you’re happy now.

And that amazing.

She sounds amazing.

 I see the name of your home town

My little blue gps dot showing how close

The miles of land and road showing how far

 And I smile for what was, and what could have been.

 I hope you know how much respect and questionable regret I have.

[everyday-occurrences]

FOR LENT.

1)      My low self esteem

2)      My lack of confidence

3)      Actors

4)      Casual kisses

5)      Hiding my feelings

6)      Apologising for my feelings

7)      Living in fear

8)      Letting people treat me like I’m worthless

[everyday-occurrences]

Breaking.

You’re an idiot.

I don’t know how to read you

I either know you better than anyone or I don’t know you at all

 [I know] You can lie

I’ve watched you [it]

With each I’m fine It’s okay

[But] how many more lies are left

 [I know] I have no right to feel hurt but I do [because of the strange non-verbal contract]

 I’m not going to make this sound pretty

A story told in blunt facts

It suits you.

Friends.

Rumours you liked me

You told me you liked me

I delayed

 I delayed

 No.

Or was it not now.

Friends?

 For years [past]

Again you liked me.

 Birthday.

One night spent sleeping under the stars.

Not like in films

It was cold and it was on a single fold out sun bed.

Together.

Told no-one- no one knew

 You told me you liked me.

Panick.

No.

I just…

You couldn’t

You couldn’t do it anymore

It hurt too much

 Okay

 No matter what

“Us” would never happen

Could never.

Should never

Wouldn’t ever.

We agreed

It hurt too much.

 Then you wouldn’t even look at me.

You looked straight though me

Pasted me.

Around me.

And

 Fuck.     It hurt.  And I blamed

Myself.

No matter that others noticed

Others told me I wasn’t in the wrong.

Guilt

Fuck it.

 Then I forgave myself.

I blamed

You looked into my eyes

Forgiven

Friends

Time.

 You crept back into my mind.

Chiseling away

Xs like warnings

I rembered our “Nevers”

Our hurt too muches

Yet others talk about us…

 But it’s you and her.

 Birthday. Again.

You’re ill.

I shouldn’t see this          You’re ill               I’m scared           You’re really ill

And this isn’t a game      And I’m scared  And I

Need you

And I’m

Crazy

About you.

 Sofa. Together. Side-by-sided.

Head-chest-hand-wasit-knee-thigh-foot-over-foot

 Never

Mouth-mouth.

Never

Hurts too much

 Hand in hair.

What did I mean               did you mean    did you think it meant

Did I want it to mean

 You had

Between beats

Told me you liked her. You didn’t want to because you had been hurt but she seemed to like you and you were starting to…She always messaged you first.

And told you things.

 You told me things.

[No one else      You told me]

 [Have you told her. You can lie, I’ve watched it]

 Tonight.

She was the only one you saw

And she’s sweet and funny and kind and

Don’t you hurt her.

 Fuck.

[everyday-occurrences]

I’m not that kind of person.

Too many times the words “I’m not that kind of person” have lingered around my lips.

They had been the bricks of the wall I have built between who I was, and who I’m meant to be.

More often than ever I now stand with eyelashes almost stroking those bricks, a hand lingering, palm forward:

If I push it, will it fall?

Do I want it to?

 Too many times the words “I’m not that kind of person” stopped me.

They’ve saved me from mistakes but they’ve also trapped me.

 “I’m not that kind of person” stopped me from drinking more than a single cider at parties

“I’m not that kind of person” stopped me from going out

“I’m not that kind of person” stopped me from allowing myself the space to fail

“I’m not that kind of person” stopped me from talking to people,

Stopped me from having the confidence to show the world what I really am.

 “I’m not that kind of person” stopped me from exploring the kind of person I could be

 “I’m not that kind of person” is such a fact.

It’s such a full stop where I am more…

Where I am more.

 I’m not that kind of person” is the noose around my potential.

“I’m not that kind of person” is the prevention of my growth.

 Maybe I’m not any “kind of person”

Maybe I’m just

A Person.

 And as a person,

Maybe my actions speak louder than my words.

But I’m learning to make both of these stronger and louder.

Because as I escape from being a “kind of person” I will make mistakes.

And I will walk streets I don’t belong.

But I am not a sum of my actions.

I am not the sum of my words.

For I am a person.

And I cannot be put in a box

Will not be labled a “kind”

 Because I’m not just a person.

I’m breaking this wall

And I’m fixing, and breaking and fixing and breaking my heart and head and my very soul and

I’m a fucking hurricane.

[everyday-occurrences]

A List for Me.

1. My mother isn't, and never was, always right. She now asks me for advise just as I ask her. I echo the words she used to tell me because I sound just like my mother now. But only sometimes.

2. I am happiest when I feel well liked. I want people to want me but I also want to be alone sometimes. I have accepted that both of these are okay.

3. I like being the centre of attention but I dislike being in a loud circle. My family are quiet. I am the loudest of a group of mice.

4. I love and respect my sister but I find her judgemental sometime. I need to remember she isn't. Nor does she know everything Nor has she done everything right. There is no right or wrong way to live.

5. I try and put myself in boxes. And sometimes that makes me feel comfortable and safe But most of the time it just restricts my growth and I need to stop it. No one has the right to judge you for liking the things you like.

6. I am not a writer. That's okay too.

7. Being a genuine and nice person is underrated. It's not about having the biggest personality in the room. Be interested in other people and they will remember you far more.

8. Everyone is human and we're all scared of each other. Don't be afraid to say hi.

9. Spending time with friends and having fun isn't something you need to feel guilty about. It's okay to be a typical teenager

10. Being pretty isn't everything. And being thin doesn't define you or your beauty.

It's hard and then better and then sometimes it's amazing. It is amazing. And it does get better. I forget this a lot.

[everyday-occurrences]

Invalid. A draft.

It’s exhaustion.

It’s lying in bed, aching to your very core,

Feeling like to go and have a shower and get dressed would be an achievement today.

And knowing that’s rubbish and you should be striving for more

You were a gifted and talented kid at school after all

And who’d consider the talent of getting out of bed each day.

 It’s an inferiority complex that hovers in the recesses of your mind,

Waiting, waiting, waiting, watching

Then

Bam

Sitting in the café surrounded by people,

And knowing you don’t have a single valuable thing to contribute to the conversation

And it would be the same if you weren’t there.

 It’s not caring,

It’s not caring about not caring,

It’s feeling guilty for not caring.

It’s a shame.

 It’s a self-hate that you can plaster a smile over

If you managed to drag yourself into the communal kitchen

But retreating back to your room

And a silence and exhaustion

Like your very soul has just run a marathon

 And some days it’s okay

Some days it’s great

And it’s these days that make you feel like a fraud

 And like you were maybe never bad at all

You were just lazy

A drama.

 You skirt the diagnosis

Not feeling your suffering is valid

Or suffering enough

It’s not wanting to claim an illness that’s not yours

Yet longing for the label

Because if you could only justify it with medical diagnosis

That would be something

 Because you can’t cough, or sneeze, or show it.

  Then when you made excuses to friends

About why you couldn’t hang out today

They might accept it

If not understand

That for today if you’re able to have a shower and get dressed

You’d have done well