Crassness and Cursing

Detailed Musings of a Total Bellend

[littlest-plum]

Conduit

7:04pm.

Missed call.

He squeezed my hand as I hit redial and began my ascent.

Here it comes.

And to tell you the truth I hardly remember what was said. Between 00:00 and 1:35:26.

I counted 8 lumps in my throat.

Saw 5 people walk by out the window.

Saw one of my cats twice.

I even saw a light in the sky that turned out to be a plane.

The rest... Conduit.

As if my Grandad's 19 years and my Nan's 7, of built up frustration tumbled out of me, my anxiety only afterwards wishing to reach right out after my tongue tip to drag it all back in and swallow it again.

None of it was a lie.

With each new revelation, I felt myself finally pull out each wasp sting that I've left to nestle and scab.

I openly bled as if they were fresh wounds.

He hung up and the room was ringing with words I'd never known how to say.

I ate to calm myself; frail from the bloodloss.

I wish I knew what I shared.

If only these walls could speak.

[littlest-plum]

Defining White Privilege in my little white house.

Last night

After scrolling through the day

I paced.

He drummed his fingers and gazed thoughtfully at the door.

The energy from our phones pulsed through the room.

“Say. His. Name.” A protest nearby started the debate. I discussed the timings and where to park. He hesitated. Pandemic. Pandemonium. Panic.

I felt the march inside me though. I was already marching, he commented. I paced more. “He couldn’t breathe”

I plead.

Can you not hear the call my love. He slams his fist.

It’s unfair, we both lie awake. It’s unfair, we both murmur new developments through hoarse voices. He wants to protect me. I want to protect them. But rubber bullets. But crowds. But the police.

And in that moment it all becomes clear. Our phones pulsed loudly, Beating in time to a march, a heartbeat, a deafening cry.

Because this was white privilege. This conversation. This option.

We felt the fear and could turn away. Could choose not to welcome it into our world. We were fearful of what this choice meant, what repercussions would ripple into our world by association. To stand along side and witness the depravity, to feel the glare from the burning hatred cast onto POC brothers and sisters.

“Choosing not to stand alongside them, negates their lack of choice to be brutalised for a choice they never made and a choice that society defined for them.”

They are us. I am them.

I don’t understand but I stand.

[littlest-plum]

Maybe I can’t read Harry Potter again because the last time I read it I was Harry, desperate to have my own family, my own life away from the reality I was destined to suffer through and I’m 24 and he made it and I didn’t.

Maybe I can’t read Harry Potter again because the last time I read it I was Hermione, the cleverest in my year, destined to do great things and now, in my brothers own words, that girl’d be embarrassed if she saw me now.

Maybe I can’t read Harry Potter because I used it as a crutch for my bereavement and I barely scraped through the last book once and vowed to never go there again. I’ve known loss and pain 10x over from that now.

Maybe I can’t read Harry Potter anymore because I’m worried it won’t feel like home. It’s magic won’t work now I’m old and jaded.

[littlest-plum]

Ode to a Love Glutton

Do you remember how crazy it was To hear someone say I love you For the first time. I'd said it to boys before. I'd even said it to you to early. You cried the first time. Said you'd never let yourself Believe that anyone Would utter it. You held me so tightly. And then I told you Years later Your mind elsewhere My eyes tracing over your profile That it was now. This was it. In that moment we both knew I would forever. Sure, with time's grace It would ebb and flow But your surety in my love Took away it's blessing. They became words that You one day Walked away from. Effortlessly. Alarmingly so. Yet knowing them to still be true, You watched years of tears, Pressed into my wordpress page, Enjoying? Observing? Basking in my words Soaking up my pain with bread Still thriving off my love. Only now, You've come crawling back. Scratching at my door, Still wanting to check That there's love to be found Warmth and light from the lack of love, Do I realise That all of those years. All of these years since, I have sustained you. And there's been nothing left for me. A shell. And a love glutton.

[high-poets-society]

Words made pretty by @_victorialee___

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[littlest-plum]

If I'd felt this badly 4 years and 2 weeks ago, I'd be at my Nan's With a two night bag stretched so thinly 3 weeks after arriving Having lived in her jammies, Her tees, Her onesies Braless and just laughing. Nothing ever felt wrong rattling around that house. It always felt like coming home. She always smelt like love.

[littlest-plum]

Someone will tell you that she's seeing someone someday and that she's happy and your hands will stop working. You'll have to work hard to hold onto whatever you were holding. I hope it's not glass, I hope it's not breakable. Suddenly you'll remember everything that you ever loved about her. Everything that ever moved you to tears, made your insides feel like they were tying themselves in knots. That she was loyal, that she was open with you, that she smiled against your mouth when you kissed. That it felt easy, like God had put the two of you together deliberately, like it had been the plan all along. But for whatever reason you let her go and you thought that it was the right thing and for a little while, it felt like you knew exactly what you were doing. Except now all the parts of you that touched her know that you're never going to be able to touch her again and that hurts. Even your fingers are sad, even your stomach is aching from the loss of it all. You're never going to get that again and that's why your regret looks like artwork that would have been a masterpiece if you'd finished it. Your regret looks like plucking a flower before it's bloomed. So maybe you'll call her and you'll tell her that you miss her and she'll sound gentle on the phone but not in love with you anymore. She'll say 'we happened and we were important but you let me go, I'm sorry but you let me go' And that's how you'll know.

Death-makes-life-more-meaningful

[littlest-plum]

On my last night on Earth I wanna look to the sky Just breathe in the air And blink in the light. On my last night on Earth I would pay a high price To have no regrets And be done with my life.

L.I.F.E.G.O.E.S.O.N - Noah & The Whale

[littlest-plum]

What if, After all this time, I'm just going through the motions, Waiting for you to come home.

[littlest-plum]

Roses

Like Yoga Jones says, I look at my happiness As a mandala.

At the moment, The only sand I can add, Is rubbing rose oil on my feet When I can’t sleep.

Because it’s difficult to feel alone, When you’re falling asleep In a bed of roses.

[littlest-plum]

Last time I felt this empty I had no one either And I still pulled myself out of it. I've had the fortnight from hell, Been stood up, Left out and ignored. I forgave my family Made moves to come back And got smacked back to the kerb. So don't act like you didn't bring this on Because I promised you last time You'd look around and I'd be gone.

[triceratash-blog]

My starry sky was burning, My starry sky was bright, But the stars imploded one by one And took away the night.

I tried to catch their energy To make them all okay I tried by hardest to hold them Until the break of day.

But some stars just cannot accept They simply want to fly And so I’ve let my bright star go Without our last goodbye.

[littlest-plum]

And here I am Slow dancing to old love songs With my favourite ghosts Lost in a tear stained teddy

[littlest-plum]

Sporadic Sunlight

When I was at high school, two of my best friends were H and J and they were a couple. They seemed to be the perfect couple in my book. Together for 4 years. I was there for their first kiss in the swimming baths, and they both ran up to me and squee’d and then he dipped and kissed her in town. A real 12 year olds dream. They were inseparable, in a way. They were in love, in a way. I remember most of all their distance. Emotional and physical. H was the type of boy who was dramatic, animated and hilarious. Always a girl on his arm. Even me, arms linked on our way to Maths, to sit at the back and laugh. J was always there too, quiet, beautiful, ditzy; my favourite person. His favourite person. I remember the 3 or 4 days around their break up. She told me that what she felt for him had weakened, like a dusty book where the spine was disintegrating. He told me loved her in the purest way, but with no longing and lust. Like this pristine angelic person, but still, just a person. Like a dull ring he wore and forgot to love. She cried but didn’t know why. And as H and I got the bus home he asked me where he went wrong.

I told him that for years I’d watched her be the girl that always walked 3 steps behind. He juggled relationships with everyone else because he needed to be liked, he loved attention and because he didn’t need to try with her and he trusted her to love him, he overlooked her so often. And there’s only so long you can depend on sporadic sunlight.

[littlest-plum]

Deep Clean

I woke up and cleaned. Scrubbed and gutted. Cooked a Sunday roast dinner at midnight. And as I'm taking my tea out, I twigged my dream. A job interview, In my flat. Role reversal. Serving him. Food, flirting and cocktails. Our speciality. And I'm wondering why this time I haven't shaken it yet. And I'm wondering if subconsciously I cleaned for him or for me. And I'm just not sure how I feel anymore About anything. For so long I've used my boxed up flat As an excuse To not allow anyone in. So how can I be ready for anything And want to move on When I can't open up.

[thelovejournals]

I crave the side of you that you don’t show to anyone else.

Unknown (via thelovejournals)

[littlest-plum]

When I look into your eyes, I see us stood in the Lakes, in brisk winds and me wrapping you up in a tartan scarf against an autumnal backdrop. When I see your smile, I think of the moments between waking and opening our eyes, where I'll know you're there and find your fingertips; opening my eyes to find that smile. When I hear your voice, I imagine road trips, your hand on my thigh as I drive, with all of the windows down, fighting over car sweets with the world at our feet. And yet I must look away. Search for new eyes, A new smile. A different voice.