Amnesia

She woke up in the woods and couldn’t remember a thing. She vaguely remembered who she was but didn’t remember what she believed in. She woke up to a world where she had made many mistakes, she couldn’t remember but she could feel it. What she didn’t get was how those mistakes were designed for her to understand life a little bit better, in a different way. She had to let go of the concepts ‘the others’ had brainwashed into her mind. She was young but not terribly so. She was strong, but sometimes not strong enough. She knew better but forgot that she did.

After finding her way out of the woods, she was in a place full of people. She was no longer alone but felt terribly lonely. She wanted to float away and be back in the woods where it was only her and nature.

The people around her had lives, full ones it seemed. The people around her knew what they were doing, or so it seemed. Everyone pretended, or so it seemed. But what she didn’t yet know is that the only ones who really have it together are the ones that don’t care if they do or not. They are the ones that knew better than to show off.

She woke up and started to remember. She woke up and knew that not knowing was OK. That her mistakes weren’t life threatening. All she could do was remind herself over and over again what it’s all about. All she could do sometimes was eat the fresh fruit, nourish herself with kind words and walk freely through wherever she seemed to be. Yes, sometimes it was too small but it was also lovely.

Everyday she forgot. Everyday she had to remember. Some days the joy took over and other days the struggle was uphill. Some days she woke up after a nightmare and others after a beautiful dream. Some days it took her minutes to find her way, others almost the entire day. Reading helped, writing saved her. Singing made her float and capturing images opened her eyes.

It’s fine to feel as though it’s too much, so long as you keep going even when you really don’t want to. So long as you don’t give up, that’s fine. Others might not seem to swim against the current as much but that’s not you. You are you and you’re supposed to make the most of it. You’re not suppose to question as much as you do, just enough. You’re supposed to remember because some never even wake up. Some remain, never to be truly seen. Others wake up only to get lost and never be found. Be grateful. Stay strong and know that even when you feel alone, you’re not. There has to be someone else in this very big world that feels the same way. And if you’re lucky, you’ll find those restless souls and keep each other company for a while. Just try to remember, close your eyes and remember.

The girl in the coffee shop

I sit by myself constantly. Whenever I see someone else be me, I can recognize the red balloon.

The red balloon is mine for an instant then it belongs to a different girl. I sent it to her and she gladly accepted it.

As soon as she sees me, she smiles. The red is familiar and we’re in each other’s shoes. The red flats expand and contract to fit our feet perfectly. She’s who I am and is doing what she’s supposed to. She’s as close to me as anyone could be.

I easily forget how connected we were born to be. Invisibly linked.

Lovely books remind me how, in fact, we are all one. I cannot judge without taking myself down with my very strong opinion.

I sit here by myself and know that someone somewhere is doing the exact same thing, feeling exactly how I’m feeling and then it’s not even possible to feel lonely.

Right now I am the girl with the red balloon, and tomorrow I can be the girl with all the people around her, celebrating her being.

It’s funny how this life thing was created to function.

I keep my glass full of water and smile at August as it gave me a life changing book, a job opportunity and endless amounts of unexpected blessings. It also kept away people no longer meant to be in my life.

Let there be light for the girl with the beautifully healed scars that sits by herself. As she smiles, she’s reminded how lovely she was born to be and how lucky she is because she gets to be a girl.

Yes, she knows she’s the girl in the coffee shop with the red balloon and wouldn’t have it any other way.

Pretty little stories

As lonely as it can get without another body, I’d take your story before I’d take you. You can become instantly unnecessary as soon as I become my own. I can see myself from the outside and it suddenly becomes easier, impressionably livable.

Your flaws are held against you. They make you cause pain. Your actions are sadly obvious. Completely unaware of what you’ve done. Yes, you can hurt but you don’t necessarily leave a mark. Whatever you had to say wasn’t worth including in the story because it wasn’t epic enough.

I can live without you but I can’t live without me. I can breathe underwater but I can’t take you with me. You don’t know what it takes to swim in the depths. The mermaids wait for no one and are willing to show themselves only to those who believe. They can guide you towards a world only a few get to see.

As uneasy as the others say I should feel, I’d never stay; not for long, not at all. You are now powerless against me. The more words I learn, the less I need yours. The more I understand, the less I need to.

Your presence is no longer required. Your chapter in the book was in the middle. It existed but is no longer necessary to write, to create. I must continue to swim and explore the story I can feel and touch with my imagination.

There is a story to tell. This one will only welcome those secure enough to contribute to the storyline. We get caught in reality too often; we forget why the stories are more important than us…they don’t age; maybe only in wisdom but never in time.

There is a story to tell and nobody matters more than the plot. It’s unique and it’s timeless.

We might age but what we get to tell remains for those who stay. We needn’t forget our responsibility to say, that which shouldn’t be forgotten. The mundane is easily taken into account when it only fills the gaps from one picture to the next. The moments worth capturing are the stories that will remain not only in our subconscious but in whichever form we choose to express our pretty little stories.

Where am I?

I wake up again, lost. This time I’m older but not necessarily wiser. I’m faced with the same decision. Should I stay or should I go? Will I ever figure it out? The different shades of grey seem to make the gap between black and white grow further apart. Little did I know about this living situation when I was younger.

The dilemma is not knowing. Should I try to fit into the box in order to maybe someday fly or should I take a trip on a rocket ship where the sea is the sky? The fantasy lures me in but it has also betrayed me in the past. Or should I put out the fire of being free and make my life grow inside the box?

If I came up to myself, what would I tell me to do? Important question that should be answered. I think I’d tell myself, first of all, to relax. Nothing should be worth betting my peace. No matter what I decide, I must know that my future is full of happiness and fulfillment. I don’t see myself fitting the profile but I do see myself feeling free and stable. I’m always caught between these two world and which one wins is still yet to be seen.

I wake up again, I’m not home. I feel restless and lose my breath as I remember where I am…which is nowhere. The walls close in on me and with every passing minute I push them away, I have survived another day.

Whatever world wins, I’ll be the hero of the story…I’ll be the one that gets the happy endings and beginnings against all odds.

I wake up again, I feel lonely and lost; but that doesn’t mean someday somehow I won’t find my way.