talking of Michaelangelo.
Wednesday, March 18, 2020
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please save me // 12:12 am
Don't do good for the sake of receiving good.
Do good because good is enough.
When it is hard, you won't find solace in reward. You'll find solace in the pure goodness of it. Yes, it is thankless, yes it is fucking tough as all hell broken loose. But remain calm, find your center in goodness again.
Find the unfailing goodness, the pure, real goodness.
P.S. to my breath of fresh air, always, your words bring me back for that I am eternally grateful and have no idea how to ever repay you for that
be the nurse for the bad
be the granddaughter for the good
Monday, March 16, 2020
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do you want to talk about it? // 11:58 am
No.
Okay, let's just sit here in silence together then. Come, hold my hand.
Sunday, March 15, 2020
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tale from the late bard // 4:48 am
He watched her from across the cell as she looked into the tiny metal contraption in her hand. She had caged a tiny shimmering butterfly, the rarest of them all. It shone in so many different colours you couldn't say what it truly was. He walked toward her.
She sighed at him without looking up, "Isn't he just magnificent?"
The butterfly flapped his luminescent wings impatiently, hoping to see the sun again.
He said sternly, "Let him be, or he will cease to be what you want him for."
She turned away from him, shielding the light of the butterfly. "He's mine! I'll do what I want with him!" She exclaimed haughtily.
Not wanting to speak to him again, she scurried away from him to another corner of the cell while saying inaudiblely to the butterfly, "Only your light can carry me through this."
Lethargic, the butterfly still shone on.
In the cell, sun had begun to break through the cracks. The butterfly, renewed with hope picked up his wings and tried to fly.
Having ignored the butterfly's lethargy, she watched with glee as the butterfly shone it's brightest. She scowled at him, the one who had warned her.
He could only shake his head as he watched her afar from his corner of the cell.
She whispered sweet nothings to the butterfly daily, coaxing it to eat sweet nectar from her fingers. Even giving it her own blood to keep him alive. But day by day, the luster of the butterfly dwindled. She didn't notice, and was unfazed.
Inevitably one day, the butterfly had given up. His light had gradually gone and had become an ugly pale, ashen grey. It's wings stopped flapping and he would not eat anymore. She hadn't noticed the change until all the light was lost and cried, "Come on! Eat and shine again, eat and shine!"
She shook the cage, "Come on, come on!" The butterfly sat listlessly there.
He walked to her side of the cell and pried the cage from her fingers gently. "It'll be fine. Just let it be." He opened the contraption lock by lock and until the door opened.
The butterfly stepped out tentatively, testing freedom without even the slightest flicker of light anymore. With two quick flaps of his wings, he flew out into the bigger cell and went to a crack of sun.
She sobbed.
The butterfly came back to her momentarily, as if understanding tears. But he did not shine.
"I told you so," he said.
She gingerly held the tiny butterfly in her hand. "Without your light, you are nothing now." Then crushed it between her fingers.
He cried out in shock, alarm, anger, then sadness.
She looked at him squarely, he quietened and held her gaze. "I will pay for this."
She opened her mouth and sprinkled the tiny sandy grains of crushed butterfly into her mouth, its poison turning her grey as ash.
He screamed in horror.
Then she began to emit light, not the kind the butterfly had, but a blue light that pierced her from inside her until she was the light. She was a million lights and the whole cell was overflowing with light and the light and the light and the light encompassed them all.
"You are free now." She said to him.
She had never known what his freedom was to him, never cared.
He cowered there for a long time, his eyes adjusting. He couldn't see her anymore.
After some time, he stood up and walked away.
Tuesday, March 10, 2020
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days when you reduced me to nothing // 11:41 am
You push me, drag me crying across the figurative mud and then expect me come and love you expect me to accept everything you give me. This is your kind of smothering love. In shackles I dance, but you pull my ear, throw things from me, at me and scream and scream until I am drowning in my own tears and I can't feel or hear anymore. I don't hear you anymore. The world numbs away, I numb away into it.
You have single-handedly reduced me to smithereens and the pieces are impossible to put pack. I am dust now.
And I know that this is blood but I am done with it and I won't have it.
Your damage on me will go no further.
You look so smug like you think you've won, but let me tell you, you've lost me, all of me.
