He Was Art..

One day he told me he was dying, and it wasn’t cancer caused by the cigarettes we smoked out back in his yard. It wasn’t a disease he caught from when he spent to much time at his Grandpa’s place in that weird old town. 

He told me it was his brain, he told me it was bleeding, bleeding creativity. He told me he was dying, or at least the artist inside if him was. He told me that at this point he was gone. 
But I said that there had to be a cure, surely this couldn’t be the end. But his art was his cure, and he could feel it seeping through his viens, and out of his body. He could feel his soul drifting, his eyes like holes, agape. 

And I knew where all of it was going, it was now inside of me. His laughter, his amusement, the way he would move his hands, flailing them around and up into the air. His energy had danced it’s way into my heart and now he was worn out.

Because I took everything, everything but his sickness. A sickness that now lived within him.

 His art was gone. He wasn’t the same boy I met at a bus stop late at night. And I was kinda high but I told him I thought he was cute and his haircut was sorta funny. He laughed it off and the very next day he was sat at a barber’s shop.
And I could feel my eyes burn when they would conjure up those painful tears I deserved. 

I made him feel like he had lost it, when all along he was it. 
He was art when the whole room looked at him in awe, the way he would move his feet, that birth mark on his chin, right below his lower lip. The way he would slide his arm around my waist, and that winking of his that looked more like blinking but I didn’t fight him on it. 

And he was still art when his hair had grown down to his shoulders, when no one would bat him an eye, he was still art when he sat in his apartment late at night, he was still art when he couldn’t sleep, he was still art when he spilled his tea, his hands couldn’t stop shaking. He was still art to me.

The artist in him was still alive, because art can never truly die. H

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Friends |Story Time 

Hey guys, so I thought we could do a story today, since my brain just doesn’t feel like cooperating with me and that no matter what I write it just ends up as a bunch of words thrown together at once, or like someone jumbled up the alphabet and squished it into a paragraph.

So we’re gonna have to do with this for now.

You know those sayings about people walking into your life and walking out. Or how they were never “meant” to stay. Well I met a person like this once, she wasn’t ordinary and she was so much more than just special.

She was one of those people who are so excruciatingly intoxicating that being in their very presence would drive you nuts.

It started in an English class where my teacher liked my poetry so much that she decided that she needed to read it out to the class, after finding out that I couldn’t stop her I asked her to just say that the person who wrote it wants to stay anonymous, and by the grace of God she agreed. (Trust me my English teacher was hella stubborn)

And so she read out the poem and people seemed to love it, they looked around the class thinking of who had written it and none of them had the slightest of idea that I was the one behind it. I mean why would they? I was the girl who stuck by a small close group of friends and was famous for playing the most absurd of pranks on everyone.
But while they were all looking toward the quietest girl of the class, because it’s obvious right? It has to be the quiet shy one at the back, she has to be the one who writes the sad poetry. This one girl who sat in the same seat all year, the girl who had way to many boyfriends and a really good accent, she turned around, she didn’t say anything but she nodded at me. Which was enough to let me know that she got it.

And so what once was a backward glance and a slight nod in a classroom full of teenagers soon turned into a friendship. That only lasted for three months (pretty shitty I know).
But after spending three months by her side I realised that knowing someone’s favourite band or favourite movie doesn’t mean you know them, it just means you know a part of them, a very very small part of them.

I thought I knew her inside and out but all I really knew was that she liked to smoke, a lot. Her dad would give her drum lessons in their basement after school, and she wanted to be a model. But that’s pretty much it.
She was one of those people who don’t just admire from afar, no she wanted to be a part of it. My world, not that it was as exciting as it seemed. The thing was that I took her as someone who was there to stay, turned out she was just passing by.

But her short presence in my boring life taught me something. I stuck by her side because she made me feel special, she was one of those people who weren’t afraid of life, so when she got suspended from school one day, she didn’t sit home feeling bad. She spray painted all the walls in the girls toilet.
She would jump at the smallest mention of adventure, and she would never back out once she was in.

But that didn’t mean I knew her. Because knowing someone means sitting by them and rubbing their back when tears flow from their eyes.
Knowing someone means not only being there in the high, but holding hands when it starts to get low.

We never talked, we were never truly there. It was more like a version of my self was left at home when I was with her, I could never truly be myself.
And that’s just not right, is it?

And so no matter how much this girl and the mystery she was intrigued me, I distanced myself from her. And we went from cracking lame jokes at 3:00 am to just a “hi” or “hello” when we passed by eachother in the hallway.
And the worst part was that she didn’t notice.

I guess the moral of this story is that people will walk into your life in the craziest of ways, and you might think that it’s fate. Because they like your favourite band or because you both like the same color it doesn’t make you soulmates, it just makes you two people with similar tastes.

Remember to stick by those who value you, respect you, treat you like a human being but most of all know you. Not just certain parts of you, the whole you. The people who are there on your worst nights all the way to your best days, the people who you can talk to without being afraid. The ones that will not only give you a hand when you’re down, but a hug and an arm to keep you up.

I guess that’s it for now. I hope you guys enjoyed and I know that this was painfully long but it was kinda all I could come up with.
I do however promise to come back with a better and stronger post next time.-H

A Home..

​You were given an old dusty room to call yours, it was nowhere near a home, but you made it better. Applying a floral wallpaper, with pink radiating off of the walls, you brought color into what was once monochrome. Then you hung little lights upon the walls, made everything seem bright. You grabbed your worn-out apron and a few old brushes, you stood high up on a ladder borrowed from the neighbours, you painted a sky filled with an abundance of stars hoping they would light everything up when it was one of those sleepless again, staring ceiling would be easier this time. 
You bought white daisies from the flowershop down the road, he gave you a discount when he saw your shirt losing its shape and ripping at the edges, the dark circles around your eyes and your shoes begging to be thrown away anytime.  You placed them in a vase cracked in the centre, your hands would stick to it because of the cheap glue you applied to keep its pieces into place.

On the way home you bought yourself a chocolate bar, a Kitkat to be exact, it was your reward for turning that dump into a home, a place that you could finally call yours, unlike everything else in this world that just seemed like it wasn’t made for you, or maybe you weren’t made for it. 

All the expensive cars and houses the emported cereals and oat bars they ate, the mansions the live in, sitting on their arses all day watching the world revolve around them, they were kings sat on their thrones, little did they know those very thrones were placed upon the backs of the poor. 

They say poverty is a disease, I say being rich is even worse, it’s like cancer only worse that you don’t lose anything, like your hair you just gain and gain, you save and you spent, and in no time you find yourself rotting six feet under the ground, who knows maybe the grave beside you is hers, who spent her life building a a home, while you built a castle with the click of your fingers.
A single daisy lies upon her grave, while yours is empty, just like the use of the numbers you saved in your bank account, is it fun, I heard that amazon doesn’t deliver underground.-H

I Like It When…

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I like the conversations that start with a small “hello” or a mere question, but then they go deeper, deeper to the point where we talk about death and all that scares us, we share our secrets and tell silly jokes, while we inhale the smoke of our cigarettes. We ultimately lose the track of time, we stay awake till’ our eyes beg us for sleep, and our minds scream for some rest, we say goodnight, and the next morning we see each other as different people, we lose the idea we had of each other yesterday, now that we’ve seen inside the cold cemented walls blocking the way to our hearts.

I like it when I’m walking in the halls and I hear the piano playing, I instantly jog to the music room, and there I am greeted with the beautiful image of a quite boy, his eyes shut, as his fingers move along the keys so swiftly, he brings the room to life, and he loses himself in the beauty he has created by pressing the keys. After a while he looks up in shock, he tilts his head down, why is he so shy? I tell him that he was amazing as I clap my hands, but he just stares at the ground a small smile making its way to his lips as they curve upwards, he looks up, nods at me and speed walks out the door, but I don’t chase after him, I know that exactly a week from now I’ll be standing here again and telling him how good he is, and I will do it every week, until the day he starts to belive in himself, the day he looks up and says “I know”.

I like it when I’m with my friends, I don’t have to think about tomorrow, I don’t have to think about who I am, and what I will do with my life, I can forget everything and laugh, I can smile without it being fake, but then when I go home, it hits me all at once, so fast that I don’t even have the time to breathe, as I start choking on my sobs, because after all of it, I’m always alone, I will always be alone. Then I start to think maybe I was built to be alone, maybe I don’t deserve someone to hold, the possibilities and tiring thoughts are endless, a cycle that never stops. So I grab the bottle as I pop one in my mouth and gulp down the liquid that seems to be water but I don’t really care at this point I just want some sleep, and sleep is what I get, but I don’t like it, it’s not natural, it’s the pills, but again there are a lot of things I don’t like but who gives a fuck about that, people only wanna hear the good stuff, so why don’t you just shut up and keep it to yourself, like everybody else does.-H

Runaway.

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Let’s run away, I might sound crazy and we might not have a place to stay, but let’s just run away.
I want to see the deserts in California, I wanna see the buildings in New York,
I want drink coffee in a small cozy coffee shop filled with calming music as i flip through the map looking for my next destination. I want to stand in Times Square and feel the cold breeze as it collides with my skin sending chills down my spine.
I want to see the sunset as the Cruise moves along Boston Harbour. I want to taste the pizza of Boston with soya sauce in it.
I want to go to LA and take a stroll through the Hollywood Walk Of Fame, and Universal Studios when I get hungry I’ll just grab a meal from the nearest Chinese restaurant as I make my way back to my cheap motel room.
The next morning I’ll make my way to Disneyland, I’ll happily shake hands with Mickey and Minnie as I have the time of my life on the incredible rides.
My next destination would be The Broad, where I would lose all my senses as I get transported into the world of stars and galaxies, all around me, probably one of the most beautiful things I’ll ever see.
Then I’d go to the Bellagio in Las Vegas to watch the dancing fountains.

I wanna go bungee jumping even though I’m afraid of heights.
So let’s run away, we’ll figure the rest out as we make it to the plane, let’s run away because I can’t wait to see the northern lights, the stars from the rooftop of an abandoned building, I can’t wait to eat the macroons they sell in Paris, I once read in a book, they tasted like heaven.
So let’s run away, because I can’t wait for what comes after today, as we climb the highest mountains, as we light the brightest fires and sing songs that remind us of who we were before we became nobodies. Before we disappeared without a goodbye, I always hated goodbyes in the first place.
Let’s leave this behind and start of fresh, as we take another flight to somewhere new . We’ve got a whole world to travel, so pack your bags because I can’t wait to see what tomorrow holds, if you come with me maybe you’ll find that missing piece of your soul you always talk about maybe you’ll fill that hole in your heart finally, but if you won’t, then we can always go back home.-H

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A Little Talk

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Hey guys, it’s been a while since I actually sat down and talked to you, so today I thought I would post something a little different than usual. As you know this blog is very important to me, it’s a place I post about what goes around in my mind, a place we’re I can be myself, but when I started this blog I never wanted it to be all about me, yes the posts are personal and about me (most of the time) but I wanted this blog to be a place where my readers could relate to me, and understand that they are not alone and that we all face struggles in our life, yes everyone has their own demons to deal with and my fight will never be exactly the same as your fight, we see the world from a different perspective, no one faces exactly the same problems, but that does not mean that they have to face these problems alone.

I want you to know that any time you are struggling, or not sure about anything or fuck it if you ever feel alone just leave me a comment and we can talk. I want this blog to be a pace were you can lose yourself, and I know that all my posts are not always positive (they’re depressing af) but I write what I feel and maybe one day my posts will be about love and all that cheesy shit but as for now I’m gonna go with my heart and fill the pages with whatever comes to mind.

But the main point of this post was to let you know that I am and always will be here (unless I fall of my chair and die, which to be honest sounds like something only I could do) I will listen to what you have to say and be there for you, I wanna be there for people in the way that no one ever has for me. So please if you ever need anyone to talk to just know that there’s an extremely awkward and utterly lame person who could be a serial killer waitin to hear it all.

That’s all for now, see ya in a day or two.-H

Never Forget

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From the day we are born, the day our mother holds us in her arms for the first time, the day we cry, laugh or sob for the first time, to the day when we have wrinkles on our faces and can hardly move our legs, we are never alone. This life, it gives us a lot but also takes a lot from us, whether it’s in the form of death, failure, hate or love, we all lose something either big or small it hurts but we learn to live and life goes on. But something that no force in the world can ever take away from us are the memories, those that we share with our loved ones, we can never loose or forget the moments in our lives that build up to the person we are today. And the feelings like the cold air on that December night you roamed the city in a rusty old car with the speakers blowing up, or the taste of the your favourite ice cream melting in your mouth. You will never forget the places you went the books you read and the people you met. Life can often kick you around and make you its bitch but you’ve gotta hold on, and if not for you do it for the ones that make you smile, the ones who will do anything and everything to be by your side, the people who are waiting for you to stand tall and not give up, don’t let them down, never forget the memories, the feelings, the butterflies in your stomach on your first date and the bone crushing, heart warming hugs your best friend gave you after the holidays. These are the things that will matter the most in the end, so if you give up now, you’ll never know how amazing looking back really is and how much these little things can actually mean. -H