Imaginative: Being able to drift off to a different world, universe or time. Be able to see buildings, nature and the universe itself change inside your mind. To put a charcoal pencil or a brush to a blank canvas and let lines turn into art. Let it all flow out of you. Sit down at a piano or any instrument and find the way to create pictures and movies out of notes created by you own head and hands. Feel words, pictures, emotions, thoughts drift through your body mind and soul, manifesting as poetry, pictures, songs or whatever else you can think of and imagine.
Abandoned: Sitting alone in the house. It isnβt many square metres, but it feel endless. The emptiness of it all is consuming. Iβm alone, but that isnβt an issue in itself. Itβs the loneliness of it all. No, thatβs not right either. Loneliness doesnβt have to be bad. This is something different. To be left alone in the loneliness after having done so much for them to keep them safe and take care of them. I gave them my own safety and my own health. I didnβt realise that was what ruined it. Took me away from them and changed me. Was I really abandoned by them, or did I abandon myself before they left me here alone in this endless house deafened by the silence and the anxiety.
Gloating: βHA!β I exclaimed. βSuck on that,β I continued as I stood up doing a victory dance. My smile developed from a grin to this ugly reminiscent of a smile. It was hovering and smug and triumphant. It felt wonderful until the moment passed and the feeling plummet into self-loathing. I felt dirty and nauseous. I had believed for a moment that my victory in a silly board game had made me better and grander than I was. βWhat the Hellβ I thought. I felt I should have apologised, nut I got ashamed. I felt like a douche. I poured another drink and suggested another game, but the mood has passed.
Affectionate: As she came in the door I greeted with a smile, a huge hug – lifting her off the floor – and kissing her deeply. She started to pull away to take off your coat, but I pull you back in again. I canβt just stop feeling you. Holding you, smelling you. Looking at your smile as I pull you back in warms my heart and sets me on fire. Itβs not sexual, what I feel towards you in this moment. Or rather, not only sexual. Itβs more than that. So. Much. More.I want to hold you forever, I want to protect you and keep you safe. I want endless mornings lying in bed and just talking and goofing around. I want endless summer nights with wine on the porch, I want to do the laundry with you. Live every part of life together with you.
Torn: I canβt decide. I donβt understand how. Not that I understand what happened in the first place. I just want to not to have to deal with this. Not now. Maybe never? How to say what I want. How to decide?
Safety: Weβre nestled in your bed. Under blankets. The room is dark and cool. The night is still young and thereβs a long and calm night ahead of us. We are just talking, holding each other and exists in the now. I can feel you start to drift off to sleep. I pull you closer to me and kisses you on the top of your head. You smile, close your eyes and falls sound asleep.
Regretful: My stomach is in a knot. My head feels light and things almost spins around. Why did I do this? Why did I do that? God, I need Doctor Emmet Brown and his DeLorean right now. I would sacrifice almost anything to be able to go back and do absolutely everything different. To make the right choices – or at least different choices than I took.
Smothered: You tell me itβs too much. Im too much.Β I need to back up a bit. Just for a while. You tell me how you need to feel able to breath your own air for a minute. Not feel watched over all the time. You say Iβm trying to control you, that Iβm overprotecting. She needs the air, some independence for a bit and feel as your own person.
Tormented: Though itβs been years, but thinking back makes me want to run, hide, cry. Thereβs no escape. I feel trapped by the feeling from that night. Not the memories, though. They are not really a problem. Or, the memory of how I felt are the problem. IT fills me with dread. It feels like a knife drilling into the bone of my thigh over and over again. It feels like pins being pushed into every nerve in my body. The pain is near getting familiar. It is new every time.
Longing: I miss it. Childhood that is. The everlasting summers spent outside in the woods. Trips with the family, trips to the river to bath in the warm water. Everything seemed so simple, easy and uncomplicated. The biggest decision I had to make was what to do in the woods today, what ice cream to eat, where to ride my bike. Maybe I should see a movie later or go to my grandparents? Thereβs a great wood there and sheets and lambs. And my grandmas waffles.
