Loulabanana

It was supposed to be... Climactic. An explosion of all we know, Not the sly creeping of time under the door. Unseen. Devastating. And now, where are we left? Another goodbye. More will fall, Though all we know how to do is cling on, To search desperately for a link to the past. Moving on is overrated.

I never knew why I was never told why Only now do I realise - It was denial. I used to pride myself on my intelligence But I never realised What I was doing was trying to suffocate what was inside of me, The stupidity I thought I could crush. But looking at my defence, Doesn't that mean I always knew it would be there? Or could I really be that stupid?

Did I do it? Do you mean -  Did I stand back while she lost herself? Then yes, I did it. Did I convince myself it would work out fine? Yes, I did it. Did I abandon her in her time of need? I did. Did I watch her do it and do nothing? Yes, I did. Did I listen to her cry over what she had done in desperation? Yes. And now, at the end of it all? Did I do it? If by 'it' you mean decide to take the fall, For one I do not deserve to call a friend -  Yes, I did it. For I am just as guilty as she is.

Do you honestly think I am blind to my irrationality, After living with it for fifteen years? I can see I should be happy. But I can't fake satisfaction, Any more than you can force happiness upon yourself. 'You are a perfectionist.' Don't whisper like it is some great secret, Some sin left unrepented. Shout it, as I do -  I AM A PERFECTIONIST. It is a part of me. Not one I often like, admittedly, But it belongs. So let me feel bad. Let me look at my 'good' work And allow me to be disappointed in myself when I see it, Because I expect better. In my heart I expect perfection, And rationality takes that goal down very lit

How many times have we compared life to a game? Let's play. Let's take these 'Happy Families' cards And use them for counters. Youngest throws first, Throws a dice that says tantrum, Or moves on three squares to the older child's starting point. Fight over the square - but there's nothing serious. Eventually older child gives in, moves on towards starting square of a parent. But down the snake comes daddy counter, Tired of all the bad sportsmanship, Shouting - all his words are in capitals,  As if Scrabble letters are all he can use. See there, where the board is stained? That's where the older child started crying, Tears

Sleep deprivation made life a dream, And as my memories blurred I made a suggestion to go somewhere... What made me cry, as we walked? What caused me to go insane, Wishing to be never and yet always alone? Wanting to stop, go forwards, go backwards, all at once? I could only describe it as a desire to stop existing, Just for a moment, So I could come back with an ordered mind And resume life in sanity and clarity. I confessed to you my reckless streak which bordered on suicidal, I tried over and over to explain my thoughts to you, I cried to you as I desperately sought answers to one question - 'Am I crazy?' Apologies tumbled fo

Where do you draw your inspiration from? Is it from routine? Can you write or draw about The morning rush The people you see each day The things you experience daily? Is it from one-off events? Can you write or draw about Walking down the aisle Losing someone dear Just something that made you smile once? Is it emotion? Can you write or draw about Misery Elation Tranquillity? Or is it spontaneity? Do you write or draw because Something pops into your mind Boredom leads you on You are born with inspiration in your heart? Where do you draw your inspiration from?

Life's a melody We cry at discordant notes Harmony brings smiles