Posts Tagged ‘adult’

thirties

21/05/2017

as my biological age
catches up fast
with my mental age,
people ask me
what fortunes I wish
life reserves me
in the future.

long gone are my desires
to be worshiped
as the best,
the shiniest,
the most
p-r-o-m-i-n-e-n-t.

all those who shine too bright
are flashes only:
burn without substance,
leaving nothing to be
remembered by,
nothing solid to be touched.

I want to go
deep
below the surface.

I want quiet
and calm conversations
into the night –
purposeful!
I want honest
and earnest;
not ahead,
but side by side.

all gold that is here today
for show
will probably be gone tomorrow.

living your life to please others
is not worthy:
the best is to please yourself.

forgiving oneself
is always the hardest
for you are
your hardest judge and jury,
the pickiest to please.

so I want to love myself
to the fullest,
this way, I am not that person
that everybody loves,
but nobody likes.

as I blow
birthday candles,
I want the heart of gold:
to adore
and be adored purely,
lovingly, not smarmy.

so my biggest wish
as I grow older
is not to vapid fortunes,
but to constantly
grow more and more humble.

below the mouth

10/03/2017

harsh, like being run over by a train, is the realization that i haven’t felt good in a while. that none of us have. that the world is hard, that society is mean, and that we are crumbling under the pressure of what others want and expect from us, in places and stances that are both amazing and miserable.

it’s hard to acknowledge that we are the adults we dreaded becoming, our parents, our authority figures: empty, cold and emotionally exhausted from running drastic scenarios over and over in our heads, for eating and drinking paranoia, fears and anguish, due bills and other responsibilities that stop us from sleeping. but, either way, we don’t mind insomnia, for sleeping is the cousin of death and i am not ready to die.

i am not. i cannot. i should not. or should i? maybe there is no point in existing, one may conclude – and, just as easily discard, because one must live, for one has hopes and dreams. one has roles to play, no time to rest. i should spark, i should be rich. i just cannot be. i must excel, and achieve. or so i was told by my mother, father, my church and my state. and by my self, really, in a stern convincing voice in front of the office mirror while i have cold sweats in the middle of the day.

maybe i am not mediocre, just stupid. maybe it is the lack of sleep, it probably is. maybe it’s the drugs, i should do a cleanse. maybe it is normal and i am just tired of having no clarity, or no answers. maybe i am thinking too much and can’t rest this thick muscle inside my head, can’t shut up the tiny voice that just tells me “there is no escape, this is it”. maybe i am doomed to be weak and never have the strength to get better.

i don’t know. how one can know? who has these answers? what is the path?

mine is apparently down, for my steps are tumbling down a slope. me, that was forever strong, a staple of sanity and solidity for others – i am going down with the whole bunch of my generation, and i don’t even know if i should fight this or just be glad. if i should prepare to vanish, to be gone, forgotten… just accept the fall and, as i go, say all the things that i have always wanted to say but never did. (never had the guts, never had the need).

maybe i won’t fall, but have to try something else. 180º turn, mix and mismatch. deny destiny, never drink the fate. maybe i should fight this all with my bravest arm, for i never waited for things to fall from the sky. “it is not who you are” i can hear them saying. at the moment, i think i can’t, but maybe i do. maybe i should rely on others, i don’t know. would you be willing to listen? to talk to me? i feel that you won’t, and that i will feel bad in your presence. i feel bad in other people’s presence: i don’t know if i should offer sorries, or if i should pretend i am well.

the question is: why is no one asking, really, if i am ok? I’ve given plenty clues that we are not ok. i get angry because of that. i feel like no one ever wants to talk about those things, no one wants to dry their tears. i feel like we aren’t allowed to cry, that it’d be shameful. is it? i have no etiquette.

truth is i don’t know if i want to speak the words either, to open up. if i have the will in me. i paradoxically want both the silence and the chaos, to be alone deep down a dark whole and a party and to be surrounded, be enlightened. i want it all and i want nothing, that’s it. maybe i just want a hug that i don’t know how to ask for. will you hug me if i ever stand up to the way to your arms?

all i know is that i don’t want to die alone. i am an ok person, i don’t deserve this. aren’t i? adulting is hard. self-esteem is hard. being abandoned is hard, and leads to more abandoning. things are turbid, the future is blemished, murky: i can’t see a single feet in front of me, so maybe i should stay put. or maybe i should walk until i find someone.

so what can i do?

for now, sit down and cry.

temperance

13/11/2016

I am never really angry
nor hateful

just constantly disappointed.

goldfish

27/05/2016

i just wish i could be surrounded by sea, now.
the gray sky above,
sand beneath.
no noise, no people.

just me, and the crashing waves
[the only sound].
maybe i’d put my feet in the water
in the sunless midday.
watch as the foam dissipates over and over,
feel the ocean wash away this knot that’s settled in my stomach,
the dizziness that clouds my head.

it is a weird feeling,
growing older.
like
a chill that settles in the bones.

may we meet again

23/05/2016

i remember you differently.
it’s something about your face, but I can’t pinpoint what.
maybe it’s your cheeks… they used to be more sunk in.
nowadays, i see, your face is fuller…
the shape was a bit more oval
back in the day.
you are starting to look more and more like your mother now, you know?
it’s true.
surely, you’ve got a haircut, but that isn’t it either.
or maybe it’s your eyebrows –
they used to be so bushy and restless,
a sign of our disheveled youth!
now they have a more daring design, going upwards,
that makes your expression always look a bit angry.

maybe that’s it.

or maybe it’s just your eyes, what swims in them.
the little flecks of things.
the years.

yeah, that’s definitely it.

we’ve aged and it shows.

#10

13/04/2016

“say you love me to my face”

it doesn’t always
need to be like this.

this life.

doesn’t need to be
like an eternal Monday morning,
with a job that we hate,
gastritis from too much coffee
and not (never!) enough sleep.

doesn’t need to be
a bellicose declaration at every corner,
a war that is started every night:
with belligerent blood
and dead bodies scattered along the way…

why must we make
everything
so though
and so rough,
abrasive like sandpaper?

why choose to live a life
with sharp, jagged edges,
that cut through dreams?
why pick on scabs that never heal?

everything can be shiny
and smooth, believe me!
we can go on a good swirl
inside our love and affection,
go down a good path
if we learn to see one another.

it can be good
and breezy, I assure you!

no need for sacrifices,
pain, absolution and redemption
of fallen heroes.
all I need is for you to be you,
and accept me for being me.

there is no space for miracle saviors:
our torturous books
lied to us!