Goodbye

She was a stranger. She smiled at me. She was cute and didn’t look like a trouble maker like other kids. She helped me up when I fell. I asked her, “why are you so nice to an old lady?” She replied plainly that it was “because were the same, I need someone to help me up, when I fall too.” That made me like her.
So I watched her as she smiled and walked off. Mumbling a word I couldn’t hear.

She was in my school. She was just a girl, she got annoyed and would argue and curse but she was happy. Not content, actually happy. She wasn’t the prettiest, she was nice enough, but didn’t really want to be there sometimes. I remember asking her one time what she would do afterwards and she said “to be honest I just want to get out of this shithole. I wanna help people, make them smile.” These words made me respect her.
I saw her smile as she continued to daydream. Mumbling a word I couldn’t hear.

She was my friend. Offering kind advice and being there for everyone. Joking around and laughing together. She had a fiery personality but a bit shy with everyone else. She would consult a friend about a boyfriend even if she didn’t give a shit, she would do it. She was there and that was enough.
She would just do it and move on. She said words that sometimes I couldn’t hear but before I could ask she was already gone.

She was my sister. We got on, fought then quickly reconciled and because of this I knew that in the end we would always be okay. She told me about her day. We would support each other. We never said it to each other but knew it anyway- we loved each other. “Remember that time you hit that boy?” I asked. “Yeah. Good times. Remember that time when we were little and you cut my hair,” she said. We did this a lot reminisced and laughed about it.  “Remember that you let me.” That was it just us remembering.
She laughed and strolled off. Mumbling a word I couldn’t hear.

She was my daughter. She was happy and grateful. She wanted to make a difference and live. She wanted to be her. She wasn’t confident, but she knew who she was and what she wanted to be. We would talk about what we would do together, just making plans.
She would grin and wander off. I hate how she would mumble but now I regret not hearing those words.

She was my daughter too. We know we loved on another but it didn’t hurt to say it. “I love you,” she would say. “I love you too baby”, she would always be my baby.
She kissed me on the cheek and pranced off and said the word

Goodbye

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Love, Sex and Other Human Necessities

A question that has been irritating me for a while is:

Why do humans crave love?

Or just crave other humans, in general.

Essentially, the ideal mindset for a person has been clear for centuries, millenniums even. This is to find a mate, our basic primal instincts dictate this. Through the years this mindset has changed, however not by much. Marriage was incorporated into our lives as a norm. Now the only difference is that education is included in our ideal little lives. Given, this may vary for some people but this is generally the most popular.

So why do we crave lovers, why do we crave love? It may be simple biology, pheromones but I’m no biologist. Actually, I’ve not even had a sexual attraction to someone so why is marriage still in my plan. Even asexual people want companionship. So there is more than this primal instinct.

My theory is this, not ground breaking in the least but what I think. From a young age we have had love literally crammed down our throats. Little girls with their easily influenced minds watched disney movies which told us that a girl can not be happy until she has a man. Her life is not complete until she has found love, anything less is not real happiness. This carried through their teens until they fianlly reached adulthood. This same lesson was still imprinted into these women’s minds. They attend family reunions and gathering with their friends and are asked if they are seeing anyone and if not then why?.

This can apply to men too, many of the guys that I know are told by their parents to have fun and do whatever until one day, they are thirty and their parents boabard them with questions which follow the general census. They ask why they have not found a nice woman. 

Women create their ideal love story, the ideal man with the ideal story which men can never really achieve. Many men don’t even try with this. Women don’t get treated like princesses like movies have promised them. However they still crave to be loved, by anyone. We crave love because it’s not acceptable to be alone.

So is it simply social convention for someone to be in a loving committed marriage.

Honest answer: I don’t know.
I say I don’t want to marry, simply because I’m lazy. I feel like anything more than friendship with anyone is just too much effort and the idea of this commitment scares me. I can’t imagining just giving (or sharing, depends on your perspective) half my life someone.
I don’t even like the idea of loving someone to an extent in which I need them, everyone wants to be loved but not everyone wants to love.
Despite all this I still read shoujo mangas and romance novels, for a reason that I don’t know.

Shadow

I wasn’t a happy child
This didn’t particularly bother me
Never did it make me go wild
Instead I felt somehow free
In all my never ending loneliness

My parents did no wrong in my upbringing
I was just weird
An anomaly or something
Other kids thought of me to be feared
So I never made a single friend

Not until I was nine
I noticed that she followed me for a while
I quickly claimed her as mine
My only friend who was always within a mile
We immediately took a liking to each other

My parents never took a liking like I did
But I think I loved her
She was a weird kid
Like me, we fit together
She was stranger and darker but that didn’t matter, not to me

I really needed her at night
When my parents used to fight
And tell me everything was gonna be alright
So I prayed she would be there with all my might
But she never did appear

For years we grew up by each other’s side
Her company was all I needed
Until she died
Or maybe she was alive
But she would never leave without saying goodbye

I miss her
I’ve made countless more friends
And a string of lovers
But no one meant anything compared to her
I miss my loneliness

Sometimes when I’m walking to work
Through the empty streets
Sometimes busy
I never notice anymore
But sometimes I swear from the corner of my eye that I see her

Lurking behind me that that shadowy figure
That I miss, I still miss her

Goodbye A Levels

All my bitter memories
Taken by one black bin bag
A heavy burden of sadness and nostalgia
Ripping through these bags

They are gone
These memories are not yet forgotten

All those years
Filled with drawings
Writings
Pictures

My memories

Will never leave

Because they are no longer bitter
They are sweet

I regret nothing