Forgotten

I'm standing on a bridge, looking at the water. I'm holding a chain with a ring on it. It's swinging so close to the water, so close to it's story's end.
It makes me think about every memory that get lost. Every important message someone forgot. Everything just gone...
Like the water under the bridge.
It makes me think of fallen soldiers who died in meaningless war and battles. It makes me think of loving grandparents forgotten in institutions. Of artists that never found their way and that are now swimming in small circles, like fish in a bowl.  Of forgotten toys left to collect dust in an attic, while they were once the only thing that protected you from the monsters under your bed.
Makes me think of dry rose petals, ripped bookpages and forgotten languages.
Makes me think of stories never told, lost in thoughts. Of bartenders, now old, who once dreamed about becoming spiritual leaders.
It makes me thinking of melodies that pop in our head, but disappear before we get the chance to remember them.

I put the chain with the ring back safely around my neck.
Maybe I want to hold on to this memory for just a while longer.

Cicmila

What would you miss if you...?

Think of the things you would miss the most if you were blind.

 - For me, it would be raindrops on my window. And a smile on people's faces. Also, Id' miss the autumn leaves. And the spring flowers.

And if you were deaf?

 - Music. The sweet sound of one note sliding into the other. And... the sound of someone saying they miss me. And only for a second, I'd miss hearing the wind in the trees.

If you couldn't speak, what would you miss saying?

 - "Sorry". And I'd miss the choice to say "I love you", and "I wish things were different". 

If you could not smell?

 - My dad's chocolate bread when it's just taken out of the oven. And the morning after a rainy night. And orange. I'd miss the smell of orange...

If you could not touch? What would you miss?

 - I'd miss... touching my hair. And silk. And I'd miss the tree bark. The way it lives under my touch.

And if you died this very instant, what would you wish you've lived?

 - I'd wish I had the chance to say my last words to the world. And I'd want to see one person. ...Or two. And I would wish I was more brave. That I had lived without the fear that stopped me from doing things I want my whole life. Yeah... And I would have loved to see the world, not being afraid of how people see me. 

 How do you feel now?

 - Sad. Because I still don't have the courage to do what I want. But I feel I'm a bit closer. I think I'll get there.

Enjoy life.

Cicmila

Lust - Confession #1

I confess.
Lust.

I grew up in a small city. I am a catholic. I was a good daughter. I didn't have any siblings, because my mother died when she gave me life. I like looking at her picture. I look a lot like her. My father is a good man. A farmer. Just, loyal... He's a good man.

I went to a small school with a class of twelve.I had the best grades. I studied for hours every day while my friends were out partying. I was the best of the best, and my dream was to go to a big city to study.

My school gave out one scholarship every year to the best student. That was my ticket out. So on our graduation day, I sat confident that I had achieved my goal. Then, the principal called out the name of the scholarship award winner.

The mayor's daughter.

She went off to the big city, finished the prestige college, and I stayed here, and became a teacher, convincing myself that that is what my mother would want me to do. My dad passed away, proud of me so much that he would raise to the sky every time he would see me.

The mayor's daughter lived my dream in the big city, working on top of a skyscraper. Once, I went to the big city. I was walking past a restaurant when I saw her. She was everything I dreamed of being.
That was MY dream she was living!
MY life!

I WANT IT BACK!

...so I took it.

Unlike You

There's an ache in the back of my head

But I don't mind

I didn't go out of line

It reminds me that I am not dead

Unlike you.

I see you every day, walking around

But your eyes are empty

It's like your soul

Is nowhere to be found.

You don't want to listen

The only words you really know

Are the ones that are written

But those aren't words you hear, they're letters

And letters can't hurt

Unlike words that beat you until you can't breathe

And leave you lying in the dirt

You can't fight back, they disappear

It's like they run away

They don't want to face you

They can't stand your fear

And you are afraid

If you're not you're a fool

And I know you're not, because once

...You had a soul.

And I can't promise tomorrow will be better

But I can hope

And as long as there's mystery in the air

And a letter to tear,

While there's faith to be burned

And stories to be told

I will fight for that tomorrow, and the day after

I will fight for you

Because there's an ache in the back of my head.

And I know... I am not dead.

Nonself

Nonself Definition: That which is not oneself.

But who exactly am I? All my life I've been shaped by other people's actions and words, that I don't think I know who I am.
It's sad, for me. I'm becoming just another one shaped by society.

Well I say NO.
I will not stand the hypocritical image of the person I have to be in order to be accepted in society. I will not break under their pressure. I will not be shaped and molded like everyone else.

You cannot make another one out of me. I have no mold. I am unique and special and everyone else is different than me.
They will try to tame me, to take me away from my being. But I will stand firm. I will stand and serve as an example for everyone else, no matter how strong or weak.

I refuse to become anything but what I am. I will not let you or anyone else tell me what I need to be, how to act or what to look like.

I will not become nonself. Because I can.

Cicmila

Definitions.

Define.


Love - a profoundly tender, passionate affection for another person.
         - a person toward whom love is felt; beloved person; sweetheart.

Memory - a mental impression retained; a recollection.

Faith - confidence or trust in a person or thing.
        - belief that is not based on proof.
        - belief in anything, as a code of ethics, standards of merit, etc.

Wish - to want; desire; long for
         - to entertain wishes

Story - a fictitious tale, shorter and less elaborate than a novel.

Elephant - either of two large, five-toed pachyderms of the family Elephantidae,characterized by a long, prehensile trunk formed of the nose and upper lip.

Home - a house, apartment, or other shelter that is the usual residence of a person,family, or household.
          - the place in which one's domestic affections are centered.

Definition - the act of making definite, distinct, or clear; a defining:
               - the condition of being definite, distinct, or clearly outlined

Cicmila

Letter #3 "The one who waited"

Hello, old friend!

Or have you forgotten all about me? Because... I haven't forgotten about you. I think I will begin this letter thinking about the past. I loved you, Wilbur. You helped me out through school. You were kind to me when everyone else would call me names. Even though you said that we could never be friends in front of others because of my colored skin, you would still take me to the park every day after school were we would be alone for hours, just talking. Oh the dreams we shared!

And, there was that one night, I do think I remember it well. It was the last day of our high school. You were to go off to the world, to college, and I was to go and help my parents at the farm. You were as sad as I was, but it didn't stop you from promising that in 50 years you will show up at the same train station where I watched you disappear that day. You said "I'll come back, my dear. You have to wait for me there! And then I'll take you away with me!" I told only one person you said that. My mother. Though, she passed away quite some time ago, I still remember her words, she told me you were lying. And that you only said 50 years because you were hoping I'd forget about it.

But, old friend, I remember you. And your promise. And I stood on that station from dusk till dawn and all the way to the night again. I think a thousand trains passed, but non of them was yours. I waited. I kept my part of the promise. I waited. But you never showed up.

Why did you lie to me Wilbur? Why couldn't you keep your promise? I miss you so much. Every day, I miss you more and more, and by this time it started to hurt. And now my heart is broken. Why did you have to make me feel this way? Why? Why? Why?!

Still, old friend, I wish you all the best, even tough you don't know who this is.

The one who waited for you