The Law of Love

“We waste so much time on people. We let people waste our feelings for them. We spend so much time making an effort for someone who isn’t going to be there forever.” No. We cannot continue to spread this common thought.

Imagine never spending any time or effort on anyone. Imagine never wondering if the person you’re involved with in that moment is the one. How would you find them then? It’s such a ridiculous notion.

You have one life. One life with a million tiny moments, if we sit and wait for the BIG moments to come, we’ll end up with an empty life.

C.S Lewis has already said this, in the most perfect way:

“To love at all is to be vulnerable. Love anything and your heart will be wrung and possibly broken. If you want to make sure of keeping it intact you must give it to no one, not even an animal. Wrap it carefully round with hobbies and little luxuries; avoid all entanglements. Lock it up safe in the casket or coffin of your selfishness. But in that casket, safe, dark, motionless, airless, it will change. It will not be broken; it will become unbreakable, impenetrable, irredeemable. To love is to be vulnerable.”

Therefore discrediting someone you might have thought you loved, or even did actually love, no matter how long or short, is not necessary. I used to believe that Love once found in someone cannot be lost. I misunderstood what love was.

Love, in any form, yes love has many forms, cannot be lost. Love is an energy. Just as energy cannot be lost, but only changes from one form to another, Love too never fades, it only moves and transforms.

Take it this way, you love apples but not pears. You love your dog (more than people sometimes). Why is it that you cannot love all the people you know? Your love for apples isn’t a friendly one, its sense based. Your love for your dog isn’t romantic, it’s companionship. I can love people physically, emotionally, friendly, romantically, sexually, and wholly even.

Sometimes I tell someone I really like them, in my head I’m telling them I love them, but with society and our small ignorant understanding of love, using the word LOVE just complicates things too much.

So in saying that love transforms, I am agreeing that you can suddenly not be in love with someone anymore, but you cannot unlove them. You might never see them again and you might want to be angry with them for all eternity, but you did not lose any love or time loving them. You still care for them, even if you feel foolish about it.

I’ve had a few long debates with friends over the different terms linked to love. Particularly these four: In love, Love, Soulmate, True love.

Here’s my understanding:

  Love is the energy we exude for anyone close to us.

Being in love with someone is experiencing romantic love and emotions towards someone, normally just one person at a time. This can fade but can also be created.

-        A soulmate is anyone who matches your soul. You can have multiples of these. Your sibling may be your soulmate, through life experience and closeness. Your best friend may be your soulmate through experience or common attributes. You can have emotional, sexual, intellectual, physical and even virtual connections with some people that are so strong that they represent another version of you. This is a soul mate. Their soul is like yours.

-        Then there is true love. For me there is only one, I might be proven wrong on this point, but in my belief there is one true love for everyone. Some might not want it, some might not see it. Some might throw it away or lose it before finding it.

When you find it, you know, because life as you know it, will change. Of course soulmates can change your life too, even just loved ones, but your true love is bigger than that. Your true love can, and probably should, encompass all these kinds of loves. It’s as if your true love can be your soulmate and you can be in love with them and love every part of them, whereas with the other cases they do not necessarily need the others to exist.

I am not an expert of love, I am merely trudging through the mud and carrying all my (albeit not very much) experience on my heart. I love many, I have been in love a few times, I have found a soulmate at least once and I am looking for my true love. I’m happy, and sad, and confused and tired, but I cannot give up. I cannot even look on the past and feel I have wasted my time. For every man I have been in love with that wasn’t in love with me in return, has taught me about myself, and about others. For every person I love that I no longer have in my life I have learnt how to share my light without diminishing what is left inside me.

I keep going, looking for love and giving it where it is needed, wrapped in a smile and warm fuzziness.

(Written 03-11-2015)

It's all in the film

They say music is the best escape from anything, the best way to let out feelings without words of your own. People say they find themselves in song, that everything feels better in music. Maybe it’s true, for them...

For me it’s in film.

I’ve been told that I’m too much of a dreamer, judged for acting like my life is a movie; that my idea that true love exists and will find me one day is too much like a movie and therefor an unreal dream and seemingly impossible. How can anyone ever know my dreams? They can’t possibly tell me I’m wrong, they don’t live in my world...

I don’t know any other experience besides my own. Telling me your story will only inspire me for my own. My life is filled with perfect movie moments, and I treasure them greatly. I do believe I am the star of my own show, and my life is exactly as I see it.

I’m a tremendous lover of film. When I need advice, I do the obvious things: asking people around me, researching answers in books and on the internet, but my most remarkable answers and inspirations are always found in the same place… In films…

It’s not necessarily even a film about the issue I seem to have, sometimes it just makes me cry and then I’ll have a brilliant idea on how to fix my life, or perhaps it makes me laugh and suddenly I have the energy to build a better model than the drawing I just messed up.

Film, for me, is about looking deeper. Someone had to make some very definitive decisions for a film to be what it is. They leave nothing to chance, except your interpretation and what you take from it. From lighting to set, from actors and characters to location and background music; here everything coming together is what matters most – but the result is not to have a great film only, no, it’s to invoke feelings, stimulate thought and encourage someone to hope or fear or try.

My darkest days have been filled with light by the simple gesture of a friend. You could have no “real” physical friends, yet have the best friendships anyone has ever had. I find solace with the fictional friends in my world. To you this might seem strange, and you might even call me crazy, but I have friends that won’t judge me or question me about my problems, they just entertain me, console me and give me answers where others would not manage. In reality, the answers are my own, from inside. We all have that ability, to know what we need and how we feel, some just ignore it. For me, to find it, I need a reminder to look within.

It’s funny, for a film to be made a range of people need to make decisions, about who they are, who their audience is, what the aim is etc. To be able to experience a film, for yourself, you need to make decisions too; will I let this film be good for me or bad for me? Will I let it be a simple, straight forward story with perhaps a lesson? Or even no lesson with just a basic plot? Will I ignore all obviousness and see the deeper meaning that only exists for me?

Just like deciding who are, and want to be, in the same way we have to decide what we want and need from the things around us. Every day we make the decision to be happy, or not.

Take the leap and try a different choice. Be inspired by everything all at once and feel your soul take flight into the possibilities of your imagination…

P.S Be you

Am I crying because I’m lonely? Or because I’m scared?

Fuck what if I never find you? The fear of never reaching a goal is absolutely horrific. It’s not so much a goal though, it’s more like the entire purpose of my life.

Our hearts break, often. And the courageous few of us will keep getting up, having faith that it’s all worth it in the end, worth spending the time to perhaps meet that one person. Sometimes you meet someone and you wonder… Is this the one? Could I love THIS person forever? Mostly though it ends up as either a huge fail or disappointment. As with this (the way I feel right now), you can sit at home and be upset about it, which for a little while makes it feel better, but eventually you should get up again. Trying, even if it’s for the millionth time, is always better than giving up.

Equally you can blame everyone you meet, or even yourself, but that’s not the reason it didn’t work is it? Maybe you were on different paths, maybe your ideas about life, love and everything in between are different, or maybe you’re just not meant to be… Accepting it is the easiest way to get over it and enjoy your life.

For me, this all happens often, but I’ve found that most people I’ve encountered, that are no longer in my life per se, have taught me some extremely valuable lessons, be it about myself, or what I like, maybe what I dislike or even what I never knew I wanted. I don’t have to love them anymore, or care about their lives and choices either, I don’t have to stay in contact or worry about running into them. All I need is to become more of myself, more of who my “one” is looking for.

I can’t say I’m grateful for the things they’ve done to me, nor can I say I don’t hate  apart of them, but given the choice? I would do it all the same way again… My life is so full… so wonderfully full of experiences and lessons learnt. I won’t ever give them the pleasure of having been important to me anymore. It’s just me and what I have left.

Liar!

While just sitting on her bed, dressed in only underwear she felt naked, yet she was still lying. Slowly pulling off her fake nails, one by one, her tears fell all over her crossed legs. One by one she angrily threw them at the wall, as the last one fell to the ground she hastily removed her new padded bra that instantly helped her to lie about her boobs every time she wore it. Heaving it across the room she finally felt naked enough to convince herself she’d removed all evidence of lies. Unfortunately for her she was forgetting the biggest lie of them all.

I’m a liar she realised, slowly putting down the teacup. I am a liar. All her faults and problems and lies came crashing down on her and suddenly the tears were running over all her issues, as if to wash them away or to cleanse her, but sadly nothing seemed it would ever help her get rid of what she’d done.

Suddenly they're gone

How the fuck do you deal with losing someone you love?

I’ve never lost anyone like that. I mean, people I love have left, but none have died. They’re still here somewhere in the world.

Imagine fining the perfect person, and they love you back as much as you love them. They’re your whole world, and then one day, even if you can’t stand a single thing they do anymore, they’re just gone. No fucking goodbye, no warning. Nothing.

He’s lying in bed, the same bed he’s been sleeping in for the past 40 years, but this time, shes not there, and she’s never coming back. He looks to her side, the side where she used to snore and irritate him night after night, and it breaks your heart.

I hate that we search for the perfect person, because there really is such a thing, and then from the moment we find that person, however long it takes, we live in constant fear of losing them. I can’t imagine what I’d do. It’s easy to think: “I’ll just go on with life and try get over it” “Everyone loses someone at some point” bla bla bla, no one knows until we get there, and that’s what scares me. Going through the motions, going on with life, but half of you is completely missing. How the fuck.

 

I wrote this about 2 years ago, regarding my boyfriend at the time's issue with death, so it feels like it fits: 

I guess that’s how you really know that you love someone, your feel their great pain even though you have no idea how they feel. I feel only a fraction of it – and for him. At first I didn’t know what I was feeling or even why, but it dawned on me this morning as the messages of thoughts and memories started popping up. His sadness and pain starts way before the actual day. I mean how could it not? Suddenly all the memories are squashed into a few short days. Good ones, bad ones, all of them. And life doesn’t stop for you to handle your extra emotions, it keeps going and sometimes gets harder right there when you least need it. I can understand the need to be alone and even the need to shut people out completely. It’s his very own situation – and even though his mom and brother also have that situation theirs is different (from his and one another’s). Everybody deals with it in their own way.

I never had the pleasure of meeting him, but I really wish I had. So many people, all the time, talk about his wonderfulness – and his whole family are so happy when they mention him (their eyes literally sparkle) even when it’s on days like these. He is so much a part of their lives still that I can understand why today of all days is the most upsetting.

RIP Mr Faria, I never met you but somehow I know you, because people are not known by their looks or their things, but by the way other’s speak of them and remember them when they’re gone.

05-05-2000 - 05-05-2012

 

Recollecting 21

So I’ve decided to take some indirect advice from a friend, and write in my blog more. The topic is easy, it’s my life. Easy. Have you ever thought about your life and how one thing leads to another and then another? Imagine recording every moment. Imagine writing down every single tiny thing that happens and the thoughts that go with it.

 

I’ve been contemplating this for quite some time, and by placing my fingers on this keyboard I am making it real. But let’s take a moment to consider the form, and the content. Life, it happens continuously and in a row, right? But do we think back to moments and feelings in a line and in chronological order? I certainly don’t… So here’s my solution: I’m going to write it as it comes to me and as it bothers me. I’ve probably said this before but this is my therapy. Not many people I know, know my issues, but you dear reader, being my anonymous disguise, you do.

 

To be able to write about a life, there are so many things to consider, firstly the characters, the people in your life that would be and are affected by recording events. It’s quite hard to just start, especially in the middle. There are many things that people don’t know, things that matter to you and the stories you’re telling. Ah this is going to be one hell of a ride, good luck.

 

 

For my first recollection I’ve chosen my 21^st Birthday.

Did you know I’m 21? Yes, and I’m almost 22. Still I can very clearly remember what the smile on my face felt like when my brother stood up and told everyone in that little hall that he loved his short sister. I don’t think I can ever forget that night, but more importantly I won’t ever forget the smallest gestures. For his speech, he played some background music, it was barely audible, but somehow only I needed to hear it. Not one moment when I think of it, can I keep the tears away. “Pretty Woman” reached so far into my heart, and said so much more than anyone could ever imagine. That young soul standing there was secretly making me the happiest person alive, and that without words.

Alright tears in my eyes, let me take you to that night… well that event.

 

As for any young girl I’m sure, a 21^st birthday is a pretty big day. It’s not big like a wedding but it is a pretty huge deal. I’d been thinking about it for a while, and as I sort of have a reputation for throwing great, very clean parties (back at home), I knew this was my chance to make my point and show everyone who I am.

Now to be able to tell this properly certain things need to be made clear. I live in Pretoria, now with my brother, but for 3 years it was just me in my tiny bachelor’s flat. Also my parents, great parents, aren’t as involved as other people’s parents. They don’t plan parties, they don’t surprise in the traditional sense and aren’t really too great at making a plan or sticking to one. No judgement, it’s just something to remember always.

With my parents not being planners, and my not having a huge family, my wanting to do a rather big 21^st was almost overlooked. I had permission to do whatever I wanted, but money was always an issue. I finally managed to get my parents to agree to let me use the Polish Hall for the whole thing. My best friend, who plays a huge role in this event and many others, helped me a lot. We tried to come up with the cheapest ideas for a great party. The hall I could get for free for an evening because I’m Polish and my dad knows the Polish Community’s “manager”. To fully use this private venue to our advantage, we decided to do a formal dinner, with a party to follow and then sleeping over, right there in the hall afterwards. Clever plan that was, we could get completely drunk and stay safe while we slept it off.

As my love life would have it, it wasn’t ready for a big important event and so the boy I was seeing at the time backed out two weeks before the party. This is actually, in retrospect, one of the better things to happen to me regarding men leaving. (For more on THIS boy, see a later post)

As you will most likely learn from other stories to follow, I almost always have a crush or two in the back of my mind, and often a more main character that I am crushing on harder. So on my list of guests I happen to have a boy that I had a long standing crush on, a freshly rediscovered crush and of course a past crush, with a bit of history. So the fact that the main man disappeared from the story is actually to my advantage because I would be able to party freely and flirt as I wished without the “main man” permanently attached to me. Imagine having to entertain all these guests and be the star of the show while having to also attend to a boy who isn’t entirely ready to commit to you while you also have at least 3 other more eligible men around. No thanks. For any other event, where you are not the main focus, having a date is fine, it’s not necessary but it’s nice to have.

Continuing with the guest list; my family and family friends. Actually an entire family, that I grew up with. My dad’s best friend’s family. I was at his oldest son’s wedding and the youngest son was the reason I had my first kiss (he was my second). It was only right for them to be there. I invited another Polish family but they were already back in Poland at the time. My family came in all completeness. As I said, we are a small family, just me and my brother; my mom and dad; my grandparents from my mom’s side; my uncle; and my mom’s aunt and uncle. That makes 9 of us at the main table.

 

With the Polish family I decided to seat fellow Polish people, the older boys, who happened to all be crushes too. That accounts for 8 more people. That leaves the Pretoria table and the Vaal table. These included friends from primary school, high school, varsity, boyfriends of those friends and other Polish people. Newly acquired friends, rekindled friendships from way back when and friends of friends that were now my friends too. It’s sad that I can tell you that people who supposedly knew me since forever were not there, many failing to even reject my invite. It made me nervous that so many “dear friends’ had rejected, but in the end I can honestly say that I didn’t notice their absence at all. It’s so clichéd to say that it’s better to know who your true friends are, but it honestly feels amazing to let off all that dead weight.

Some only stayed a little while, some arrived late and some came back in the morning to help clean up. I couldn’t have imagined better friends. Lol “Imagined friends”, I’ve never had any of those.

It’s Thursday night, my best friend and I are just finishing up at the theatre and making our way to my hometown. She’s sleeping over, because we have an early start the next day. We arrive at my parent’s house around 1am. Time for bed.

Friday morning. Today is the day.

We wake up to find my grandmother in the kitchen offering us breakfast. I’m so grateful for her, they came a day earlier, to be sure to be here to offer her help wherever she could. They even slept in the caravan so that my best friend would have a place to sleep when we arrived, and so that my mom’s aunt and uncle could sleep in the guest room for Friday night.

Thankfully we had set up everything that needed to be moved to the hall as we’d arrived last night, so all we had to do now was load my car, pop in the people and we were on our way. It was going to be a busy morning. My brother and grandfather took the bakkie (pick up truck), while my grandmother, my best friend and I took my car. When we arrived at the hall, I realised we didn’t have the right keys, which upset my grandfather. He’s quite a difficult person.

We unloaded everything, and left my grandmother and brother there; my friend and I took my grandfather home and then set off to find the man with the other set of keys. We also bought the flowers, picked up the rest of the things we needed. Getting back to the hall we finally opened up, took all the alcohol inside, set up the tables and started explaining to my helpers what I wanted where. It was already afternoon, and my best friend and I had to run off to get our hair done.

 Looking pretty, well kind of, we went back to the hall. My friend took my brother to go buy the balloons and have them filled with helium, while my grandmother and I arranged the flowers and finished the décor. My DJ friend came over to drop off the music he’d arranged, the “spit-braai” guy arrived with all his things and started to set up. We decided to leave the keys with him, and guaranteed him we’d be back soon, and then we finally managed to leave the hall to go home to change.

 

At home, my mom’s aunt and uncle had already arrived, and my uncle from Cape Town too. It was hectic trying to greet them and also get away from them so that we could bath and get dressed. A party starting at 18:30 is just too early, LOL. My best friend left as soon as she was done because we’d heard some of our out-of-town friends were already there. I was about to leave when the rental car my uncle came in, was parked behind my car, and the keys locked inside. You can’t imagine the stress I was beginning to feel. After a while, and a few pushes, they moved the car and rushing my brother and his girlfriend into the car, we were on our way. Halfway there I freaked out; I really wanted to wear the (cheap) ring my brother bought me because it was just so beautiful and special to me at that point in my life.

Anyways, arriving to the party there were already a few cars parked, luckily the car guard (well the guy who lives in the hall that we hired as a car guard) was there to assist them.

Before we get to the actual arrival… let me describe the venue to you.

Theme: Beauty and the Beast, the formal ball scene at least. Think Yellow, because it makes me happy, think light hearted decoration, a few balloons, a few baby photos, and carnations.

Between the trees there’s a little gap… walking through it you are welcomed by two hanging lines of white and yellow balloons, and helium balloons tied to logs… the door to the hall had a string of fairy lights. Going through the door you’d find the “photo” stage to your right, and to the left the “gifts” table, and then the dinner tables. To the back of the hall were the dinner and drinks tables, and then the bathrooms to the back left…

 

 

Alright back to the arrival…

 
When I arrived I really wanted to make an entrance, but half the people weren’t there yet and I really had to welcome the adults that had already arrived. People were pretty impressed by the dress: my big-bell fairy tale light pink dress. I felt like a princess and many people seemed to agree. Not everyone recognised me at first; it was quite funny trying to explain that I was the birthday girl.

Soon everyone was arriving and sitting down and trying to get things going. The decision was quickly made to have everyone sit down, so that we could make the speeches and start the dinner line up. My uncle was asked to be Master of Ceremonies, basically because I knew he could do it since he did it for my mom’s wedding. It was short and sweet; he opened the floor for my brother who proceeded to make the nicest speech I’d ever heard, and all about me. J To thank everyone, I tried to say the thing’s I’d been planning to say all week, but I think I failed quite badly, at least I managed to thank everyone for coming. Then it was dinner time. Finally.

While the family table got their food, I made the rounds and took photos with as many people as possible. Also throughout the course of the first part of the evening we tried to take as many stage photos as possible. We managed to get some great group photos. After dinner things started to fall apart as far as I could see. Most of my friends went outside, some to smoke. My mom started nagging me that there was no music and that she really wanted to dance. My grandfather was getting annoying again and hinted constantly that he wanted to go home. My grandmother didn’t want to leave but what can you do? My dad finally gave in and took the four old people home. My uncle seemed to be having fun talking to the people standing around, with their ages ranging from 18 to 29 it shouldn’t have been too hard.

When my dad got back it must have been around 22:00. My mother was ready to go home, luckily they’d brought the bedding I forgot to pack. My parents and my uncle left, most of my friend were already tipsy and I could finally start drinking properly. I changed from my big ball dress to a tight bright pink short dress with polka dots. Now the party starts…

With music blaring we tried to convince people to come in and dance, we even found the switch for the UV light. I was drinking my champagne, from the bottle because I’m classy like that. I got to dance with my "freshly rediscovered crush", but we are just friends, haha. He kept talking about his girlfriend, but still called me hot. I like my compliments, I really do. My best friend came running, with her phone in hand, saying we should make a video. So I grabbed my big pink 21 balloon, tied it to my waist, grabbed more white helium balloons from outside and tied them to my wrists, then we set off. I’d run up to anyone and everyone, and say: “Say happy birthday, now kiss me” So many people thought it was a photo, so the video is hilarious. I got a few epic long lasting cheek kisses, and some redo kisses. I got hugs, and one guy even pinched my ass. I’m sure his girlfriend wouldn’t approve. Someone was sucking up the helium and I decided that for once in my life I also wanted to do it. My best friend grabbed a balloon, opened it and handed it to me. My first words were: “Thank you so much for coming,” “It’s my birthday bitches!” then I ran inside and asked more people to wish me a happy birthday. I’m sure it seems I was pretty drunk, but I wasn’t. I get overly excited on fun. I love being the centre of attention, and I love being funny. I get incredibly hyper, and hilarious when other people are drinking, it saves me money too.

 

 

 Then somehow we managed to get EVERYONE inside, and I stood up on the stage. Phone ready to film, I tried to quiet the group so I could say thank you. It was hard work, I ended up swearing, which only made it more me. I swear a lot. Seriously, my favourite word is FUCK. The video here is also quite funny, as you see people grabbing my shoes and others trying to pour their drinks into my champagne bottle. It was a truly disgusting concoction in the end. I think I ended up hiding it behind a plant. With everyone pouring, and hardly anyone being sober anymore, my hands were so sticky with alcohol, still it was a great moment. We started dancing again, and many went outside. Some people went home, and others tried to start the fire outside, behind the hall. (By the way, this venue is great, I’ve been going to parties here since I was born, but I’ll explain that some other time.)

Everyone talks about birthday sex. Yes it would’ve been so cool, but I could never understand the logistics. I mean, where, when, how? I am a pretty good, self-acclaimed though, responsible host. I could never leave people to go and be selfish. Besides the one I really wanted to be with that night had already left, having got high in the parking lot and then instead of becoming happy, became more mellow, which caused him to leave due to too many of my friends asking him to re-join the party. (I don’t do weed, just for the record. Never have.)

Other than that I knew I wasn’t going to get anything from anyone else there, not even a kiss, so I didn’t dwell on it. I turned to the music, played my ultimate favourite party songs and tried to convince those who could still walk, to dance with me. My "freshly rediscovered crush" came inside to dance with me again, for one song. How I wished he could’ve been more into me, to this day I think I still wish for it.

That left me and my “older cousin” dancing. This was around midnight… There he told me that he was proud of the person I’d become, and that he’s be taking care of me if I wanted to get trashed. I didn’t want to, so we decided to see what was happening everywhere else. As we left the hall, we found one of my better new friends, making out with a guy from our friend’s friends circle. We spotted blood between their faces, which was quite worrying. Trying to separate a drunken girl that is pretty much wrapped around a guy on a chair is quite a challenging feat. It turns out she’d walked into a tree, and cut her face. In the morning she had an incredibly bruised face, and a few scary scratches, luckily for her when she woke up she was still drunk, so the pain hadn’t struck yet.

Thankfully my “older cousin” said he’d help her get cleaned up and fix her face, while I went to see who was still awake at the fire. Many people had gone to sleep by now, and only my “freshly rediscovered crush”, “younger cousin” and one more person were awake. We sat at the fire for a little bit, I think I danced around it too. There was talk of smoking weed and then going to sleep, so my “freshly rediscovered crush” carried me (peppa) to the hall, I wasn’t wearing shoes anymore okay! People were asleep all over the place, and it seemed to me my bedding was shared between them all. Being a little drunk, I loudly started complaining about it, but finally settled down on the floor, with my “freshly rediscovered crush”, sharing a thin blanket and using my big ball dress as a pillow. In South Africa, in the Vaal, which is almost on the river, it gets frieken cold here in winter. My birthday is in August, winter. I love winter, and I love freezing weather, but I swear this was one of my coldest nights ever. I was shivering so bad that my teeth were rattling. I can’t explain how cold it was, even my “freshly rediscovered crush” hugging me to try warm me up wasn’t helping, though I must say it was really comfy.

Apparently while I was outside, people were throwing up all over both bathrooms, and blocking the toilets. I have such great friends that one of them cleaned up both bathrooms while I was asleep. He didn’t even complain about it, I almost didn’t even find out who cleaned it. I was woken pretty early in the morning, people were making arrangements for lifts because certain people got left behind when their friends got upset and left. I also discovered that there was a “bed” made for me along the wall, next to my best friend. She claims that I didn’t hear her telling me to sleep with her, and that I was more drunk than I remember. Ah well, “good freezing closeness” memories I guess.

The people from far, left early, while some friends came back. A friend that I never really officially called my best friend, but seems to be one of those life-long friends, came back to fetch the guy who cleaned the bathroom, but also to help us clean up the hall. She’s just as wonderful.

We cleaned up and packed away everything. By lunch time it was all over, everyone had left and the hall was clean again. The party was over, but I wasn’t actually 21 yet.

My dad, and my uncle, came to fetch things from the hall and everything made its way home. At home, my mom’s aunt and uncle were on their way home as well. So I thanked them for my gift (which I hadn’t seen yet) and said goodbye. The rest of my family and I sat down in the sunniest room in our house, and while discussing the party, I opened my gifts, photographing each one and taking care to appreciate everyone.

I got great gifts for my birthday, some that made me cry so much, like my epic Coca~Cola t-shirt that my brother made me, with my nickname on it. I got things that made me realise that I do have people that I know me, but my favourite memory is really of the entire weekend. I couldn’t have imagined a more perfect celebration. It wasn’t without fault, and as I type this it seems to have missed a lot, but to me, and only for me, it was one of my most favourite events.

This post isn’t greatly personal, and it doesn’t have much juicy information at all, but I think it sort of describes me. Perhaps I just haven’t stewed too much on this one, but there it is.

PS: This is only part one of the 21st celebrations. I had a second party in Pretoria...

 

Defining Love

[Originally written 11-04-2013]

What the fuck?

What is love then? Is it a child grabbing your hand to be near you? Is it a child hugging you because it’s scared?

How the fuck are we meant to love one another and each other if we can’t find it? Why is it that LOVE is such a serious and big thing? Surely love should be the most common thing to have for another person. Surely that’s why we invented words like in love and infatuation, so that LOVE itself could be free to use as we please with whomever we love. Actual love is not the act of having stars in our eyes or blushing when we say someone’s name. NO. Love is a warm feeling you have from knowing someone, it’s a smile brought on by the fact that you appreciate any other person for being alive and being who they are. It means someone besides yourself means something to your existence.

At this very moment I want love.; Pure appreciation and admiration and maybe even more. That’s the problem I guess, when defining love, we often attached things we associate with the feeling of love, clouding the true feeling of love.

I want that baby now. I want that man now. I want that fucking hug that I long so badly for. I want these tears to be worth it and I want them to mean something to someone. I want someone to be as bewildered by me as I am by them. Just for once I want someone to be highly interested in me and me in them. I want to be able to say I love you without being scared its “too soon” or that I have to defend myself according to the sex I’m talking to. I have friends, whom I love dearly, and I have men that I regard highly. I even have girls that I am so incredibly happy to have found. No I’m not gay, I’m not a slut, and I’m not over-emotional. I am a very emotive (there’s a difference) person with a huge heart and a great capacity to love.

 

I hate you so so incredibly much. Really, I can’t explain the pain I feel when I think of you. It’s not about being fair or jealous or in love or hurt or lust or even just loneliness. It’s about the fact that we had the chance of a lifetime to make something wonderful and we broke it. Maybe it’s failure that’s making me angry, or maybe it’s my injured pride that I broke something that used to be so special. Point is it’s not there anymore. All the things that went wrong, and those that went right should have been frozen and left in time, but instead we defrosted it and brought it back to life against its will, in turn making it break in ways it should never have had to endure anyways.

 

[Originally written 11-04-2013]

Always right there

Have you ever been given attention? Have you ever been given attention only for it to be taken away too quickly? Imagine the hunger, imagine the incredible amount of want, to feel appreciated or even noticed. Imagine never feeling happy because someone else said you’re beautiful.

Now imagine after years of feeling this way, suddenly, without warning it all changes and for a few moments at a time, repeatedly, you are a star. You shine so incredibly bright, and so many want to know you, and then at the end, just like watching a movie, everyone goes home and back to their lives. Everyone but you. You’re still there.

You’re still there.
Like you’re just a theatre. You’re always there, aging with time, often admired and even studied from the outside. People pass you by all the time, many take what you have to offer and use it to enrich their lives, your purpose is appreciated only by some. There are those privileged few who really get to know you, those who take care of you and love you for all the small things you are. They won’t always stay, but some will try their best to be there as long as they can.

In my life, often, I feel like a room. A space. A space where people find happiness. A space where people can go to be alone and really let their fears and emotions go. A space that will always make you feel welcome and will always try it’s best to make you feel alright again. Yes, you will always find people that use a space, trash it and leave it to someone else to fix. The problem with leaving a space to be fixed by another, is that no one has time for that. We are all so busy that we can’t fix what isn’t ours. Except this space, somehow this space manages to clear up the mess another has left, and is always ready to be there for the next person. Somehow this space manages to not get caught up by those who don’t appreciate what they’ve found or what they had. Maybe in the dark this space closes it’s doors and just breathes, maybe it just switches off the lights and lets it go. Maybe this space knows that not all people are the same and that there is that one person who will always come back, maybe it’s the hope that one day it will be appreciated for the beautiful, giving, loving, space that it is.

I am this space.

Imagine a world without me...

I’ve come to the sad realisation that I often prefer to pass out than to fall asleep. Yes there’s a difference. To pass out you need to be either tipsy (or drunk even) or so tired it’s not possible to wait to sleep. To fall asleep is difficult, it’s only occurred to me now that whenever I try to sleep, I struggle for hours, and then I sleep really badly. What does this mean? My subconscious is so busy that I just can’t manage to LET myself sleep? I need my body to force me?

I’m so scared I miss my life. I don’t want to die. I could cry about this every night. It’s so strange if you consider how I talk to people about my life – indirectly I’m telling them things from the heart, but they can never know. Let me explain: “My friends say it seems like I’m in love with you” really is just me saying “I’m crazy in love with you”. “I cried myself to sleep thinking of stupid shit and missing my dad” really is me saying that “I’m scared to shit of my thoughts and they got so bad last night that he died. I don’t want him to die.” “I had a really bad scary dream last night!” means “my thoughts are freaking me out, I’m scared”

I can’t explain, but eventually I will be able to, doesn’t matter what I say I can’t explain, eventually I am able.

I don’t want to miss my life. I’m so scared I’m going to die.  (Crying so much right now). I know no one wants to die, but seriously, I cry about it so much more than I care to admit. It’s strange, as soon as the thought pops up in between the others it overrules everything, then it starts planting it’s feet, and the next thing on my mind is firstly how I don’t want to leave my family behind when I die – imagine that pain. Then simultaneously I’m thinking how I would no longer be alive if I ever lost the people closest to me. This might be the worst thing to say publicly, and I really don’t mean to offend, this is just how it works in my thoughts (which, remember, scare the shit out of me) but one of the biggest reasons I have ever cried in my life over and over and over is losing my brother. There is no bigger pain. I can’t explain how much I have cried over that, I feel so much pain just thinking it. The next person I have cried the most over is my dad. Of all the men in my life, I appreciate them all, but without those two men, I would be nothing. They have such an immense impact on my life – I will forever be grateful to them and appreciate them with all my heart. I love my mother too, and I cry about losing her too, but somehow… this opens the door for another very deeply emotional story...

I don’t care if the whole world knows this about me, or if no one ever reads this… Actually, that’s why it’s here. You (reading this) are my no one. Anonymity is one of my favourite disguises. You could be me and it wouldn’t matter. We could be twins, you could be the president or you could be a random stranger – you know something about me. This is a special, very very special thing to know about me.

Heart & Soul

I don’t even want to know why. Okay that’s a lie, I always want to know why; even if I regret knowing it later, I can’t not know. And it can be anything. I just have that need that I have to know.

It doesn’t really matter how often I do cry, especially over the same thing. It means that what I want is still what I want. And what I need is still found wanting in my heart and soul. It’s true I don’t always know what I want, and often I’ll decide and change my mind. But surely if I keep choosing that one thing it must mean that’s the one thing I really do want?

I used to say that I don’t mind fighting every single day as long as I see you. And I still believe that, but in a more defined way. I can take it when we fight but with reason and still love each other and still want to be together. I can even take it if we apologise afterwards still knowing we’ll fight over it again. That’s fine. However, I realised recently that I can’t live without apologies. I can’t live without accepting responsibility for our faults.

I don’t know about you, but walking into a room of people – known to me or not – I want to feel that sense of being alive. I need that touch or recognition from you that you know you’re there with me. And I’m there with you. WITH YOU. Maybe you don’t understand, or maybe you already feel it, but I don’t. I don’t feel like everyone knows I’m yours. I don’t get that feeling that you want the world to know I’m taken, and that YOU are the LUCKY GUY who has ME.

It’s a simple concept: One day you will meet that person who changes everything. Your life as you knew it before is really over, and without that one person you feel you will die. True. Your life will change a few times in your lifetime. It simply has to. Maybe it won’t be as clear to you as it is to others, but eventually you will realise the impact someone has had on your life. You might hate them for it, but you could also discover that you love them for it. I’m not saying it will be your one true love, it could be a friend or a long lost relative, it could even be someone you have known your whole life. Essentially, you should always be looking for a sign. You should always be aware and ready for that moment that could change the rest of your life from the way you know it.

I once wrote about the risks of living and the risks of waiting. Well in this case I think you should’nt wait too long. If you think you’ve found that one thing that makes you happy or maybe you think you’ve found the one you need to be happy forever more, then by all means, do something about it. By waiting you are only increasing your chances of losing your special thing. Just because I’m saying take the risk, doesn’t mean it will work out, but by waiting it doesn’t mean it will work out later. Some things just aren’t meant to be. The best way to know is to try. I’ve tried, and I think I’ll try again – sometimes you miss that one piece that proves it and the second time you look you see it better. So as for my contribution, besides my words and thoughts, I will today make the vow to try again.  Now my promise doesn’t mean I’m going to jump tomorrow, but I will make the effort and I will jump eventually. And by taking my advice I won’t be waiting very long to make that decision.

Here’s to risking it bravely, and no matter the outcome… I will eventually find my happiness…

I saw God today

I saw you today. It was magnificent. At first I just saw you, and then I smiled. In an instant everything came crashing in again and I lost sight of you. Within a second of seeing you, you were gone.

Then a few moments later, you appeared to me again, this time not subtly at all. This time I knew it was you and that you’d come back for me. I cried even at your wonder-full sight. I’d never seen you like this before, and I could not bring myself to share your beauty with anyone else.

You disappeared so soon again, but instead of the darkness from before, you left me in a brilliant brightness that filled me with hope.

With our brief encounter, I knew that my bewilderedness was necessary and I now believe in my thoughts again.

*Sun

Strange Passions

Being strange is my passion. Passion makes me happy. It’s not important if no one else in the entire world understands me, I will never be any different. I find anything and everything interesting and being a creative mind is brilliant and frustrating at the same time. I need and outlet, be it writing or drawing or building or singing or dancing. Here I have the chance to set free everything I write and I don’t care if I get judged for it. I do however apologise for this one, it’s extremely scattered and varied considering topics. Also some of it is continued from previous unexplainable issues. Just know that this is as close as anyone will ever get to knowing me fully.

Part of my year I live in a little flat, I work there too. My whole life for 60% of the year is completely contained in this one space. Frustration and creativity as well as boredom and happiness springs from these few walls and all of that could happen every hour. Some nights, my only escape is to go to the toilet. Even when I don’t need it, I go anyway. I sit there and pretend to pee. Just for about 5 minutes. Then I go back to working on my own nerves while doing work I actually secretly in the back of my mind love to do.

Isn’t it sad how there are so many women or couples that would love to have a baby and there are so many women not wanting that amazing little child that they have right there. Even if you don’t have the opportunity to raise the child, you don’t have the right to not want it. You made it, it’s not a mistake, it’s meant to be there, with you. It’s NOT fair! I want a wish* and I can’t have one because it’s not right for me right now.

So maybe one of the deepest reasons I want a wish* so badly is because of that inevitable, unconditional love, or maybe it’s that wish-wish* relationship that I long for. I don’t know how to have the one that I have, so my next option is to make one. Maybe in this new world where things are malleable according to the artist, maybe here we can create the things we never had, and the things we think our wishes* need. :’(

As an old lady one day, as “Rose”, I want to go out into the huge flowering garden at night, with the little garden lights on, and just dance around in circles like a child and be happy. I want a place to view the stars from. I really want to be that child-like old lady I always see in my mind.

Did you get loved enough? What’s enough?

It’s never too  late. Really. You can always try harder, you can always start again. You can always admit you are wrong and try again. IT IS NEVER TOO LATE.

Where in your life have you ever seen anything more beautiful?

May the light of the moon, shine on you.

Here I am, staring at YOU through the night air from my window. Pondering YOUR greatness while I should be studying the origins of architecture in religion. Bleh. I’d rather much study YOUR face, YOUR beauty. YOUR absolute creation which is the mind. My mind wanders into the night sky – contemplating it all, not wanting to focus on a small portion. I can’t find you, because YOU don’t exist. I don’t know who YOU are and I wish I could understand why I feel YOUR absence so deeply. I miss YOU so much that it hurts.

I’m not always sure of who I am until I do something like this, and then suddenly it’s all crystal clear that my name is Teresa, and I AM SITA

May you experience yourself as you truly are, and may you never forget you.

Being Happy

I wear yellow or buy a flower when I need the child in me to feel happy. I wear a dress when I want to feel like I’m free in the wind. I wear high heels as often as I can because it makes me feel like a pretty adult. I drink tea in a tea cup because it makes me feel like a lady. I wear makeup because I want to feel sexy. I wear a lace bra with ribbons because even though I can’t stand my naked body I love myself in underwear. I smile all the time because it makes me feel beautiful.

You can’t stop me from doing the things that I do, because without them I am not me. You might not like them, and that’s the same as not agreeing with my opinion but if you can’t handle it you can’t handle me and then you might as well leave me be.

I love it when people react to me, either because I said something stupid and it was funny or because I look nice or because I smiled at them. On the surface I don’t mind what your motives are for reacting to me. If I let you in, be careful not to be too serious – I’m very unsure when it becomes a serious question. In general, as long as I’m smiling (and sadly sometimes even after I stop) I will care about you. It’s such a cliché to say: “If you’re happy I’m happy,” and I don’t actually believe that it’s possible. Your happiness cannot be as dependant on others as you make it seem. You need to be able to be happy on your own – then you will truly understand what happiness is.

Everyone finds it in their own way and everyone celebrates it independently. I might love getting dirty in the mud and rain and acting like a child but you might prefer a huge chocolate and wine. It doesn’t matter. I don’t know your methods and I don’t intend to even find out what they are because it has nothing to do with me. Being happy is one of the most intimate experiences you can have with yourself.


Here, let me show you what I do to be happy...

It wasn’t a subtle hint at all...

Yes there is no better feeling than crying and letting it all out. It’s true that Love and finally getting to pee after holding it in for a while are great feelings, but seriously – If you cry because you’re just that happy you know it’s true… Maybe that’s why people cry at their wedding or when people die. It’s the reason a child cries when they get hurt, why teenagers cry in a romantic movie (boys don’t admit it but they feel it too sometimes). It’s why an adult cries when they are alone or when they realise someone did notice what was important to them. It’s that moment of realisation that what you are feeling is immense and without a doubt exactly what you are feeling.

Imagine we didn’t have bad moments, do you think we wouldn’t need to cry ever again? Wrong.

I can’t express the amount of good it does you to cry. I have no proof and no other stories to back up my theory except my very own experiences. The way I know it, is that when you’ve cried your face feels tight and your eyes feel so much bigger than normal. The next day, depending on how much you’ve cried, your eyes will be whiter. I cry often and not in a depressed kind of way and I can guarantee it’s why my eyes are as white as they are today. Maybe if I explain it this way it will make more sense. In the same way that a filter collects pieces of dirt passing through water, when we cry we are filtering all our emotions and feelings and sorting them into their respective appropriate places.

On a completely different note:

I seldom take the time to do something that is important to me and actually finish it. But recently I met someone who without even knowing it made me feel very inspired to try again – and I did. I did a few things that helped me feel better, but it didn’t go too far, somehow the inspiration wasn’t enough. Then a mere few days ago I met someone (old)* again, but this time it wasn’t a subtle hint at inspiration. No, this time it came silently but quickly into my mind without ever informing my heart, and started doing things that I’d always wanted to do. Now my heart is caught up in it too and I hope I won’t let go of it soon. This feeling I have, objectively and subjectively, makes me feel like me again. This is who I am and who I want to be and I want to start here. This is no longer a dream but a reality and from this moment I will focus on all of it simultaneously because that is just how it works in my mind.

If you are ready for it, then you could take this intriguing journey with me and I promise the things you will find will be the most intimate version of me available. For in the way that I write and put my thoughts into something I care about is the most “me” I can be.

This is me

I am who I am.

My name is Teresa Zywotkiewicz.

I am Sita