I always blamed him for breaking my heart and taking a part of my soul along. Maybe he did not take it at all. Maybe, just maybe he left a part of his soul with me. His habits, his ideas, his laughter, his jokes. So after he left, I can't get enough of his habits and ideas. His laughter has haunted me for ages now and I half smile at his lame jokes even now. I play his favourite songs, aiming to find him there hopelessly. I can feel him in those subtle moments because he's left behind a part of his soul I'm those very songs. Maybe the portion he left was what he did not need anymore.
Maybe when people leave, it's not that we become incomplete. It's just that we're carrying their pieces around, maybe that's why our hearts feel heavy. We're burdened by the extra baggage that they've left, the discarded portion of their soul. Unless we decide to throw it away, we won't feel lighter. When we throw them away eventually, we'll ultimately be whole again. #love#life#thoughts#diary
(Fill them till they are empty.) -------------------------------------------------------- You enter in their home when they are the most comfortable by themselves, when they never felt the need to let some one in, you make them believe there's something missing, they are not whole, they lack love in their life, their home is not a home without the other person, you go inside from the front door when in real, they never wanted to welcome you. . Then, they'll believe you, they'll suddenly give their all to you, their everything, their favourite jewels from heart to soul, they'll break all the walls, doors and windows to let you in completely in a hope that you'll be there to provide shelter, they'll start living with you, you'll become their favourite habit, they'll get addicted to you, they'll believe and trust you for completing their home, they'll finally love you with all their heart after losing all of them, they'll give their all to you, they'll love you insanely.
But then, you'll realise their love is too much, they are too much, they are too soft and delicate to be loved, you'll say- you never want to hurt them but despite this all you'll hurt them to the core, you'll never give them the love they deserve, you'll leave them in pieces, first from the ventilation, from the spaces in between the doors, from the windows, and finally you'll leave not from the one you came but from the door in the back of their home and, and they'll always let you in because they don't know how to let someone out, they can keep only some people inside, so they locked their door in the beginning as soon as you entered their home, to prevent themselves from other people and they are locked since then till now, they don't open for anyone else but for you, always.
They don't share much with people, so they start keeping everything to themselves, this is how their home turns into a baggage so heavy, they hate letting someone in but they badly need someone to come in to reconstruct their torn and worn home but they will not be able to. They'll turn into a helpless being.
You'll break their home in pieces and pieces they'll still try to 'Not-call it broken' they'll try their best to feel complete and full, they'll never blame anyone for their broken home and heart and this is how they'll just hurt themselves. You'll teach them many lessons from self-love to self control but they never wanted to learn those lessons. You'll tell them, you'll warn them in the beginning but you'll forget, you'll forget to tell them about self-love before breaking their home, about fixing it all, about how to bear the loss, about how to make it look normal, about how to feel FULL again.
This is how you'll break a introvert's home and this way, you don't only break their home but their faith, trust, belief in LOVE, in letting someone else in, because they now have this somewhere in their heart that people only enter your home just to steal You from yourself, they only enter to shatter your HOME, that people can't heal you, people can't make you, people can't love you the way you need to be loved, But they'll teach you the most important lesson that is to love yourself, It's just you and you who can love yourself totally, who needs to be taken care of. It's just you, who should be given proper attention who should be loved and loved and it's just you who can love yourself the way you deserve to be loved.
//There comes some people in our life who only teaches us to love ourselves more and more.// _____________________________________________
The following piece is lovingly dedicated to my youngest son, who is currently living in an unpredictable daily hell, as we await proper diagnosis and treatment for what ails his mind. Consequently, my loving husband and I are right there in that hell with our son, because that's what it is to be a parent.
You are far stronger than you know son. I just really wish you didn't have to be. ♥️
UNQUIET MIND by Carolyn Glackin Chaos and panic Decidedly manic Sanity ran out the door
Mind's on a bender I hereby surrender I really can't take any more
Distorted delusions Unwanted intrusions Taking up space in my head
And a menacing voice That leaves me no choice Than to think I'd be better off dead
Wild ideations With unknown causations Leave me in doubt of what's real
And I say that I'm fine But it's merely a line 'Cause I no longer know how I feel
Though it's dark and it's deep There's no solace in sleep Now that demons await me at night
Nowadays all my dreams Start with blood curdling screams From the moment I turn out the light
My own eyes now deceive me Though I doubt you'd believe me If I try to explain what I mean
And the scars on my arm Bear the truth of self-harm Done to cope with the horrors I've seen
I'm wired and unfocused As I head toward psychosis Reality warped and obscured
As I hide in my room Filled with terror and doom Due to the voices I heard
Some call me crazy While the rest say I'm lazy But I'm asking you please to be kind
Before you misjudge me Berate or begrudge me Come spend one day in my mind. Copyright Carolyn Glackin 11/17/2019
*Title credits go to Kay Redfield Jameson for her novel "The Unquiet Mind," which I read many years ago. All other words (aside from the title) are solely my own.
*The chosen artwork is called "The Scream," by Edvard Munch (circa 1893).