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Don’t look back.
Don’t think about what happened.
Just don’t think that any of this was your fault.
You did everything you could
to keep the light before everything forever went black.
You thought they were always going to love you.
You thought they were always going to be your friend.
Just think of this as a wake-up call,
or like an electrically-charged jolt to the heart.
You’ve burned your bridges to ashes.
The way you used to regularly travel great distances
over vast expanses can’t ever be remade.
You have given everything, and you always did,
and that debt was never going to be wholly repaid.

Just keep going. Just keep reading.
Just keep experiencing. Just keep writing;
don’t let this bring you down,
don’t let what happened make you feel sad,
or as if you are any less than what and who
you believe you are;
don’t let yourself be sucked inside yourself
like a black-hole ripping apart a beautiful star-
save yourself, run away if you have to,
get as far away from everything that is tormenting you,
discover something new, go somewhere you have never been,
imagine the clouds have gone and the sky is blue;
just imagine that all the pain you have just been feeling
was nothing more than a nightmare, or a bad dream;
you are stronger than you realize-
and if it helps, listen to your favourite song on repeat,
close your eyes, don’t think about the person that hurt you:
imprison them forever in the dark, cold, dungeon of your forgotten
and unimportant past life experiences you never want to revisit
and you want to forget, and throw away the key-
it serves no purpose to keep anything that reminds you of them-
they and you were never meant to be forever,
and in retrospect you already know this to be true
from the amount of time you tried to repair
and reconcile any differences you may have had,
but they always turned out to be seeds of a deeper,
toxic, growth, that if you let it grow near you
and around you forever it would eventually eat you alive.

Get out there.
Find and make new friends.
Don’t think or worry again about those who never cared.
Find and be with who you need, and who needs you;
and don’t feel sad at all;
and if you have to say anything to yourself,
just tell yourself that ‘unfortunately, in life,
things like this that are out of your hands,
just happen, and they need to happen, and it happens’.

I can’t tell you what just happened;
I can’t say with complete certainty
what everything all means;
I can’t make sense why things are the way they are,
because none of what occurred was in no way planned.
I can’t forget what was said, because it meant so much-
it still does;
I can’t be someone I am not-
no matter how hard I try, no matter what direction I try to go in,
I feel in limbo, stuck in quick sand, frozen in-between,
and no one can understand how hard it is for me to not think
about the fractured mirror of my memories
that can’t ever be reformed whole in the same way again-
because there are shards and pieces missing,
and the glass will now always be covered in cracks.

It’s raining outside today.
I am crying a monsoon of tears inside.
The weather is symbolic and an expression of how I am feeling-
cold, clouded, grey, uncertain, depressing;
I can’t help but question what people have said to me in the past
and rethink their sentiments,
and I wish I could restore so easily what I have lost
and what has been taken away, because I can’t take back and collect
all the tears that I have cried.

I just want the sun to come out and burn away the clouds
and make things how they were again;
I just want to know without any doubt that I am not going mad,
that I didn’t just imagine the world that I saw
and thought I knew;
I just don’t want to be told what I want to hear-
I want what I have always wanted:
a life to share with someone, inspiration, friends, family, love,
and a happy new year.

The future feels more uncertain now than it has ever been-
there is still hope, light, energy, holding on to me,
sustaining me, reminding me that not all that we lose is lost forever,
and right now that is what I need.

I wont walk away.
I wont forget.
I wont delete anyone from my life.
I wont retouch or alter the picture emblazoned in my head.
I wont stop hoping.
I wont stop believing.
I wont tear up anything and throw it in the bin.
I will come to understand what has happened one day, I am sure,
but until then I will remember everything,
and go back and figure out what has changed and why,
and perhaps what I could have and should have seen and done something about,
but the question is: where do I begin?

1/1/2014,
Starbucks, Coventry

My heart feels like lead.
I don’t even want to get out of bed.
My head is pounding. My mind is swimming.
I feel numb. I have forgotten the touch and the heat of the sun.

At work I am making mistakes, I can’t do anything right.
At home I am reminded of every thing and every one that I have lost,
but the worst thing is that I feel like I have lost the will to write.

The words and the conversations that I have had with people
over the last couple of days have been rattling around in my head
and driving me insane-
to me, love is not something you can pretend to be in,
you are either in love or you are not-
love is not a game.

I am not perfect, and I don’t claim to be and never have,
but what I am is someone caring, passionate, full of energy,
full of life, and the farther the distance between me and someone
I put every second of thought into bridging and connecting
with someone as much as I can.

I have been told that I simplify things too much,
that I sometimes focus and obsess on things and people too much,
and I have to agree with that, I know that about myself,
that is what makes me such a good writer, I like to think-
I like to think, I like to feel, I like to be lost in something
and someone, I like, I love, to be in love.

Anyone on the outside looking in on me and on my relationships
would think that I seek out chaos, that I like the rocky road
more than I do the flat, maintained, tarmac of a highway-
however they would be mistaken, because, believe me,
I want nothing more than to be with someone, to be happy,
and for them to be happy with me,
living the quiet, simple life of embracing and making the most
of every second together,
and never even to think or ever want to walk away.

I have walked away from things and people in the past,
and every time I have hated myself after for it.
I don’t want to walk away from anything ever,
or anyone that I care about and love-
but sometimes I feel like I have worn out my welcome
and I have said and done all I can,
but what is below my feet now resembles a worn-out piece of carpet.

I am hurting.
I am confused.
I am like a computer that needs rebooting.
I am like a battery that has lost its charge and is now used.

It will all be ok tomorrow- I keep telling myself.
It will all work itself out- a friend of mine once told me.
It will be a brand new day, a brand new year.
It will be a fresh start- at least I hope it will be.
It will be a time to change again,
it will be a time to change everything,
and even though it will be hard,
I am willing to see how far I can go-
as long as I remember what my sister told me yesterday:
to “don’t change (my) good heart”.

There is a man who lives in a house on the hill,
there is a man who looks over on the village of his birth,
who comes down from his home from time to time
to be among other people, to buy a news paper,
and sometimes just to pay a bill.
People say that the man is a mystery,
people say that the man is a ghost,
people say that he lives on his own
because he is suffering from a broken heart that never mended,
people say that he doesn’t have an address-
no house name, no house number, no street name-
so you can’t contact him by post.

The man on the hill doesn’t have a name,
at least not one that is widely known,
the man on the hill can’t remember the last time
someone actually called him by his birth name-
he never says a word to anyone anymore,
no one even realizes that he is there.
People stopped ringing him years ago-
one day he decided that he had no need to be in contact with anyone,
so he disconnected his phone.

The man on the hill can be seen in the flesh,
if you are ever in the centre of England,
if you are ever in a park in Coventry
and you see a man sitting alone on a bench reading a book-
if you take the time to approach the man, to introduce yourself,
and to tell him that you’ve heard all about him,
he might raise his head, he might smile back at you,
but in his eyes you will see a very sad look.

The man on the hill walks everywhere.
The man on the hill goes out in the morning
and comes home at night,
full of new thoughts, old memories-
always seen in the same clothes, with the same haircut,
as if he has nothing else to wear.

The man on the hill used to know everyone,
and everyone used to know him-
beyond the legend that surrounds him,
beyond the shadow that he carries along with him.
The man on the hill’s story is a long, tragic, and sad tale-
a journey that came to a grinding halt one summer afternoon, long ago,
but where the man on the hill came from,
and how ended up becoming the man on the hill,
is complicated to explain, and even he would find it hard
knowing where to begin.

There is a man who lives on a hill
who once made a difference;
there is a man who lives on a hill
who thought he had the entire universe figured out,
until something happened to him that changed him forever-
and now the universe, to him, just doesn’t make any sense.

There is a man who lives on a hill,
who is waiting for the right person to come back into his life;
there is a man who lives on a hill,
who wants to simply remember what it is like to be alive.
There is a man who lives in a house, by himself,
who if you knocked on his door he would shower you with goodwill;
there is a man who just wants to be remembered,
who wants to dies happy again-
that man is the man on the hill.

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