The dance to my song.

​I said,I crush on one who crushes on Adele. 

He then put up a post,” I crush on Adele. ”

I giggled and thought to myself,  I wish i was her, 

I wished out loud, then he said, “I have found one who is Adele.” 

And something magical happened,  in a place where nothing ever happened, 

I become one with Adele, I sang but the tune was too high, so it broke my voice , 

I crushed the cords and the music was no more sweet,the heels were too high, it disappointed.

He saw no more Adele, my voice repelled him and my songs he hated, no more applause, I pushed him rolling in the deep end, it was no more someone like me.

Then i realized, I couldn’t catch up, So i stopped, did it crush me? In tears i read, I become inspirational, until the day a passage talked to me, it said ” if they care,they will stay, you’ll not beg or change you for them to.” So i took the desperation,the begging,the pity party,the mirror me that I had adopted to please him, smeared all that with paint and made a new statue, one that i named me.

The heels fit and felt comfortable, the music, my music felt so sweet, the glamour and applause felt right, I took to the mirror and the smile was infectious, I didn’t know of a laughter so magical, my world, my paradise. I pleased me, and adored me, i become me, i crushed on me. 

So i wrote, i crush on me, 

He put up a post, ” I crush on Mary.” 

I sneered and thought to myself, ain’t it too late, I sympathize with you, just like Adele, you will crush, but it will be just that, crush.” 

I had  thought out loud. The tables had just turned.
In all you do, sing your song, how wrong it may feel, how irritating it may sound, how scary it may feel, how bad your voice may be, sing your song. If they don’t love it, love it, once you love it, they’ll love it, if they don’t,  it ain’t your fault that they are deaf?

Love, 

Mary.

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The tale of the story teller.

I kept on wondering, why is it that i couldn’t write, not fiction, not real stories, nothing , i agree 2016 wasn’t really my year, it really did weigh down on me. It was a rough one. I can say, i understand why they say life does hit like a bitch. It took me a while to know why.

Feel me here, have you ever felt like you are drowning? That your hands were tied up, eyes closed and mouth  zipped? That you were being chocked up by your own mind? Thats how me not being able to write felt like, i just couldn’t  draw my inspiration, whatever i wrote felt lame and out of sense, until i realized, i was more than what i was made to feel.Thats right, it all started when i lost certain people in my life, first my grandma(may she rest in peace ) then someone else. Just out of college, no job, everyone else making it but you? I felt lost. So lost to a point that i wrote, “i am drowning, i need a life saver, am choking from what is supposed to save me, i give up, and hope the waters take me afloat.”

Being rejected, loving the wrong person, unrequited love call it, thats something we aren’t always ready for. It takes your will to do the things you love and before you know it, you miss out on alot of things. Yes, it killed me, what’s  worse than killing someone’s creativity, what’s  more worse than knowing your shadow is probably  better than you are, that you couldn’t get the one thing that most people can.  

Do you ever look back at some situations and wonder how they ever happened?  Situations that can make one aware of their flaws,that clouds your judgment, that opens doors for weakness,  what a broken heart can do. Dwell on a past that you really know it can never be, put something on hold for you are grieving, forgetting that life has to go on. That a heart got to feel what it got to feel, and some things we just can’t help but accept and move on.

So i realized i had to unclog that which was holding my mind captive and admit to myself that i was hurting, broken  and grieving and i had to let go, to accept that it did happen to me, that i wasn’t the first nor the last, that life just happens, once i did, i wrote

I wrote on my regrets for not writing, i wrote an apology for being me and for my heart not being captivating enough to capture a love that felt so wrong, i wrote an apology to me for being so caught up in a fairly tale land. I wrote a song, that i didn’t  want to let go, that i tried to fight hard, that i had to stay away though my heart was beating for him, that i was sorry he was hurting, trying to understand  if it was pride or just me that pushed him aside and that i hoped for a come back, of a healing process, of wishing for karma to take revenge  to moving on, to finding me. 

I wrote of a new found confidence, i wrote of new friends, laughter, tears, i wrote of a love song. I stayed on long nights to unwind of my tales on paper, i wrote of the things i couldn’t say, of a crush i had, of how afraid i was that that garden i was eying for had a owner. 

I wrote, my heart out and my mind was no more clouded, the tales of a story teller, and on and on she writes.