Respect me, will you_ In the rain on a day when my smile fade away

I said NO.
Surprinsingly enough this is not about male/female gross behaviour but about people who do not respect my decissions nor the reasons behind it.
As a result, I forcefully comply, they are happy and I feel terrible and fundamentaly embarrased. The result is only consequence of they not taking my no when there was a solution.

Floure

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You have to say it

She crosses the room, her goal the closed door, the exit from this pitch of  hell. Anger all over her face, pain on her tensed soulders, tears just in the back of her eyes, ready, all too ready, to spill and soak her constricted face. She is about to reach the door knob and god knows slamming the freaking door in his much beloved yet absolutely unwelcome face when he takes her hand. A finger of his caresses her cold skin. Taking a firm grip, to never let her go, forces her to turn around, to face him. He looks at her directly in her eyes and it pains him the pain he has put her in. A look in her face he wishes never to see again dates him to say anything, anything else that is. But he doesnt, and wishes that she can feel his remorse on his watery eyes and if possible, maybe, if he is really, really lucky, she doesnt turn back around and leave him. He wishes that she stops seing his body and flesh and see what really is in front of her, his naked, pleading soul. – You have to say it. Silence. – You have to say it, you have to. I can’t always assume, you have to say it. – I am sorry. I am sorry that you are upset with me and I am sorry for doing that to you, for pushing you away. Life is a mess right now, I am a mess and I pour it all down on you, and I break us apart and I am sorry, I really am. It will never ever happen again, of that you can be sure. For the first time, grabing his warm hand she reciprocates the union. She doesnt smile or say anything, she is not done and it will take time for her to forget. But for now, she can take his hand, lead him back in and listen to him explain. Floure

Better than silence – In the rain on a day when it poured down on me

Pluuff!!
Loud the chair hit the floor. And so did I. My legs were unnaturaly facing north, chest up and down as it struggled to breath in the sock, pain and embarrasment. This was one of those things were if it is going to happen, is going to be in a crowded place, like now, and as noticeably as possible, like now.
I stayed there waiting for a helping hand, a soul crashing reaction or for me to be effectively swallowed, along with my chair of course, by the artificial ground. But none of it happened. Just silence. Many stares and silence.

Yay, I’m back!!! I just finished an exam and it wasn’t good may sweet lord Wordsworth forgive me for incorrectly analysing his poem and so I needed to cheer up.
I woke up this morning to a weirdly quiet house and thought about how awful it is when you fall or do something embarrasing in front of everyone (like showing up naked 😍) and wondered if there is anything more painful than the laughs that follow. Silence. I think silence is worst than any word. When someone ignores you, when you cry and there are no worths of comfort, when something happens and you get no explanations, when you say i love you and you don’t get an i live you too, when you are trying to reach that person but you cannot anymore. Gosh, let me laugh noisily, soundly, dramatically, extravagantly, embarrasingly, obnoxiously. Let me laugh and kill silence.

Floure

Two armies

Non-discriminatory pity for all those involved in fighting.
I stumbled across this quote (all due credit to my professor) revising for my exam on Wednesday yep two days to go and I still find gems like that one in my notes of Stephen Spender’s poem Two Armies.
It is a wonderful quote, innit? Is meaningful, strong and concise, all that is needed to say in just the most elementary words yet still hits you like a convoy.
I am not going to dwell in the topic, but one recommendation I got from my revising:

image

if you don’t care about the sides but the human losses on a conflict and like some poetry, try this fella Stephen Spender.

Picture credit

Floure