Tag Archives: writing

Solitary

…should I join the humanity again which I willingly left a long time ago after I danced to their music and sang to their tune and found out that being ‘a copy’ of the majority is a TOO HIGH price to pay in order to belong?

Simon and Garfunkel say:

“I have my books

And my poetry to protect me

I am shielded in my armour

Hiding in my room, safe within my womb,

I touch no one and no one touches me.

I am a rock, I am an island

And a rock feels no pain,

And an island never cries.”

…I chose to be a recluse, a hermit; me and my four walls. I always follow my feelings. I do not think. I worry a lot but never think. Feelings guide me and they never disappoint. I always know what to do.

Lately, I’m afraid I am losing touch. I am becoming blind and confused. I CANNOT feel my way anymore. I’m just stumbling through the days; not really knowing what to do. I ‘m afraid I am losing my true north.

My SOLITARY WORLD had been full of vivid colours, powerful scents, complex feelings, dramatic sounds and it was amazingly three dimensional down to the tiniest of details!

NOT ANYMORE! Lately, it is grey, one dimensional and very flat and far away. As if I am not a part of it. Like watching a film; you are there but not part of what is happening. Like looking through an aquarium. A silent spectator. Hopeless and powerless.

Do I NEED somebody after all? Do I have to be part of the world I despise so much? Am I not the person I thought I am? Is personal freedom not really important as much as I thought it is?

Or I’m getting old and starting to get MELLOW? Realizing for the first time that my own mortality, the things I once valued are not really that important?

Should I creep slowly out of my cave and end my HIBERNATION? See the world again, but this time not alone?

SHOULD I let somebody into my secrets and into my LIFE? SHOULD I?

GOD! It’s scary!

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Random Thoughts

Getting to that point again where it doesn’t feel like the tiles on the floor are cold anymore and the boiling water is missing its bubbles and the boy looks right through you and doesn’t see your eyes. The silent screaming of a girl so unaware of the fact she will rise again and will not be left behind. The notations of quotations that cannot drown but try to swim to middle earth anyways.

Walking home alone is not as bad as being with none around you with no one surrounding you and when you go to say hello they fly back and warn you that they are dangerously in love with you and it’s better to stay right there.

Your career is chosen along with your haircut and the voice in the back of your head is saying something along the lines of today will be cloudy with a chance of depression. The sunny, sunny moon is up and he is so cold, he cannot talk, and when you whisper I miss you all he hears is his own voice the only thing that matters.

9:30 is going time and I don’t see it happening and the dress is waiting and so is my heart for the three words to see if they will ever return. Today be the last day for me to consume and seven will be empty but the results will tell a better story than the change rooms did.

The man with the name that does not please me will try to tease me but realizes I own this game and the time is stopping and my mineral water bottle is empty again. The food shall last a whole weeks’ time or I might have to run away for good and not look back at all that has failed me and not focus on the fact I am exactly what I hate and try to erase the past that prevails me and run, run, run!

(found among old documents)

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Glaring

…undeniable truth of our current climate, society, economy, social/familial morals and values, work ethics, priorities, preferences dreams, goals… the list is endless. We have gone so far that going back is impossible. This generation of sub-humans are lost and we are not even aware of it. We simply don’t care. We watch the fruits of our irresponsible acts and negligence detached pretending it doesn’t have a negative effect on the environment, wildlife, and humanity not to mention the entire planet. We are in denial. Our focus is on extremes. We lost regard of quality and everything that matters. Pleasures, materialism, insatiable desires and appetite for ownership and appropriation whatever the cost are the driving forces of today’s minds. The appeal of acquiring toys comes to lie not in their use anymore but in their status as possessions. Whatever makes us looks good to the eye of our peers must obtain to set us above the rest, to feel powerful, to be in control. And so we think. Even if we wake up and start doing what supposed to be done it’s already too late for us. But it’s not too late for the future generations. We can still right what we have done wrong, not anymore for our own sakes but for those who will come after us so they can teach their youngs the responsibility of taking care of what is truly important. Can we still do it? Of course we can!  Let’s start now.

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Carousel

That’s life, full of ups and downs twists and turns. But unlike carousel rides life has many obstacles and you never know what’s around the corner. The journey will never be the same even if you do it over and over again on the very same road with the same people. You can never go back to the past yet you can’t outrun it either. It will catch up with you sooner or later when you least expect it. Life is like that, going round and round but seldom merry. You know what they say… Good things never last. One thing you can say about life is_ it is never boring. There is always something happens to knocks you off your feet. Literally. And not always favorable. I don’t know if it’s a blessing or a curse or both, life’s little surprises. And I don’t know if it is a good idea to write a post when you just woke up and nothing in your stomach wanting to take a bath while listening to the irritating noise of high-pressure cleaner outside knowing you ought to be preparing dinner- a very late one ’cause you woke up too late- instead of playing with the computer keyboard pretending to write. I better get going before I do more damage to this muddled thoughts. Till next time…

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Grit

“Be daring, be different, be impractical, be anything that will assert integrity of purpose and imaginative vision against the play-it-safers, the creatures of the commonplace, the slaves of the ordinary.”

— Cecil Beaton from Berlin Parasites

It takes a lot of small things to create a big pile or a widespread. Take for example a beach, a bouquet, a festival, a mass protest, a chaos, a war. A fight doesn’t happen just like that. It often starts with/from accumulation of small things that become one big thing like dislike, irritation, too much or too little of something. Divorce doesn’t happen overnight unless of course, you are a celebrity, then everything is possible. Suicide, murder, cheating, quitting, being rich, obesity and global warming, those are also products of small loose particles which seem to be harmless at first glance but become a matter of importance when gathered together over a period of time. Stress (which on its own is also a substance of… fill in the blank) lack of sleep and proper nutrition, isolation, no motivation, stimulation, and inspiration can lead to… you can fill in the blank again. You can even type my name in it if you wish. You have my permission to do so. Getting sidetrack again. Anyway, I can go on and on naming examples of what I think grit is all about but I know people don’t care much about long articles. Especially Daily Prompt assignments so, I will leave it here and proceed on looking for something to fill my stomach so hopefully my brain will function normally and perhaps I can find a decent sleep tonight. Happy Tuesday everyone. 

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How Pile of Books Taught Me to Let Go

Spring has sprung, and my 2017 quest to live mindfully, with less clutter, has continued.

I was inspired by an article to try the popular KonMari Method of cleaning. The basic idea is to collect all items of a similar nature from around the home and place them in one pile.

Once gathered, it is much easier to decide what to recycle, give away, or keep. One should start with items with little attachment, like magazines. I easily gave them all away. Then, work toward others with more attachment, like for me, an English major, it is books. I wanted to keep them all forever, no matter how dusty they might be.

Picture this: a tall stack of books with different shapes and colors. How high is the stack in your mind?

Make it grow, so much so that the image from Shel Silverstein’s poem, “Sara Silvia Cynthia Stout,”comes to mind. From the smaller sized Life’s Little Instruction Book and Talking Dirty to the Queen of Clean, to the larger Book of Awakening, there they stood staring at me. It became immediately evident that these books offered a reflection of my life. The titles mirrored the many sides of me and my changes along the way.

Books like KonMari Method and The Minimalists held my hand when I resembled a potential mad woman: cleaning, scrubbing, and purging relentlessly for days. Those titles taught me about my tangled emotions caused by our overload of things.

I faced the fear of perceived judgment; thinking others would judge my ability to be a good wife or mother by how clean my home was. By sorting and clearing, I did the same to the thoughts in my head. As Norman Vincent Peale once said, “Change your thoughts, and you change your world.”

Less stuff in the house equals less stuff to pick off of the ground. I looked forward to more time focused on life’s joys.

Some of the books reminded me of when I acted like a pig in a pile of corn. What was happening in life that I couldn’t slow down and taste my food? When life threw too many lemons my way, I needed to be taught how to sit and sweetly sip lemonade instead. So, I read. Guidebooks like Eight Weeks to Optimum Health and collections of recipes came to the rescue by Alice Waters, Mark Bittman, Gwyneth Paltrow, and much more. I found better foods to crunch and reminded myself how nice meals are at a slower pace.

The lost athlete inside me was in that stack, too. I went from having fun playing sports every day to being injured and idle. Looking back, why did I smack so many tennis balls? Why did I walk at a pro’s pace? Why did I cycle for hours on end? Books like the Inner Game of Tennis: The Classic Guide to the Mental Side of Peak Performance and The Power of Now helped me center my thoughts when I needed focus. Now in my hands, I wondered if I could let those titles go. I wanted to gain all of that back after my knee surgery and rehabilitation.

I thought back to what I needed when I started participating in the 30-day hot yoga challenges over and over again. Meditations from the Mat and 40 Days to Personal Revolution walked me through my quest for self-care. They brought me closer to an inner knowledge and some peace. Those might be the titles to hang on to as my new knee may need a gentler approach.

Lastly, I saw in that stack books my sense of wonder and thirst for something greater. Awareness, How to Have a Mary Heart in a Martha World, The Urban Monk, Ethics in the Real World, The Book of Joy: Lasting Happiness in a Changing World, Love Wins, Tao of Pooh, Kids are Worth It, The Four Agreements, Living Beautifully, and multi-colored prayer books stood out from the crowd. They were among the cherished titles that I have highlighted, scribbled upon, and stained throughout their time in my hands. Each one graciously guided me as life ebbed and flowed.

How was I to know which books to keep and which to toss? The KonMari Method encourages the reader to hold each individual item collected in their hands and feel the response. Does the item bring joy or a memory of joy? If it truly brings joy, one may decide to keep it. However, if it brings up memories or other emotions, let it go. Memories are already with us: We don’t need the tangible reminder collecting dust.

I imagined all of those books in one backpack that I needed to carry for the rest of my life. Then, I laughed—I’m still a book nut with genuine joy in more than a few works. So, I imagined all of those books in a larger roller bag instead.

As I began the next phase, I did it. I, literally, let go. Goodbye to the melancholy. So long to the search for something more. I was happy in the present moment and did not need the crutches that got me here. I kept more than I had originally intended, but most of the stack is gone.

Hopefully, they will now help someone new.

Are there items weighing down your space, thoughts, or life?

Do they look at you as a reminder of what was?

Why are they still with you?

Do you still need them?

If you are ready to make changes, try the KonMari Method. I highly recommend it.

Seeing everything thing you own of one item in a single pile certainly made an impact on me.

~Author: Kate Fleming 

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Quil

Never I have seen so broad meaning of one word. Some of them are enough to make a seasoned girl like me blush to the roots of my hair. Okay, forget I have said that. Just Goggle it and see for yourself.

Oops… Made a mistake there. It supposed to be with two “L” not one. But then again maybe not. Damn that urban dictionary. I should have not look into it. Anyway, at least I’ve learned a thing or two today which is not bad because life is a never ending learning process. There is no such thing as too much information. Well- informed is better than intelligent ignorant. I think. I don’t even know what I’m saying. Too little sleep (again) and no food (yet) can make an old girl like me hallucinates. TGIF and have a very good weekend despite the forecast of rain and the temperature going down by more than five degrees. We are still in the 20s at least. Good for the plants to have the much-needed burst of rain showers. In fact, I can use them too. Off to eat now. Till next time.  

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Dash

My father used to say that if you are hurrying move slowly and with care. In that way, you can achieve more in a short period of time, avoid potential accidents and spare yourself from a lot of unnecessary stress. I believe this to be true. I experience it time after time. If I concentrate too much on getting there or do something on time, I ended up running around like a chicken with its head cut off.  Remember all those cooking programs where the candidates have to prepare three or four-course meal in a restricted amount of time? They fail when they lost focus. 

It reminds me of the time I was watching an episode of Expedition Robinson where two people tried to gather sea water using buckets with holes while standing on a narrow makeshift bridge consisted only of one bamboo pole. They had to lower the bucket, fill it with water and run to the other side of the bridge where a bigger container was waiting. Whoever fills the container first without falling down from the bridge will be the winner. The battle was between an athletic male and a skinny female model and everyone in the room thought the fight was over before it even begins. She was moving slowly, treading carefully, waiting for the bucket to be thoroughly filled before bringing it up while her opponent was dashing mad all over the place, running up and down barely waiting for his bucket to be full and because of this he often ended up with an empty bucket when he reached the other end of the pole which only fuelled his desire to hurry some more. In the end, it was the woman who won. Her rival fell off from the slippery bridge. His impatience rendered his triumph impossible and his mad attempts futile. 

I saw this happened countless of times with people in the same situation, they let themselves be consumed by the thought of limited time span and lost concentration often resulting in failure. Moral of the story: It’s okay to keep track of the time but whatever you are doing especially if it matters to the end result, do it carefully and steadily and you will see that you will achieve more…

Let me leave you with the wise words of Earl Monroe. He said: Just be patient. Let the game come to you. Don’t rush. Be quick, but don’t hurry. 

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Wheel

Wheel of time Wheel of fortune Wheel of life Wheel alignment… How many words contain wheel… Wheelbarrow Cartwheel Pinwheel Wheelchair… Thousands I guess. Most of them I never heard before or have seen use in a sentence. Life is a circle. A never ending circle. A wedding ring supposed to be symbolizing forever though the symbol of eternity and infinity as we all know isn’t always a ring. The shape of a sideways figure eight, the Ouroboros (or Uroboros) and the Endless Knot, are also symbols of infinity and eternity to name a few. The Armenian symbol of everlasting celestial life looks like a pinwheel and the Egyptians sign for it is the Ankh, or the “Crux Ansata” or ‘cross with a handle. Whatever we think is appropriate symbol of  eternal life and rebirth, it is still containing a circle in the middle. It got to be. Life never sit still. It turns and turns with time. And time is infinite. Our life is limited but time on its own is infinite… 

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ALL OF ME

Who is she, this rebellious, creative creature that refuses to play by the rules? 

She is the chameleon that catches your eye. She is each hue of the rainbow. She is every summer sun. Every dark depth. She has a too hot heat that scorches the heart and a deep rooted longing to take flight like so many birds.

With her soul stripped bare, stark, she will dare you to see her. To truly see her. She will challenge you to hold steady your gaze. To not look away. Even when ugly truths show themselves, dancing darkly, confident of their ability to stun you. To be shunned by you.

She will let you glimpse some of the darkness that she holds, the shadows that she knows.

And then, as you try to shine light on them, on her, she will turn away from you, wanting to keep her stronghold on the demons. Because they are a part of her too. And what unknown gaping void might be left without them?

She will push you away. And then bring you back, her conflicting behaviour causing her as much confusion as it does you. She will hover at the brink. At the place where freedom falls into a different kind of escape that promises no return. She won’t succumb to the chasm that calls softly, insistently to her, but she will be mesmerised by its allure of nothingness. Of its promise to stop the clashing thoughts and tangled feelings.

There are the times when she will want to give in to the vulnerability that encompasses her. She will want to be nurtured. Spoon fed. Looked after. She will want to climb on your lap, to curl up like a cat. She will want you to tell her that it will all be alright. That she doesn’t need to do anything more. That she won’t have to draw on her depleted reserves of energy that seem to elude her today.

She assumes the personas of all the warriors she has known and learnt of. She will not always know where she begins and where the fictional personalities end, for the lines are blurred and she has no true desire to clarify them. Rather she enjoys their comfort blanket cover, that she may be able to draw on them as she needs to.

She has the haughty pride of a peacock that struts knowing full well of the rich layered beauty that draws the eye. She wants to be admired. Adored. Adorned. And then, she wants to take off the trinkets that weigh her down for they feel gaudy and heavy after a time. 

Her turmoil is studied yet unexamined, only showing itself truthfully in the offerings that she is compelled to create. She won’t be able to tell you how her creativity is born or from where it came. She does not know herself. Only that it does come, and it must come, so that she may then know some modicum of peace. Of respite. Of purpose. Her art of choice is an extension of who she is. Of who she is yet to become.

There are the days when she will wake in the light but feel full of darkness. She won’t understand what happened in the hours of sleep that she should open her eyes feeling this way. The fog will cloud her brain and dull her brilliance. Everything will move slightly slower. More muted. A lethargy descending on her. She knows to wait it out.

There are the days she will find herself in scattered pieces. Like china, smashed on the kitchen floor. Bewildered and broken. Bloodied and cold. She will look into your eyes, searching for an answer that she knows she will not find. She will feel a disoriented sense of despair. A hopelessness of sorts.

Rage is not unfamiliar to her. Cries of anger let loose when fear threatens to take over. She will shout out, hearing a voice she knows to be hers, yet not recognising the stranger that she finds in the echoes that flood back to her.

She can’t always verbally articulate what she wants to convey, what she’d like to share. Rather she finds her voice in her craft. Adding an adjective here, a splash of paint there in place of the words that might otherwise stay silent. Solitude sits well with her, yet although she knows she yearns for this sacred time alone, too much of it leads to a distorted place where the world is twisted and misshapen. Once there, she races to return, taking gulps of air that will speed her back safely.

She will find segments of herself in the creations she makes. In her words, her drawings, her sculptures. She will smile then, as she has a feeling of unity. Of coming home. She will feel confident, connected, whole.

Turning to face you with eyes so bright. And then, in no time at all, she will yearn for the next creation, panicking that it might not come, that she won’t have any outlet for the chattering riot inside her mind. She will want reassurance. Understanding. Love. So much love.

She may be some or all of these things and much, much more. She will frustrate you. She will inspire and amaze you. She will infuriate you beyond a measure that you barely knew existed. She will be all kinds of temperamental. She cannot be any more or any less than she knows in that moment. She is complex and chaotic. She is poetic and proud. She is every kind of fire and ice and all the elements of earth and sky. She is the restless, rebellious female creative and this is what it means to love her.


I wish I wrote this piece because it describes me word for word but it was penned by Skylar Liberty Rose- freelance writer and fellow blogger who believes in creativity as a form of healing and is passionate about manifesting her dreams. Skylar is an advocate of stripping away layers of conditioning and instead discovering the unique truth within. She is inspired by souls with spirit and courageous hearts. She grew up in London and now lives in New York City with her husband. Skylar is a woman after my own heart.

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Commit

My father used to say: Once you commit yourself to something, you have to give it all, heart and soul or otherwise don’t do it at all. I abide to that rule since day one and still live by it. A source of ongoing conflict between me and D. He has an irritating ways of doing everything halfheartedly, especially those that don’t interest him and I can tell you nothing interests him much. Aside of course for the things that directly and personally concern him like technology and chocolates. No, I am not complaining. Just trying to make an example I can vouch for. Like yesterday, I asked him to kindly deadhead a rose bush- just one rose bush- by the fence in the front garden (gardening doesn’t interest him) because it has climbed higher than I can reach. This morning looking out I saw that the dead flowers are still hanging on the canes. When I asked him about it he said he removed the spent blooms that was hanging outside the fence and will do the rest in the near future. There was only one flower outside the fence, the rest are inside, and since he was busy with it anyway why not cut all the dead effing flowers?  

But that is D. He is fond of procrastinating, waltzing around, and only doing things you assigned him to do if he likes to do it. He is lost without manual and in most tasks you even have to hold his hand and guide him through it and if you are impatient like me, you will end up doing everything by yourself. I can’t take his words at face value because what he says and what he does are completely different things. I’m talking about simple things like locking the doors, windows, setting the alarm, putting the car inside switch off the cooker and so on. Little things that can have irreversible damage if something goes wrong and believe me it did already in the past. There were other big negligence caused disasters that costed us money which can be avoided if he only commit himself of not doing the same mistakes over and over again. “Next Time” is his favorite excuse. Always next time. But although if I’m lucky he will indeed not do the same exact mistake again, he will do it other way- same MO different concept. Mind blowing. 

He drives me crazy (and probably I do the same to him with my goal-oriented perfectionist ways of doing things) but we are married to each other. We made a commitment a long time ago to stay together for better or for worse. He is a sweet guy. You can’t argue with him because he doesn’t say a thing and just stands there. Fights cannot escalate when it’s only you doing the talking. His most endearing qualities are the ones that can also make me want to sign a divorce paper blindfolded, like being passive and childish, accommodating, nonchalant and diffident. Sometimes I really want to give up but I am stubborn. Once I commit myself into anything I see to it that I did already everything possible for the cause to work out before throwing in the towel. So when I close the door there will be no regrets and no self-reproach later on. That’s why probably it took me twenty years to walk out from my first marriage even though it was a living hell. My tenacity for holding on while others would have already jump off ship could also be my downfall.

I’ll take a shower now before I get carried away again. This evening I will be attending the premier of my favorite movie of all times: Transformers. See yah later…

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Paper

What would we do without it? Even in this time of ultra- modern technology paper is still indispensable, especially in the western society where people prefer to use it in the little room to clean what needs to be clean instead of just using the more hygienic alternative- water. Don’t get on your high horse so fast because I am not on mine either. I am just telling the simple fact and the simple truth. Don’t look for meaning behind it. I have my own stock of kitchen rolls in the garage too, something which is unthinkable where I came from. We air dry dishes and only have one dish cloth and one rag to clean every surface. Now, I have boxes and boxes of paper hankies for my chronic sinusitis and ongoing allergies. And I still prefer good old fashioned books than E-books and still holding on to little notebooks and post it notes to record my old school thoughts.

I used to have a collection of expensive multi-colored stationery which I hardly use. I bought them because I like the way they look, feel and smell. Reminds me of the beginning of the school year when I was young and my oldest sister shopped school supplies for me and my siblings. Those were the happiest times in my life. Going to school was so important to us the worst punishment my parents could inflict on us was to make us stay at home on school days to clean the house. Corporal punishment was preferable than missing a day of school. 

I don’t know if our modern technology has a positive effect on deforestation or it’s the other way around. I hope those stories about sustainable forests is not just a myth. I love paper and its various forms but not in the cost of the environment. As of now, we are experiencing a heat wave for two consecutive weeks now it is forbidden by our government to even water our own gardens and fill pools so our kids could swim. And it looks like it will continue towards the next week for the time being. Record shows that the number of days with highest temperature in history have increased double in the last couple of years. I wonder how long those unbelievers could deny the reality of global warming.

Here I am getting side tracked again. Do you think living without paper is possible in the near future? Or is it like asking if we could exist without the existence of plastic and God knows what other engineered products we think indispensable to our lifestyle and survival.

I’m off now to have a few seconds under the shower to cool off. I guess the government will not fine me for trying to still alive. They don’t keep track of what I’m doing anyway. Or they will arrest me for sitting here typing this article butt-naked (or it is buck-naked?) Anyway, I’m out of here and maybe see you later. (P.S. It’s too hot to edit. You know what I mean)

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Meddle

Why this word prompt reminds me of two things: One is the Echoes, a signature track from Pink Floyd’s Meddle album which probably a reminiscent of my former life with my ex. The song goes like this:

Overhead the albatross hangs motionless upon the air
And deep beneath the rolling waves in labyrinths of coral caves
The echo of a distant tide
Comes willowing across the sand
And everything is green and submarine

And no one showed us to the land
And no one knows the wheres or whys
But something stirs and something tries
And starts to climb towards the light

Strangers passing in the street
By chance two separate glances meet
And I am you and what I see is me
And do I take you by the hand
And lead you through the land
And help me understand the best I can
And no one calls us to move on
And no one forces down our eyes
No one speaks
And no one tries
No one flies around the sun

Cloudless every day you fall upon my waking eyes
Inviting and inciting me to rise
And through the window in the wall
Come streaming in on sunlight wings
A million bright ambassadors of morning

And no one sings me lullabies
And no one makes me close my eyes
So I throw the windows wide
And call to you across the sky.

It was written by Dave Gilmour, Nick Mason, Rick Wright. A group effort with lyrical contributions from each member.

Here is another song that reminds me of today’s prompt. It is appropriately titled Meddle.

I remember all the things she did before
I remember all the times she cried
I remember all the things you promised her
I know it hurt, I remember all the times you lied

Don’t meddle with her heart, meddle with her mind
Meddle with the things that are inside
You don’t know what you’ll find
You don’t know what she hides

So don’t go messing with her heart or messing with her mind
Or messing with the things that are inside
You don’t know what you’ll find
You don’t know what she hides

She still remembers like it’s yesterday
She still remembers you so well
She still remembers all the things you saw forever more
She still remembers but won’t tell

‘Cause she’s a mixed up girl in a mixed up world
And you know she don’t mean any harm
So please understand if you take her hand
You’ll get much more than you bargained for…

The last stanza kind of reminds me of myself 😀

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