It’s not really a blog post, but I’m happy right now. I really truly am. ♡♡♡
Sometimes Kit or Coco or Kitty,
Possibly Panda, Kitkat, Cookie and Iggy,
Infuriatingly Kiwi, once even surprisingly Annie,
Rarely Banana, Iguana, or even Piranha,
Because you see my name is Khiana,
But I’m never called that by the ones I love.
I’m almost 18, almost 5’5″, almost an A Level student,
Almost almost almost almost.
I have 7 siblings and 12 niblings,
Yes niblings, it’s a collective term for
Nieces and Nephews. Look it up.
I change the way I look because I’m bored of my face,
I cut off my hair because I got trich and
dyed it bright just to be different.
Not from others, from myself because I was stuck,
Always the same, always vanilla, predictable,
Despicable, could never escape the person I was,
Boring goody two shoes who opened her mouth too much.
Stubborn but a coward, a rambling shambling mess of a person,
Not a lady, too clumsy,
Not reckless, too mumsy,
Never smoked, nor drank, nor partied.
Worried for the ones who did, what their parents would think,
But it didn’t really matter because
That was what teens are supposed to do.
I worry that I’ll leave it too late,
Get over my fears after the party has long gone,
And I’ll be the one everyone frowns upon.
The wasted waste of breath
Holding a bottle with nothing left,
Chasing down roads that lead to
Mourning the ghost of what I could have been,
The people I could have met and the places I could have seen.
I wrote this a while ago…. wow. I was in an odd place to say the least.
When a baby falls asleep in your arms.
When the breeze lifts leaves from the trees.
When lazy hugs and warm mugs fill your life.
When scenery rushes past your window on the bus.
When a song matches your mood.
When you dance like a little kid.
When the sky looks like a tropical cocktail.
When a twig snaps underfoot.
When you get a stitch from laughing so hard.
When someone says something heartfelt and you feel your heart speed up.
When you’re wearing fluffy socks.
When you feel yourself drifting off to sleep.
When you’re cuddled around a bonfire.
When you’re surrounded by people you love.
When someone shows you something that reminded them of you.
When you’re singing at the top of your voice.
When someone tucks your hair behind your ear.
When you drive through a lit tunnel at night.
When you eat your favourite meal.
When you hold someone tight for a long time.
When you have whispered conversations at 2am.
When you videochat until you fall asleep.
When you can quote a show word for word but it’s still just as good.
When you run around in the rain.
When you hear a little kid say your name for the first time.
When your friends’ families accept you as their own.
When you find someone that fits you instantly.
When you look at someone you love and smile.
When someone gives you an extra blanket to make sure you’re warm.
When you see a random act of kindness.
When someone shows you something they’re passionate about and their eyes light up.
When you’re so close you can see the details in their eyes.
When you hear their voice as you read their words.
When you’re singing and someone joins in.
When you’re kissed on the temple or forehead.
When someone says something that makes you smile for the rest of the day.
When someone falls asleep on your shoulder.
When you look back on all of these moments.
Well here’s something I didn’t think I would be writing at 2am on a Monday morning. Shows what plays on my mind when I can’t sleep, huh?
Long time, no see, WordPress. You’ve given me so much more trouble than you’re worth, if I’m honest. I find it hard to post to you anymore, because I know who reads my blog and I know what they think of me. Still, I’m a stubborn bitch, and I refuse to delete years of my life again. It just means I have about 40-50 drafts that need uploading because I was too scared of what people think.
This isn’t the first time this blog has given me issues either. I wrote a post for an estranged family member a long long time ago, for his birthday. I didn’t use his name, because you read about weird “twists of fate” online and even though rationally I knew it would never happen, I didn’t want to risk him seeing it. That was a big mistake. See, this post was really vague, for the reason I mentioned above. I mentioned loving this person despite the fact they didn’t know I existed, how much I wanted to be at the moment where I could hug them and get to know them, and then I wished them happy birthday. The thing is, a (male) friend of mine shares that birthday, and his girlfriend at the time assumed it was about him. Yeah, that didn’t go down nicely. I understood why she would think so, but I explained the situation to her, and she said we were fine. We were not fine. What originally was just a simple misunderstanding became paranoia, jealousy, and a whole load of anxiety. I used to post about it a lot, in little chunks, hoping that she’d read all of my little disclaimers and finally believe me. You can probably find them if you can be bothered to wade through the pit that is my blog.
Anyway,since then, I stopped using my life as inspiration for blog posts. Here and there you may find something, like my post on living with someone with PDA syndrome, or one about an old friend of mine cutting me out of his life (a.k.a an unnecessarily bitchy post written by a hurting teenage girl in an attempt to feel better). But for the most part, my posts -and poems especially- are written with the use of personas. For anyone unfamiliar with the term, a persona is basically a character or situation that isn’t your own, but you write it as if it was. For example when a book is in first person, the use of a persona (the protagonist) allows the author to write and think as feel as though they were the character without actually experiencing their hardships. But I digress.
I don’t write from experience very often anymore. I write from prompts sent to me by internet friends and random readers and tumblr followers. I write from fairy tales and myths and lore (pretty much anything to do with the ocean or sunshine has come from this really great book about sirens I read as a kid, I’ll have to dig it up and share the name). I write from random little ideas that pop into my head to see how fluent it would be to write a book about; 9 times out of 10 it’s nothing ever comes of it.
So here is my final disclaimer before I hopefully swing back to normal on my blog.
Most of my blog posts are not about actual people or events, and if they are, they probably aren’t about people you know. My life has changed a lot in a year. I’m not the same person I was back at secondary. I have a completely different set of friends, and while I miss my old ones, I get that people change and drift apart. I’m not as bitter about old events anymore. Old grudges I had before I came to college are gone, because honestly, life is too short to carry hormone-fuelled arguments around with you all the time. Humans are messy and unpredictable and we all have feelings and we all screw up. I was going through a lot back then. I had family drama that I’m not going to go into, and I was mourning a friend that sadly passed away. I was in pain and struggling and I blamed my friends for leaving me. They didn’t, for the most part. I pushed them away, and I was too deep in my despair to see it was happening. It was a mistake I made, and I regret it but I can’t change it. I didn’t tell them what was going on inside my head but I expected them to understand what I was going through, and that was unfair. I know a couple of them read my blog from time to time, and I’m sorry for everything I did back then. I obviously was looking at my life subjectively and didn’t understand what was going on, but I’ve taken a step back since then and seen things how they really were. I’m sorry for all the times I expected you to be there for me despite me not being there for you, and I’m sorry for all the times I thought being a good friend meant giving one person my undivided attention. I was in the wrong, and while I know I can’t change the things I said or did, I hope we can move past then one day. I needed some time by myself to get myself together, and I really am sorry that I couldn’t explain that, because at the time I didn’t understand it myself. I must have made it seem like I wanted to get away fron you, when in reality I needed to get away from the person I was, and I guess I couldn’t do that with you guys around to remind me of all of the shitty things I went through. That wasn’t your fault, but I was in such a horrible messy state that I pushed you away anyway. You couldn’t have helped me even if you tried when I was like that, I’m sure you noticed I wasn’t exactly a well functioning human being. Like I said, I was changing. Off came the hair, more and more for each bad event I faced, each time a different colour when I wanted to escape the person I was at the time. I found that if you change the way you look, and you don’t recognise yourself in the mirror, it’s easier to make a change in your personality. It’s like playing a character until they become you. Of course, you can never escape your own life, and I wasn’t trying to pretend it wasn’t happening. But it’s easier to accept what’s going on if it feels like it isn’t happening to you. I don’t know, I can’t explain it very well. All I know is, I’m a different person, and I wanted to apologise for the people I hurt while I was focusing on myself. They say you need to crack a few eggs to make an omelette but there’s no need to smash the entire box.
Wow, that post was just meant to be a disclaimer to end rumours. I guess that’s what late night posting does to you. I really do hope that this clears stuff up and you can forgive me- but if not, I understand, and I hope you’re doing well.
D’you ever just accumulate a bunch of internet identities for different purposes and realise you have hoarded a bunch of URL crap? I just realised I have 7 wordpress blogs.
…I need to do some serious tidying up.
Hey guys, it’s been a while since I just rambled to you, as opposed to poems and friendship issues and family junk soooo… here we go!
Today I got a notification on WordPress telling me that I have had this blog for exactly two years now…weird. It feels like I’ve simultaneously had it longer and shorter than that. I have been blogging for a really long time now, which I suppose it feels like I’ve been using this blog longer than I have. (I was cyber-bullied on my old blog, and in a moment of madness I deleted 2 1/2 years of my life from the internet). However, it got me thinking about anniversaries; why on earth do we have them?
See, because there’s this debate as to whether time is a man-made construct or not. On one hand, events will occur whether you want them to or not and there’s no going back- humans can’t possibly hope to control that. But on the other hand, the measurement of time is a fairly human construct. Yes, the measurements come from the position of the earth etc., etc., but why break them down into months or weeks? Humans have an extra day every four years because it is more convenient for us than the extra quarter of a day every year. We put the clocks back/forward to optimise working hours. We start school in September as opposed to January because children used to help the harvest in the summer months. But anyway- anniversaries.
Why do we put certain moments on pedestals? Why do we remember certain milestones? Who chooses what becomes a milestone? For instance, I had my first kiss a year ago today; why can I remember the exact date of something so insignificant? Tomorrow is the anniversary of my first baby tooth falling out. I was seven at the time, how can I still remember it? The day after that is the birthday of someone I shared classes with why I was eleven; I don’t even remember their surname now.
What part of our brain retains these facts, as though we will need them?
It’s the same with people. We remember pointless facts in order to understand the person, yet we keep them even when the person is no longer in our lives. Their favourite colour is blue, or purple or green; they get carsick unless they sit by the window, they’re allergic to the adhesive on plasters (albeit that’s fairly useful to know). Why do we suddenly forget the answer to a question the moment someone needs us to remember? Why can feel something when it’s ‘on the tip of our tongue’?
Did you know that your brain never forgets a face? (Unless you have aphantasia) It stores them and relays them in your sleep. When you dream, you have seen the faces that feature at least once in your life, maybe three or four times. I don’t even want to think about where we source the images of our nightmares.
It gives me a headache.
As a wanderer,
It is hard, I must admit,
Not to drift away
Over the horizon and beyond.
But then you happened to
Gaze upon me with those seaglass gems
And I stopped,
Dropped the anchor.
I felt your warmth,
Radiating from within,
As though you were sucking in
The sharp frosty air,
Absorbing and depleting.
Rays of gold sunshine
Hung about your face as
Though they would look
Out of place anywhere else.
There were many legends of you,
Myths depicting an unstoppable love,
A friendly siren,
If you will,
And again, I must admit,
Submit to honestly,
It was the myths that made me stop.
Though a wanderer I am,
I long for a place to stay,
And yet the only sources I could find
Would run down so rapidly
Almost synchronised with the
Sound of the anchor dropping.
I found this in my old poetry book but the page was ripped!
So it shall remain forever unfinished. Ah well.
Something you may not know if you don’t use WordPress all that often is that you get a statistics page that allows you to view who your primary audience is. This is useful, particularly when attempting to target certain demographics; writing about events that happen in a certain country, perhaps, or typing up a memory that correlates with said people. More intriguing, however, is that it allows you to see when you get your views.
For instance, while most of my audience comes alive at night (Thanks you for your lovely messages, I promise I will email you back when I get a chance!), I do get a cluster of views from England at a certain time of day during the week.
Noticing a pattern, I asked a family friend (Hey Tony!) what he thought, as he works with computers. With some help, we manages to pinpoint my newfound audience to Hampshire, then my local town, then my college. This is the first time in a while that I’ve logged into WordPress from college, and I can’t rack up more than a hit for my own blog (even then, it only counts if I’m not logged in and I’m not that desperate for views). Ergo, these views are not coming from me. Soooooo, I did a bit of snooping around, and with the help of some accidental likes (Even if you unlike it again, I still get the email dumbasses) I now know who likes to read my blog during lunchtimes at college.
I just thought that was interesting.
If I die,
-No, hear me out-
If I die before my time,
Of unnatural causes,
If I die before my life is done,
Before I look back and am content,
Before my weary bones lay down to rest,
And my lungs release their final breath…
Don’t look at the things I finished,
Don’t read the sentences that end in full stops,
Don’t remember the outings that drew to a close,
Don’t look at the paintings that hang upon the wall,
Don’t look at my grades, nor my passes, nor my fails,
Don’t look at the clothes I grew out of,
Don’t look at the toys I no longer use,
Don’t remember the pen that ran empty,
Don’t remember the shoes that became too tight,
Don’t regard the friends I no longer speak to, nor the distant family members, nor any resolved fights,
Remember the plans I never got to make,
Remember the words I left unsaid,
Remember the people I had yet to meet,
Remember the milestones I had yet to pass,
Remember the birthdays I never had, and the parties left unplanned and the presents left unwrapped,
Remember the drawings I never drew,
Remember the stories I never told,
Remember the unresolved arguments,
Remember the songs I never got to hear,
Remember the steps I never took, the lands I never saw, the memories I never made,
Just please, I implore you,
If I die before my time,
Before I look back and am content;
Pay no heed to anything I may have accomplished, concluded, completed, because
I was worried at first,
That I wouldn’t know,
What to do, or say, or act,
Without a clearcut definition to
But I know the rules now.
Don’t speak unless spoken to.
Don’t show any sign I know you when
Others are around.
Don’t make a sound. Don’t cry aloud.
Don’t think. Don’t talk. Don’t feel.
Under No Circumstances get attached, or trust, or love.
I am not always happy, yet I stay.
You confuse me.
Censored but desensitised.
Bound by your smiles,
Gagged by your compliments,
I willingly suffer the sweetest pain I’ve ever felt.
I put my foot into the bear trap,
I hold my heart out to the thief,
I hand the knife to the murderer.
I remain by your side like a pet,
Doing tricks for treats and
Begging for scraps under the table.
You’re like that kid from the nursery rhyme,
The one with the curl.
When you’re good, you’re very very good,
But when you’re bad, you’re
Although it hurts to say,
Cripples me to admit,
The good is what makes you so horrid.
I lived for you.
I craved your attention.
I survived on your affection.
Every God damn time,
I think you heal me when
You trace my fingers or kiss my forehead or hold me tight.
But then you reopen the wounds when you
Brush me off, or shut me out, or shoot me down.
Soon there will be no more blood to give.
Soon I will have no more love to give.
Soon I will be nothing but scars.