All about mE, Em.
You’re
Good enough
All of you,
Every part,
Whether you feel
Good,
Bad,
Up,
Or down,
Unable to move,
Or bouncing with energy
All of you
Is beautiful,
Because
You are
You don’t need anything,
Or anybody
You are perfect
Just
As
You
Are,
Right now,
And forever.
Be
At peace.
I don’t know if that’s what I am, but
I manage to get along as best that I
Can, muddling through each and
Every day, feeling lost, and alone,
With so much to do, feel, share, and
say.
But I’m quiet.
I know many would laugh
At that preposterous thought,
Because quiet,
Is something
They’re sure
That I’m not.
But that just goes to show,
What the clowns already know;
That – if you put enough garish paint,
On the side of the face where the pain ain’t,
Nobody notices
How you ache inside.
Tears pushing through sorrow,
Choking back the sun, with this
Empty ache echoing forever
Inside
Each
And every one.
I’m tired,
It goes without saying, too,
As I don’t want to be a burden,
I guess I’ll just carry on
Seeing
This through.
I may not always be alone,
But, yes, I am lonely,
For this space I rest my weary head
Is for me
And for me
Only.
That’s not so much a choice,
As a curse three times nailed,
The postman has come and gone,
My effort’s been mailed.
And I’ll keep on trying,
Keep pushing on through,
Because the alternative
Is not an option,
So trying
Is just what I’ll do.
I’ll try to find happiness,
Try to find one other,
Someone to spend time with,
A soulmate…
And there I freeze,
Because I – aside from the breeze,
Blowing softly across my knees,
As I listen to the traffic outside,
Going by, as normal as you please –
Am no longer one with this world,
If I ever was.
The tinnitus in my ears, and others’ eyes
Running for the hills as I try to read lips,
To discover goods from ills, is simply an
Aural manifestation of what I have known all along –
I am outside of it all; boat and swing
Missed, fog-man distracted by internal thought,
Left swinging in the emptiness, swimming inside,
Sitting lonely on his couch,
Having forgotten to have cried.
Is stubborn, forcing us
To see, the precipice
We nearly miss, just to
Remind you and me,
That we’re never really
In control, not of this life,
Or even our very own choices,
And the illusion of control,
Is no more meaningful than
Making success the goal, as
We spin on our heals, faces
Glued to our various devices.
Having completed Tinder, OkCupid, Match and Bumble, I can honestly say I prefer GTA4.
The rules of the game are simple; “swipe until it’s empty”.
I have done that at “Boss” level. It’s not difficult. Just takes loads of time. Time I clearly had.
I have a whole method for efficient swiping… It’s tap tap tap… Swipe.
Any sedated tigers, chihuahuas, pouting, or loads of gym photos, or a guy’s name on seemingly a woman’s photos, or all serious photos with no smiles, swipe left.
The slightest possibility I might be attracted to them and they seem normal and their smile actually reaches their eyes, swipe right.
Works just as well as randomly swiping left and right with my eyes closed (I have tried it).
And you have to have lots of uncomfortable chats where you try way too hard to be charming and funny – think pickup lines without the alcohol and background noise to distract from the utter awkwardness of it, a few slightly awkward dates (now video calls, which is the “advanced” level difficulty), and end up realising you can’t work out the most basic reason people are attracted to one another – that magical unknown quantity of “chemistry” – without actually meeting the person in person.
It is at that point that you “complete” the dating app.
And, just because we are creatures of habit, we then go try other dating apps, because maybe, just maybe, doing the same thing and expecting a different outcome is not the definition of insanity.
Once we have completed all available dating apps, and come to that same realisation time and again, with friends and strangers egging us on the whole time by dangling that “I have friends who met online and got married and are really happy” magical power up in front of us, do we officially “complete all levels” in the online dating game.
There is no winning. It is realising that we are simply confirming the uselessness of it all that means we have “leveled up”.
That is why it is called “gamifying”, or the “gamification” of, dating.
It’s a game, and the only ones to win are the companies that make money from us endlessly swiping.
So we get frustrated and delete the apps, only to return a few months later in desperation, hoping against hope that, somehow, this time it will be different.
For proof of this, just see how many profiles say, “I had deleted this app but I am back now hoping to delete it again…”
I think we need a “Dating Apps Anonymous” group.
This is no
Mid-life crisis,
No crisis at all.
Instead, I feel
Empty
And calm,
No longer rolled tight
In a ball
Of stress, and strife,
Fighting for breath,
Yearning for more
Life.
And now
Is the stasis,
No more status quo
Of chasing, and running
With nowhere to go
But round, once more
Mad rush to the floor.
Still,
All is still
And quiet, inside
The voices of urgency
Crying loud, like seagull-screech
Deep in chest, they have left
Empty nest, neither squawking birds,
Nor baby chicks crying for food,
No up and down roller coaster,
Just slight shift in mood.
I go up, and down,
And back again,
Always the same,
Dearest of friends,
Round to call,
Yet not the same,
For underneath it all
Is something calm, leaves coating the ground
Multi-coloured nature’s blanket, unraked,
Unneeded, unnoticed, unheeded, but all of that’s
Just noise, background hum,
Sliced through by the tinnitus,
Sound of silence, constant
And when all’s said and done,
Cliche after cliche marching two-by-two,
This one is truer than that one,
My eyes are clearer than yours,
Money pouring from pockets opens doors
That don’t really matter.
Will I ever hear the little pitter-patter
Of un-padded feet?
Is that the aim of life,
Or something else entirely,
Something achingly deep,
Soulfully wide,
Scarringly bright,
That we carefully hide,
As if
To share
That one deep dark truth within,
Would be the greatest of fears realised,
Life’s ultimate sin,
Against ourselves,
Throbbing ache deep in gut,
Or just above,
As if the hole of lonely acceptance
No longer misses the love,
But instead resides – monkey-like –
In chest,
Never to be warmed by soft-armed vest,
The hug of a loved one
Momentary relief
Loves empty crater
Memory of happiness
Slightest of balms
For later, but now all we have
Is the roundabout thought,
The feeling of loss
That itself means nought,
Great empty divide
Basin invisible in the dark,
The playground from hell,
Broken reality,
Healing heart.
