Annie đŻđťđ§¸
I donât think of all the misery, but of all the beauty that still remains- Anne Frank
Annie đŻđťđ§¸
I donât think of all the misery, but of all the beauty that still remains- Anne Frank
I donât think of all the misery, but of all the beauty that still remains- Anne Frank
I donât think of all the misery, but of all the beauty that still remains- Anne Frank
If only I had tried to get to know you enough I couldâve understood what made you distrust
If only I couldâve been there, been by your side Maybe, just maybe, Iâll try reverse time
If only you had told me that you were hurting inside Then possibly on that Monday morning, you wouldnât of died
If only youâd told me that you were in pain That it was driving you crazy, you felt insane
If only I could feel your touch again I know I canât get it back, Iâll be forever discontent
If only I could time travel back to the days To the carefree hours of childhood, now a haze
If only I had told you I loved you, please stay Maybe, just maybe, I couldâve felt your touch today
You are here because the outside world rejects you. They donât want you. Youâre different, youâre strange. Youâre peculiar and youâre just not like everybody else. Your mind, your mind thinks differently to the people around you.
They think youâre crazy. Youâre crazy. Youâre so damn crazy. They think youâll do something, something that is dangerous. Are they worried about you or their reputation?
So, they lock you up. Youâre crazy. Youâre uncontrollable. Nothing will stop you from getting what you want. Youâre a monster. Thatâs what they tell you. Again and again and again.
Thereâs something wrong with you. When the logic says right, you think left. When initiative tells you up, you think down. Youâre so weird. You try to call out, you try to say, no, Iâm not crazy. I just donât think the same as every other person. But they tell you, no, you have it wrong. Youâre crazy. Youâre out of control.
You walk the aisles that are starched a merciless colour. It blinds you in an unforgivable manner. As you walk these aisles, you notice guards trailing behind you, keeping their beady eyes glued to your back. They canât trust you because youâre crazy.
Your mind churns and tumbles, begging, calling, for a safe haven where they can hide from the vicious of the world. You reach your so-called âroomâ and are instantly tied up to shackles.
Iâm not crazy. Iâm not crazy. Iâm not crazy. You tell this to yourself over and over again, Iâm not, Iâm not. But you know that they will never believe you. Only you know that youâre an ordinary person with a mind that has temporarily gone haywire. Only you know that youâre not harmful. Only you know that you miss your family and you miss your motherâs hugs and you miss your fatherâs smile. Youâre the only one that knows.
They press and polk and jab injections into you, thinking that liquid will cure your mind. They make you do exercises and tasks, thinking it will make you stronger. Little do they know that itâs their words that really bring you down.
Donât disobey any orders. Youâre crazy. Youâre so damn crazy that someone needs to look after you. Someone needs to be by your side 24/7 to make sure you donât try to hurt someone. They still think youâre a murderer. A serial killer. A burglar. A liar. Anything with negative connotations, they will link back to you.
You breathe in, slow and heavy. You tell yourself, Iâm not crazy, Iâm not crazy. Iâm temporarily broken. But I can be healed. Not like this, not the way they are treating me. Iâm not crazy, Iâm not crazy. Iâm not a murderer. I wonât hurt anyone. I donât need shackles. I donât need injections or exercises, I just need love and patience. I donât need anymore pain. I donât need constant monitoring. Iâm not crazy.
I fly high above the clouds Swooping in and out, up and away I look down below at the crowds Thousands of specks, scattered astray
I float up to heavenâs golden gates And am greeted by two angels They tell me that my time still awaits I see my grandma as I float away, how painful
I decide to take the angelâs words Maybe take a look or two around I continue to fly next to the birds See by what the earth is bound
I take a lick of cotton candy The clouds proving plentiful I spot a rainbow which is quite handy The slide down was truly incredible!
Fairies and elves join my flight as well A unicorn dashes passed us, in the nick of time! Santa Clause comes early, ringing his bell And the east bunny arrives with chocolate delights
We have a picnic in the clouds With treats and delights galore Santa showered me with gifts worth a crown All of them I do adore!
My friends check their watches that go tick tick tick They start waving at dear me and saying goodbye Santa disappears and the fairies go âclickâ They all disappear and wish me goodnight
Crowds. I hate them with all my heart. The feeling of being pressed up between bodies, between people that I may not know, between people that might be dangerous, thatâs scary. Very scary. When Iâm in a crowd, my head starts throbbing and a loading banging noise sounds in my ears, like something is trying to escape. I wish I knew what.
The fear of crowds is âprofessionallyâ called Enochlophobia. I suppose it can be associated with claustrophobia , the fear of small spaces, and social anxiety. Sometimes I can feel so stupid to be scared of something that most people donât mind, even enjoy! My friends, Dani And Lily, go places on the weekends to have some fun before school starts, but I can never go because wherever they go, no matter where, there will be some sort of crowd! Small or big.
My phone starts ringing on my bedside table as I lie in bed, my thoughts drifting from how much Iâve missed out on because of this stupid phobia and what to eat for breakfast. I pick it up and see the call is from Lily.
âHey Olivia, please please please come with us to the beach! Weâve found one that is pretty isolated, but there will be a small crowd. Itâs summer and everyone wants to go the beach. Please,â she begs. I think about the people on the beach and an image drifts passed my eyes of old women in bathing suits pressing up against me as they ask me to put sunscreen on their backs.
Then I think about everything Iâve missed out on. I havenât gone on a single school excursion because the bus makes me feel like dying. I canât join any clubs because everything Iâm interested in is packed with people. I canât go to the shopping mall with friends on the weekend because I canât handle the jostle of people. Thinking about it now, I really canât do anything! At all!
âYou know what, yes, I will come!â I say and I hear Lily squeal through the phone, deafening my ear.
âYes, this is amazing. Iâll come pick you up at 1pm and then weâll grab Dani. Make sure youâre in your bathers when I come!â She says excitedly, her happiness getting me happy.
The clock ticks by and the hour hand inches closer and closer to the ominous 1. The doubt starts to kick in and more images fly by of different scenarios that could occur. What if we decide to get ice cream and the line is very long? We would have to wait with a whole crowd of people.
No, stop this Olivia I am literally hoping for things to go wrong. I take a deep breath and gulp the fresh air drifting from my window that I so desperately need. Itâs okay, if things go wrong, theyâll go wrong, but atleast I tried. I tried my very damn best and I think I can live with that.
âYour room is an absolute mess! Itâs a complete pig sty, this is an atrocity!â My mum yells at me, a cold hard glare set in her eyes, directed solely at me.
âHow could you say that?! Itâs not mess, it just has...character. My art teacher told me that a messy room shows creativity and personality,â I shoot back. I have to be careful not to raise my voice too much though, sheâs still my mum and I owe it to her to respect her. Respect her about everything except for my bedroom.
âOh, I suppose you can just go ask your art teacher to be your mum then. Yes, sheâll cook breakfast, lunch and dinner. Sheâll iron the clothes and fold them. Sheâll clean the house everyday while running a business from home. Donât worry, your art teacher will do it all,â mum shouts.
I can tell she is mad. Very mad. Her eyes glow and I almost see them shift from their hazel hue to a demonic red. Stop Abigail, donât call your mum a demon. I glance up again, wait, do I see the devilâs horns poking up from her head?
âAbigail Spilsbury, are you listening to me?â She shouts and I snap back out of my weird daydream.
âYes, yes sorry. Iâll clean it up later, when I get a chance.â
âWhen you get a chance!? When you get a chance?!?! Excuse me, if I packed your school lunch âwhen I got a chanceâ, you wouldnât have any!â She yells and I raise my eyebrows slightly.
Sometimes, I wish parents would just...listen. I get it. Iâm messy, Iâm dirty, Iâm stupid, Iâm weird, Iâm not normal, but Iâm me. Parents can set very high expectations on their children, not even realising that they can break their child down at the same time. I said I would clean my room when I got a chance, I have to finish my school assignment. But mum doesnât listen. She never does.
âMum, please. I donât have time. I just need to finish off my homework,âI sigh.
âIâm only trying to help Abby, a clean room is important. When your room is messy, it gets unhealthy and unhygienic. You can get sick!â Mum says, her tone softened now.
âI know mum, I promise Iâll clean it.â I say and she gives me a small smile. As she walks out of my room, stepping over the pile of clothes at my door, I notice how tired she looks. Her once upright and bouncy posture, now remains little more than a slump. She rubs her back in pain and wrinkles start to cover her forehead. Mumâs still as beautiful as ever and before, of course, otherwise how would I get my dashing looks? But she looks...different.
I feel a thread of guilt tying a bow in the back of my head and I decide to help her more. We have to understand each other. We have to listen.
The first day on the job The cards tell me To finish a dying man Crying on his knees
I find his exact location And arrive to see family Gathered around his body Everybody cries profusely
I scan the body lying there My sources come to report A father of two, dying of cancer No mother was present to support
My heart cries a little As I hold my scythe Over the manâs limp body
I check my list of tasks to do And read all of the names Of people of ages old and young Who would breathe their last breath today
A girl has leukaemia A mother lost her child A father with cancer And a boy who wants to die
I canât be the one to end these lives That havenât even been lived out fully The boy, the mother, the father and the girl Will all live long, blissfully
As for my job, Iâve now lost
After making the right decision
We must all die someday, somehow
But sometimes weâve just got to keep living
The Club of All Sorts Part III:
My heart hammers and alarm bells ring in my head, yelling at me to escape this situation I have found myself in, but how? I can feel Maya trembling and shaking as she clings onto my hand in fear. Alexâs face mirrors mine, pure terror.
âDonât shoot, please. What do you want?â Alex whispers and I see the man slightly hesitate, cocking his gun down just a bit. My fear echelon remains the same however.
âWhereâs your principal. Tell me, donât ask questions,â he states firmly and I have a strange feeling sitting in my stomach. So he wasnât a school shooter? No school shooter asks to speak to the principal, or to anyone for that matter.
âWhy?â I whisper and I feel Maya tense up next to me. Thatâs when I realise he clearly stated no questions. I am such an idiot!
âI told you, no questions,â he says and he lifts his gun again. I see his finger probe the trigger.
âSorry, sorry, sorry!â I shout, but my voice comes out hoarse and irregular. I contemplate not telling him where the principal is. It was a bit strange but my fear took over any logical thinking.
âThe principal has just finished his announcements at the assembly so heâs probably back in his office now,â I whisper. My head throbs and my heart churns, one flick off his finger and we would be dead, lying on the ground, motionless. I feel Alex tense up next to me. Thatâs when I understand, I shouldnât of said anything.
âWhere is everybody else?â The man replies and Maya nods her head helplessly because of my decision to the back of the school where the assembly hall stands, unknowing about what is happening a corner around. I slap myself inside, why the heck would I tell this man, this stranger, where the principal was! It was illogical, it didnât make sense! But I still did it.
âWhere is the principalâs office?â The man asks. A steady silence follows, only filled by the sound of our hearts thumping. He clicks his gun and we all frantically point behind him. He turns around and starts walking.
âYou come too,â he says loudly and we all follow like obedient puppies. Any plan of saving our school is ruined. He made us come so we wouldnât run back and get help. We walk all the way to the other end of the school to the office, us giving directions and him clicking his gun.
The man gets a phone call and he answers it straight away. He bends down and starts whispering into his little device, hidden from us, and starts mumbling. I catch fragments of what he is saying.
âYes, Iâm about to kill the principal...Iâll deal with the kids later...Iâll take his money and give it to you, but I want half, as promised!â
He wasnât just a shooter, he was a shooting, murdering, lying assassinator!
The Last Tent VI:
An agent standing by the large reception desk drops her coffee mug and it shatters into thousands of pieces on the marble floor. Jaws are dropping everywhere as the alarm bells ring endlessly in my head. I try to wave at the fairies, telling them to hide again, but I know itâs no use.
âHey guys...long time no see huh?â I say slowly. What a way to make an entrance. An entourage of fairies hovering behind me as I stand in my dirty white dress, looking like a birdâs nest. Perfectly splendid.
I expect them to start barreling us down, punching and kicking us, but they stand perfectly still, frozen in fear. Ironic. Years of training and they are scared of fairies. Well, to be fair, I was too but thatâs beside the point.
âPlease donât be scared of us. Weâre fairies, and itâs just splendid to meet you! We came here to ask you for a favour,â a fairy says perkily. A boy at the back faints and topples onto the ground, leaving another agent to struggle to pick him up again. The fairy and I exchange a look. Humans. Pathetic.
âUh, well, anyways, we need you to help us save our land, and yourâs! The trolls are planning to take over the world and we are all in danger! There arenât enough fairies to beat them, but together, we can crush them into pieces! â the fairy exclaims.
I see a girlâs eyes widen with shock, perhaps in wonder if it was me or her that had gone mad. She turns around and whispers to the agent next to her. I see a small tilt of the head, upwards and then a more firm tilt following.
âOkay, weâll help you, but thereâs one condition,â the agent says, and she looks as if sheâs speaking with sarcasm.
âYou have to give us some fairy dust.â
I see the fairyâs eyes drop. She ponders for a moment and then gives a reluctant nod. I can see the love she has for a society, her family. Sheâs willing to do anything to save them.
The fairy opens another portal and accompanied by more shocked expressions, we walk through.
We reach our destination on the same pedestal I first arrived to the Trollâs land on. The background continues to be its bleary grey that drains all the life and colour from the image. Immediately, it starts to rain. I realise that the rain this time is a black goop that drips down on us. Well, donât forget your umbrella I suppose.
I look around and realise that in the distance, the trolls that scanter about are preparing for something. Grabbing an agentâs hand I quickly bring everyone to hide behind a large brick wall where we are hidden from sight. The trolls carry large guns, strange guns and other irregular weapons. Their preparing for battle.
We walk down the dock, our arms linked with one another, and there is sentimental peace that hangs in the air. Itâs filled with worry, sadness and fear but also...tranquility.
Jennieâs hair looks brown in the light and I giggle quietly. Sheâs always wanted to dye her pitch black hair a different colour, but the sun has already done it for her! She catches my failed attempt at stifling my laugh and gives me a goofy raised eyebrow.
âWhat, whatâs wrong! Is there something on my head?â She questions. The pier seems to be coming to an end as we come to a halt on the weakly built structure.
âYes! Thereâs a ginormous spider itâs crawling up your head and itâs about to crawl through your ear!â I exclaim and she gives me a pointed look. We both laugh at my insanely weird joke.
âWell, I guess this is my stop then,â Jennie murmurs and I mumble acknowledgement quietly. I didnât really want it to be her stop though. Jennie, my very best friend since childhood, was a sailor. She controlled giant ships, delivered cargo, anything to do with ships, she knew and most likely was a part of. She was the goddess of the sea.
I on the other hand was, I suppose, the goddess of the sky. The planes I flew soared high, weaving in through the clouds and diving down to reach land. I was a pilot. We were both doing what we loved, but we were doing it on our own.
A memory flashes passed my eyes of a younger version of Jennie and myself. We sit on the colourful carpet in my room and draw pictures, crayon covering the walls and bedsheets that were once a pristine white. The drawings are of Jennie and I standing in a bakery, linking arms and clutching wonky cakes in our free hands.
Our childhood dream was to own a bakery. But things changed and our dreams changed over time.
Jennie fell in love with the ocean and I fell in love with the sky. The feeling of being up so high, so unstoppable, itâs the feeling that Iâve been looking for my entire life, and Iâve finally found it. Being on the ocean and feeling the waves pushing her up and down, thatâs the feeling Jennieâs always wanted, I suppose.
But, it doesnât matter that our careers have taken very different paths, because in the end we will always be there for each other, no matter where we are. Iâll look below for Jennieâs black-brown hair and sheâll look up for my beaming smile.
A loud beep sounds, signalling that the ship is getting ready to leave and my phone alarm beeps, telling me that I have to start heading to the airport. I turn around to face Jennie for the last time for a long while.
âBe careful out there,â I whisper and she pulls me into a tight embrace.
âYou too Rose, you too.â
Her skin is rough white cloth Any moment, she can fall apart She has thousands of colourful pins Sticking out of her heart
Used for worrisome purposes A form of dangerous revenge Just stick a pin in and wish And youâll never see your foe again
Little voodoo doll, hanging up so high You were once a childâs play toy You hold the most power in the world The pain you cause, do you enjoy?
Dolly so pale, dolly so calm, I need a favour I must stick a pin right through your heart And make the most gruesome wish If you prefer, I can throw a few darts
Dear voodoo doll, all I ask of you is this As soon as I stick the pin, make her writhe in pain Make her regret everything she has done Thatâs hurt me and left me crying in the rain
I understand itâs wrong, and it never will be right But for now youâre my precious pearl And youâll do as I write, no matter the result Now Iâll stick the pin in you, my dear voodoo girl