DLS

This is one of those kinds of posts that I don't plan to write. The inspiration comes abruptly and simply pushes me to the keyboard and makes me type. A couple of minutes ago I was swimming through the faerie ocean of music, and suddenly, it hit me. The song I was listening to bears quite a provocative name, "Dirty Little Secret", which as you may have noticed is exactly what the title of this post means. I was captured not only by the catchy music and the profound lyrics of this song, but also, the music video didn't fail to make an impression. Briefly, in the video there are many people in different places holding small notes on which they've written their own, inmost, dirty little secret. 
I've always been fond of this song, but today it acquired a complete new meaning for me. Initially, people get fooled by the word dirty in the title. But dirty should not necessarily be associated with something with sexual context. Dirty, in fact, is a reflection of what society considers inappropriate. This is where a fact becomes a secret. Thinking about this, all of our insecurities come from people's opinions, which stick to the commonly accepted standards. Doesn't it make you feel like a freak when you get rejected for something that represents your own self? This is where the difficult part of being a part of a society comes. Are you changing in order to get accepted in the herd or are you remaining sui generis*?
Everyone has their dirty little secret. Are you ashamed of yours? 

From another point of view, a dirty little secret denotes an intimate fear that you're incapable of overcoming. In fact, incapable of overcoming on your own. The point of this whole thing is, you don't always have to be ashamed of things that scare you or things you're not comfortable with being part of you. But if it seems impossible for you to surmount, you're either too mentally weak, or you simply don't want to get rid of them. In most cases, the best thing you can do is accept it.

DLS: I don't like talking to 93% of the people I talk to. They annoy me.
DLS#2: 97% of my statistics are made up. I just hate people, that's all.




*sui generis - unique

Dec 28

I bet you've had those days that you rather sleep all day than be awake and feel bad. Let's be honest. That's not due sadness.

Those moments when you feel your heart in your stomach and you're desperately trying to find a way to go back in time and do something in a different way or simply don't do it. Or moments that you desire to disappear or you just hate yourself. It's called guilt. And it is not on self basis. The reason is someone else, more specifically someone who had trust in you, someone you disappointed.

This is the moment you become worthless in your own eyes to the rest of the world. The reason, the betrayal. Your betrayal to that person and to yourself.

The problem out of this is that there is no actual turning back, which means you're becoming also hopeless. And the question is whether you should do something about it or you should just put that in your pipe and smoke it.

Take a moment to appreciate what you have or what you're starting to gain before you ruin or lose it.

Early Morning Poetry

Blood. Down your throat, down your face
The end. No more pride, no more grace
You're choking on the words you try to say
and your sins are digging down your grave

Pray no more, there's no God here
Our souls are filthy, whose is clear?
Or if you will, you pray but yet remember
No one listens, no one loves you tender

No one will 'be there' forever
Trust is dull, you're more clever
Drown and die but have you lived with honor?
When no one got to know you, you're just another stoner

I know that you're deeper though
Broken heart, damaged soul
The rest, they see just a facade
If you seek truth, you must seek inside.

Sonnet

Hopeless in the middle of the night I lie

Thinking I was only born to die

Mischievous ghosts are taking all the pain

to put it in my eyes and turn it into rain

Another leaf of hope falling from this tree

This tree now just a trunk of distant memories

By it I sit and listen to the silence

I hear the wind, I see the violence

The good one always walks alone

the closest ones are here but they don't

wish to stay, their place is set

they're the friends that I have never met

The misfortunes of virtue, I thought.

But virtue is not all I've got.

E. Hastings

Blind

Our life is not a life.

It's a puppet show. Spectacular.

Keep silent. Never rouse a strife

Be the same as others or be similar.

Be just a sheep in a numerous herd

Play innocent, play weak

If you speak, they'll just pretend they never heard

So it's better if you never speak

You're so blind and so is everybody else here

They had jabbed your eyes and silenced your opinion

Look around, everybody's brainwashed, dear

Your face says 'fine' but your soul wants a rebellion.

Stand out! For your own's sake, stand out!

I beg to differ from the mass.

Save your cloud-castle! Run! Shout!

Or your notional fetters will forever last.

Open your eyes. 

E. Hastings

Admire me from a distance

The unfathomable reason why this dreamless night prompted me to make an inspirational confession makes me quite perplexed but it also makes me feel like I'm becoming more discerning, more aware of how to warily protect my heart from being smashed once again. 

I, like most of the people, couldn't miss that phase of life, called puberty, which is known to be every parent's nightmare but to be honest, my parents hardly knew when I hit puberty crisis because what I did was the worst thing that a child could do then or the best, I don't even know. But I buried my thoughts and feelings inside and never let anyone help me. I never understood whether it made me emotional to the utmost or resistant to a large degree. Out of this, however, I appeared to be both. Unexpectedly in a way, this inevitably led me to a state of mind which meant believing that my soul has bones. Bones, steady to that point where a single smile could break them and my soul would collapse in anxiety. It was OK until I realised that every time my soul toppled down, it left scratches on my heart. It seems to be quite blurry what happens next so I'm leaping straight to my confession. 

Intimacy frightens me! It scares me to death and I don't even have a crystal clear reason why. I would rather lock myself in an invisible box of prudence while dreaming about a fetterless, emotion-releasing existence with a constant spark of joy and life-gladness.

So admire me from a distance. Not because I am threatening you. Not because I am cold. But because I am fragile. My soul has bones but they are breakable.

Drowning In White Agony

DROWNING IN WHITE AGONY

In the darkness you fall.

But aren't you pleased to be a shadow?

You're hardly any visible and hardly ever seen.

You love it even though you don't know what it means.

But why are you feeling so shallow?

In the darkness you crawl.

Does it take a little bravery to be a ghost?

Are you brave enough to be so viewless?

Take a breath.

Hold your breath.

Now release it, though it's pointless.

Wasn't that the thing you feared the most?

You're pale and fading.

Seems like drugs had drained your soul.

I can feel you're losing hope.

Stop!

I remember that there used to be a heart where now's a hole.

You're wan and shading.

But the comfortable darkness you are hid in

won't be your refuge for good.

Run! It's over.

Don't you feel you're getting sober?

Now you're gone but there's a shadow where you stood.

You're too deep, there's no point diggin'.

You slide.

Look around, it's winter.

You are clean so is your mind and heart.

But your mind is stoned and your soul is hard.

You turn into an icicle and you splinter.

You fall.

You're drowning

in white.

E. Hastings