Empty love

There’s a flatness to you, paper-white in my hands.

There’s a smoothness to you and I fill your unrealness with my love.

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I’ve had a long absence

I’ve been away from this, so I’ll post a small ream starting now.

I already feel a bit of relief starting, I don’t think I’ve taken enough time to be on my own properly this last few weeks, so my writing’s suffered.

Also, my computer wasn’t working so well, so that kept frustrating me, but that seems sorted at this point, although I haven’t actually done anything to it – haha. I think it’s just on it’s last legs really.

Here we go :).

H x

 

 

Nutcracker

This is a screenshot of a message I got last night from someone I’ve never spoken to. I’ve expertly doctored it as you can see, using the stickers available on my phone, it was either that or a snowman, so I used the nutcracker.

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Yes, I wrote “empathetic” in my profile. Do I care if he doesn’t recognise it as a word? No.

Was I mean to him in that message I sent before blocking him? Yes. But I think he deserved it for angering me.

I like language, and as a teenager maybe I was more of a pedant with punctuation and grammar and vocabulary than I am now. I think I’ve grown up and I no longer see the point in “correcting” people.

All he was doing by introducing himself and the conversation in that way was trying to belittle me and I won’t be belittled by a nutcracker.

I just feel that, unless someone is using offensive slurs or really appropriative or inappropriate language, let them be. Simple mistakes or a little bit of creativity shouldn’t make people feel the need to try and chop people up.

Making words fit for what you need them for is fine, I reckon. That’s how new words come about and without change and growth, language would become stagnant.

For the record, I was saying in my profile, in the I’m really good at section: “Being empathetic and non-judgemental :).” Sympathetic didn’t feel right, so I wrote empathetic and that’s not a crime nutcracker, so stop cracking my nuts.

Also, “joke practice”, srsly? πŸ˜‰

P.S. Just found this:

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Not a fantastic picture, but it says:

Empathetic:

of, relating to, or characterised by empathy, the psychological identification with the feelings, thought or attitudes of others:

a sensitive, empathetic school counsellor.

Ha.

P.P.S – Also, I don’t know this guy’s intention, it felt accusatory and annoying but, if it was an opener, just a note – I hate when people try and start an argument as an opener – but that’s a post for another day maybe.

Soothing dimness of a laptop screen with the brightness settings down – a note to a laptop

Gentle cool light holds me and I hold it.

We can be so supportive of each other now, symbiotic.

You can be a crutch and a confessional catalyst for my catharsis,

You can be a listening ear in the dead-time night,

You can be glorious opportunity to throw my words out into the canal and receive them back, so quick, so elegant.

You, the same machine that crushed me with your thousand emails of things I hadn’t done,

You were my labouring into heavy nights of swimming lights and streams of bitter words I didn’t feel proud of,

You were a reminder of my failing to connect, but even then, when my facebook was a social minefield and my emails were a never-willingly-visited place,

You’d let me watch your screen and fade to black, “Are you still watching?” You’d ask.

Of course I am, you absolute foolish rectangle.

Marble

I’m back,

What to say.

Don’t really know where I’m at, I’m definitely tired though.

Here, let me write for you.

Bang something out just here,

Talking of a

“Heavy wisp in a body,

Fast mind and slow hands,

Head slipping molten off it’s crux,

Rolls, metal orb along the floor and down the stairs to wilderness,

Pulled through the bottom layer of floor and foundation

Bolts into core to blissful heat”

– It’s mediocre but it’s something.

A landscape built at ten past midnight

Rolling hills, grassy carpet daisy-dotted,

Teletubby land but without the disturbing lion and bear who were the fear of all kids born in the nineties,

A vegan KFC plopped in the middle provides ethical nourishment in the land of Bedfordshire,

Red and white tiles, but we’re in England, not America – I assume.

And I can sit on the floor it’s that clean, just in the corner where I like it.

Cake and custard for afters and you don’t have to pay, obviously, because who pays for things in dreamlands.