when darkness falls

What am I worth to you?

How is a person’s worth determined anyway? Is there some sort of calculation or algorithm that gives the indisputable proof and distinction between who is “better” than someone else?

Are all people truly created equal? Or, are there nuances and evolutionary discrepancies that creep into the genes, making some more worthy or important than others.

What constitutes “worth”?

Someone I admire once told me that – Love doesn’t run out. Never. It doesn’t happen. What runs out is one person’s willingness to sacrifice for the other.

How will I ever be worthy?

worthy of what??

What do you do when love is not reciprocated, and your heart aches and breaks? How do you stop the cycle of shock – pain – shock – pain – anguish – shock – pain – ad infinitum?

There is nowhere to run; nowhere to find comfort or solace. There are only the dark hours and tears.

How do you JUST F***ING STOP calling and hurting and crying?? How do you stop thinking of that which just haunts and hurts and humiliates you? When does the longing, lingering, lamenting end?

Why am I not worth the effort?

…

Unworthy of love..

I’m so exhausted from hurting ALL the time.

I believe it was Dr. Shirley (Dolly Parton) from Working 9 to 5, or something to that effect who said – if you are in a unloving relationship where the guy doesn’t value you for who and what you are, then changing yourself to suit him, hoping he’ll wake up one day, is only gonna lead to more pain.

He may wake up and notice you, or he may never. The best thing to do is get up and get out – meet people and live for oneself. He may wake up, or he may not. At least you then didn’t waste your life waiting for someone who may never love you back.

Or, … so I’ve heard.

A smidgeon of Hope

Seldom is it that one experiences a new lease on life.

Hope is the most complex and tenacious of emotions a human being can experience. It can inspire you to move mountains for what you believe in. As you stare the facts in the face, you can deny them, as you cling fiercely to that fraction of hope you maintain.

It can thus be a destructive emotion.

As one breaks and breaks again one’s heart against the jagged rocks on the ocean of discontent, hope is the emotion that perpetuates the disbelief, anger, sadness, the cycle.

Is life better when all hope is lost?

No.

There is therefore both a healing, nurturing sort of hope. And, in contradiction to that, there is an assimilating, smothering hope, which destroys life.

The task at hand therefore is to identify what emotions one is dealing with at any given time. And then, to take the appropriate action.

My head and my heart are at war.

How do I let go of the pain?

Ba-bai hasie hasie (Afr. Post)

Inleiding

my lewe - 'n nimmereindigende kruispad.

Wie is ek

'n bedorwe ou brokkie staar na die rekenaarskerm voor haar. Gebore in die Kaap van storms, en daai tafelvormige berg, geskep uit liefde, groot bruin ogies vol verwagting en verwonder. nomadies van die een hoek van die land na die ander - nou oppad na my middel-twintiger jare. My gesig die ene skok - waarheen is my jongdae? Hard geswot, hard gewerk, alleen en verwoes. My lewe is 'n oopboek toets - die antwoorde is daar, maar hoe gaan ek toepassing en insig vind?

Waarheen is ek oppad

my lewe lê oop voor my, 'n gekronkelde pad - soos die gekreukelde gesig van my afgestorwe ouma, vol liefde, pyne, skete en vreugde. daar is geen padkaart. net oneindigende teer tot in ewigheid. ek is waarskynlik oppad nêrens heen. een van die dae bou ek my tuiste daar.

Wat is my doel in hierie ou lewe

my brein borrel oor met kennis en tegniek, geskiedenis en humor. ek is 'n afgelewe wilger langs 'n stille meer. hier om so veel van die koel sparkelende waters van kennis op te slurp, en dus my droë en dor blare te vervris.

Hoe voel ek oor die hele saak

Grotendeels is apatie my naam. Sarkasme is my verkore vriendin. Saam gaan ons die lewe in, sinies en negatief. Wat is die eerste stap na die saligheid van geluk? Wie weet.

Naskrif

Dis moeiliker as wat dit lyk.

my first day of school

I don't recall what day it was. Although, in all probability, it was more than likely a Monday.

Remember remember...

Remember, remember the Fifth of November,
The Gunpowder Treason and Plot,
I know of no reason
Why Gunpowder Treason
Should ever be forgot.
Guy Fawkes, Guy Fawkes, t'was his intent
To blow up King and Parliament.
Three-score barrels of powder below
To prove old England's overthrow;
By God's providence he was catch'd
With a dark lantern and burning match.
Holloa boys, holloa boys, let the bells ring.
Holloa boys, holloa boys, God save the King!