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And so the dream began.
It was always sketchy. As with all dreams, it wasn't the plot that mattered, but the feeling. The way things were to you, it was all about the emotion.
Something that made you happy. Something that made you sad.
Something that made you want to cut your throat. Something that made you want to rip the skin off your body and let the cold air bite at your bare nerves.
And it was always about comfort. Well, at first. The whole dream was a comfort. The dream wanted to make you feel warm. It wanted to make you feel as if you didn't have a care in the world.
The dream of a wooden ranch, up in the mountains. It was where we had the world to ourselves.
And as we felt the warmth of the fire against our naked bodies, curled up together on the big white fluffy rug that wrapped itself around us... we watched the snow fall outside. We watched the stars in the night sky, the snow lit up by the faint lights outside out door.
The beauty of the world all in one room. Happiness forever, it seemed, simply by the thought and the dream.
And our eyes were each others, and our hearts were each others. The whole world darted around us and we didn't even feel a breeze.
And maybe we'd end up making love. And maybe we'd fall asleep, right there, together, wrapped around each other. Thinking of how much we went through. How much we've been through. How much more we had to go through.
But it was just the dream. It was just a dream.
And then it'd skip. Like some record. You knew something had happened between those two parts but at that moment, at that precise moment there was nothing more important than what was happening there and then.
And along came a spider and sat down beside her, and frightened Miss Muffet away...
Running through a hospital. She'd been taken in. You'd been messaged to say she'd been taken in but you can't even remember that far back. Not at the moment.
You can't even feel your pulse. Algebra is non-existant. There are people dying every second. With every step you take another person just died. But you're not thinking about that.
You're thinking about her. You're worried absolutely sick that she's ok.
And then you're being held back by doctors. And then you're shouting. And then, sooner or later, past what seems like hours, what seems like your whole life, you're sitting next to her.
And you're sitting next to her and she's holding your hand. And she's squeezing you so hard and you're squeezing back.
And you've forgotten completely what cut grass smells like. You haven't a clue what the moon looks like in a cloudless sky over the mountains back where you lived.
All that matters is now. And that's why, later, you'll think it was just a dream.
And you hold her hand. And she shouts at you and you squeeze her hand and tell her to be strong. You look her in the eye with all your strength and you TELL her to be strong. You TELL her that she's about to go through the most beautiful of experiences on this planet and you TELL her she NEEDS to be strong. She NEEDS that strength. You TELL her to shut right up. You TELL her that she's going to give birth, and that's what matters right now. Nothing else.
And you've taken so long to realise that. And you've taken so damn long to realise that you love her so much that you have this deep down need to give her all the strength in the world.
And at first you don't know how to do that. At first you think perhaps you should just comfort her. At first you think perhaps what women need, in all, is a man to tell her she's beautiful time and time again. Someone who can beat down that paranoia that is going to rise time and time again in her soul.
And that goes on for a while. And sooner or later it wears thin. And sooner or later you find that you've become dependent.
And you realise it. And one day, you tell her she needs to stand on her own.
And she starts to.
You love her so much that you need to take her hand and squeeze it so hard until she squeezes back. And you will kick her, you will kick her so damn hard until she can stand this on her own.
Because there was another dream.
There was this dream, which quickly became a nightmare.
Because at some stage you forgot what strength was. And as you watched her give birth, and as you couldn't give her strength, you watched as this baby was born. And you watched as she ripped the baby from her, tore at it.
You watched as she pulled the baby in two. You watched as she ripped it's head off, and threw it as hard as she could at the wall.
And you had no strength. You just watched.
And you just watched as she slammed the baby into the wall. You watched as the lifeless body slipped down the side of the wall, the blood and life of the soul dripping down onto the floor.
And the nightmare continued.
And it just went on.
And at first you wanted to blame her. Firstly you wanted to ask her WHY? Why did you take the beauty? Why did you destroy all we had created?
And that passes. Because you realise it wasn't true.
She didn't destroy a thing.
And then you blame yourself. You blame all you've done. You blame the 'way you are'.
You blame all you've done to be wrong. You realise that you had no right to be that father. You had no right. You trapped her. You tried to make her reliant. You wanted her to come to you and want you to hold her. You wanted her to come to you, to cry into your arms and make you hold her like a child.
Like the girl who never had a father.
And this is hard. And it takes time. And eventually, you realise, there is no blame.
And eventually you realise that all you've gone through, you realise how young you really are.
And eventually you realise how weak you really feel.
And it's not because you are weak. It's not that. It's because you feel weak.
And eventually, eventually, you start trying to convince yourself you're strong.
You are so strong.
You've been through so much.
You are NOT going to listen to that voice.
It is not your fault.
It is NOT your fault.
IT IS NOT YOUR FAULT.
And eventually, you don't even have to try anymore.
And eventually, it's so easy to tell yourself you're strong.
And you tell yourself so often it's sinking in.
And it's not because you tell yourself you're strong that makes you strong.
It's because you ARE strong.
It's because you ARE strong. And you have been all this time. Maybe you haven't seen more than most. Maybe you have.
Maybe you've been through so much. Maybe you haven't.
But you've gone through it ALL.
You've gone through so much. And you've been strong every simple step of that way.
And sometimes you found it hard to believe. And sometimes you thought you were pathetic.
And sometimes you thought you just weren't worthy. You thought you were needy. But you just needed time.
You needed the time to realise that you don't need anything but yourself.
And then the dream is real.
And then the dream is so damn real.
And then you find yourself sitting at the side of the bed, all over again.
And you're holding her hand again.
And this time, you're not letting her make you comfort her. You're not going to let her fall into that. Because she'll feel pathetic.
And you're not going to let yourself fall into that either. You'll truly believe that just because somebody wants you to give them confidence, that they love you.
In the end, she'll think you love her more. In the end, she'll think that you only love her for her strength, because perhaps that's what you just can't show.
And you'll look her in the eyes.
And you'll grip her hand.
And you'll say, you'll feed it into her mind, you'll say it so loudly that her soul will lift out of her body and lift her heart on high.
And you'll tell her she's beautiful.
And she'll tell you she knows.
It was always sketchy. As with all dreams, it wasn't the plot that mattered, but the feeling. The way things were to you, it was all about the emotion.
Something that made you happy. Something that made you sad.
Something that made you want to cut your throat. Something that made you want to rip the skin off your body and let the cold air bite at your bare nerves.
And it was always about comfort. Well, at first. The whole dream was a comfort. The dream wanted to make you feel warm. It wanted to make you feel as if you didn't have a care in the world.
The dream of a wooden ranch, up in the mountains. It was where we had the world to ourselves.
And as we felt the warmth of the fire against our naked bodies, curled up together on the big white fluffy rug that wrapped itself around us... we watched the snow fall outside. We watched the stars in the night sky, the snow lit up by the faint lights outside out door.
The beauty of the world all in one room. Happiness forever, it seemed, simply by the thought and the dream.
And our eyes were each others, and our hearts were each others. The whole world darted around us and we didn't even feel a breeze.
And maybe we'd end up making love. And maybe we'd fall asleep, right there, together, wrapped around each other. Thinking of how much we went through. How much we've been through. How much more we had to go through.
But it was just the dream. It was just a dream.
And then it'd skip. Like some record. You knew something had happened between those two parts but at that moment, at that precise moment there was nothing more important than what was happening there and then.
And along came a spider and sat down beside her, and frightened Miss Muffet away...
Running through a hospital. She'd been taken in. You'd been messaged to say she'd been taken in but you can't even remember that far back. Not at the moment.
You can't even feel your pulse. Algebra is non-existant. There are people dying every second. With every step you take another person just died. But you're not thinking about that.
You're thinking about her. You're worried absolutely sick that she's ok.
And then you're being held back by doctors. And then you're shouting. And then, sooner or later, past what seems like hours, what seems like your whole life, you're sitting next to her.
And you're sitting next to her and she's holding your hand. And she's squeezing you so hard and you're squeezing back.
And you've forgotten completely what cut grass smells like. You haven't a clue what the moon looks like in a cloudless sky over the mountains back where you lived.
All that matters is now. And that's why, later, you'll think it was just a dream.
And you hold her hand. And she shouts at you and you squeeze her hand and tell her to be strong. You look her in the eye with all your strength and you TELL her to be strong. You TELL her that she's about to go through the most beautiful of experiences on this planet and you TELL her she NEEDS to be strong. She NEEDS that strength. You TELL her to shut right up. You TELL her that she's going to give birth, and that's what matters right now. Nothing else.
And you've taken so long to realise that. And you've taken so damn long to realise that you love her so much that you have this deep down need to give her all the strength in the world.
And at first you don't know how to do that. At first you think perhaps you should just comfort her. At first you think perhaps what women need, in all, is a man to tell her she's beautiful time and time again. Someone who can beat down that paranoia that is going to rise time and time again in her soul.
And that goes on for a while. And sooner or later it wears thin. And sooner or later you find that you've become dependent.
And you realise it. And one day, you tell her she needs to stand on her own.
And she starts to.
You love her so much that you need to take her hand and squeeze it so hard until she squeezes back. And you will kick her, you will kick her so damn hard until she can stand this on her own.
Because there was another dream.
There was this dream, which quickly became a nightmare.
Because at some stage you forgot what strength was. And as you watched her give birth, and as you couldn't give her strength, you watched as this baby was born. And you watched as she ripped the baby from her, tore at it.
You watched as she pulled the baby in two. You watched as she ripped it's head off, and threw it as hard as she could at the wall.
And you had no strength. You just watched.
And you just watched as she slammed the baby into the wall. You watched as the lifeless body slipped down the side of the wall, the blood and life of the soul dripping down onto the floor.
And the nightmare continued.
And it just went on.
And at first you wanted to blame her. Firstly you wanted to ask her WHY? Why did you take the beauty? Why did you destroy all we had created?
And that passes. Because you realise it wasn't true.
She didn't destroy a thing.
And then you blame yourself. You blame all you've done. You blame the 'way you are'.
You blame all you've done to be wrong. You realise that you had no right to be that father. You had no right. You trapped her. You tried to make her reliant. You wanted her to come to you and want you to hold her. You wanted her to come to you, to cry into your arms and make you hold her like a child.
Like the girl who never had a father.
And this is hard. And it takes time. And eventually, you realise, there is no blame.
And eventually you realise that all you've gone through, you realise how young you really are.
And eventually you realise how weak you really feel.
And it's not because you are weak. It's not that. It's because you feel weak.
And eventually, eventually, you start trying to convince yourself you're strong.
You are so strong.
You've been through so much.
You are NOT going to listen to that voice.
It is not your fault.
It is NOT your fault.
IT IS NOT YOUR FAULT.
And eventually, you don't even have to try anymore.
And eventually, it's so easy to tell yourself you're strong.
And you tell yourself so often it's sinking in.
And it's not because you tell yourself you're strong that makes you strong.
It's because you ARE strong.
It's because you ARE strong. And you have been all this time. Maybe you haven't seen more than most. Maybe you have.
Maybe you've been through so much. Maybe you haven't.
But you've gone through it ALL.
You've gone through so much. And you've been strong every simple step of that way.
And sometimes you found it hard to believe. And sometimes you thought you were pathetic.
And sometimes you thought you just weren't worthy. You thought you were needy. But you just needed time.
You needed the time to realise that you don't need anything but yourself.
And then the dream is real.
And then the dream is so damn real.
And then you find yourself sitting at the side of the bed, all over again.
And you're holding her hand again.
And this time, you're not letting her make you comfort her. You're not going to let her fall into that. Because she'll feel pathetic.
And you're not going to let yourself fall into that either. You'll truly believe that just because somebody wants you to give them confidence, that they love you.
In the end, she'll think you love her more. In the end, she'll think that you only love her for her strength, because perhaps that's what you just can't show.
And you'll look her in the eyes.
And you'll grip her hand.
And you'll say, you'll feed it into her mind, you'll say it so loudly that her soul will lift out of her body and lift her heart on high.
And you'll tell her she's beautiful.
And she'll tell you she knows.
Exquisite.
....
Speechless mate.
Fantastic.
Absolutely friggin' fantastic.
Well written, beautifully written.
I might just read it all again.
Nice.
Speechless mate.
Fantastic.
Absolutely friggin' fantastic.
Well written, beautifully written.
I might just read it all again.
Nice.
And so the dream began.
It was always sketchy. As with all dreams, it wasn't the plot that mattered, but the feeling. The way things were to you, it was all about the emotion.
Something that made you happy. Something that made you sad.
Something that made you want to cut your throat. Something that made you want to rip the skin off your body and let the cold air bite at your bare nerves.
And it was always about comfort. Well, at first. The whole dream was a comfort. The dream wanted to make you feel warm. It wanted to make you feel as if you didn't have a care in the world.
The dream of a wooden ranch, up in the mountains. It was where we had the world to ourselves.
And as we felt the warmth of the fire against our naked bodies, curled up together on the big white fluffy rug that wrapped itself around us... we watched the snow fall outside. We watched the stars in the night sky, the snow lit up by the faint lights outside out door.
The beauty of the world all in one room. Happiness forever, it seemed, simply by the thought and the dream.
And our eyes were each others, and our hearts were each others. The whole world darted around us and we didn't even feel a breeze.
And maybe we'd end up making love. And maybe we'd fall asleep, right there, together, wrapped around each other. Thinking of how much we went through. How much we've been through. How much more we had to go through.
But it was just the dream. It was just a dream.
And then it'd skip. Like some record. You knew something had happened between those two parts but at that moment, at that precise moment there was nothing more important than what was happening there and then.
And along came a spider and sat down beside her, and frightened Miss Muffet away...
Running through a hospital. She'd been taken in. You'd been messaged to say she'd been taken in but you can't even remember that far back. Not at the moment.
You can't even feel your pulse. Algebra is non-existant. There are people dying every second. With every step you take another person just died. But you're not thinking about that.
You're thinking about her. You're worried absolutely sick that she's ok.
And then you're being held back by doctors. And then you're shouting. And then, sooner or later, past what seems like hours, what seems like your whole life, you're sitting next to her.
And you're sitting next to her and she's holding your hand. And she's squeezing you so hard and you're squeezing back.
And you've forgotten completely what cut grass smells like. You haven't a clue what the moon looks like in a cloudless sky over the mountains back where you lived.
All that matters is now. And that's why, later, you'll think it was just a dream.
And you hold her hand. And she shouts at you and you squeeze her hand and tell her to be strong. You look her in the eye with all your strength and you TELL her to be strong. You TELL her that she's about to go through the most beautiful of experiences on this planet and you TELL her she NEEDS to be strong. She NEEDS that strength. You TELL her to shut right up. You TELL her that she's going to give birth, and that's what matters right now. Nothing else.
And you've taken so long to realise that. And you've taken so damn long to realise that you love her so much that you have this deep down need to give her all the strength in the world.
And at first you don't know how to do that. At first you think perhaps you should just comfort her. At first you think perhaps what women need, in all, is a man to tell her she's beautiful time and time again. Someone who can beat down that paranoia that is going to rise time and time again in her soul.
And that goes on for a while. And sooner or later it wears thin. And sooner or later you find that you've become dependent.
And you realise it. And one day, you tell her she needs to stand on her own.
And she starts to.
You love her so much that you need to take her hand and squeeze it so hard until she squeezes back. And you will kick her, you will kick her so damn hard until she can stand this on her own.
Because there was another dream.
There was this dream, which quickly became a nightmare.
Because at some stage you forgot what strength was. And as you watched her give birth, and as you couldn't give her strength, you watched as this baby was born. And you watched as she ripped the baby from her, tore at it.
You watched as she pulled the baby in two. You watched as she ripped it's head off, and threw it as hard as she could at the wall.
And you had no strength. You just watched.
And you just watched as she slammed the baby into the wall. You watched as the lifeless body slipped down the side of the wall, the blood and life of the soul dripping down onto the floor.
And the nightmare continued.
And it just went on.
And at first you wanted to blame her. Firstly you wanted to ask her WHY? Why did you take the beauty? Why did you destroy all we had created?
And that passes. Because you realise it wasn't true.
She didn't destroy a thing.
And then you blame yourself. You blame all you've done. You blame the 'way you are'.
You blame all you've done to be wrong. You realise that you had no right to be that father. You had no right. You trapped her. You tried to make her reliant. You wanted her to come to you and want you to hold her. You wanted her to come to you, to cry into your arms and make you hold her like a child.
Like the girl who never had a father.
And this is hard. And it takes time. And eventually, you realise, there is no blame.
And eventually you realise that all you've gone through, you realise how young you really are.
And eventually you realise how weak you really feel.
And it's not because you are weak. It's not that. It's because you feel weak.
And eventually, eventually, you start trying to convince yourself you're strong.
You are so strong.
You've been through so much.
You are NOT going to listen to that voice.
It is not your fault.
It is NOT your fault.
IT IS NOT YOUR FAULT.
And eventually, you don't even have to try anymore.
And eventually, it's so easy to tell yourself you're strong.
And you tell yourself so often it's sinking in.
And it's not because you tell yourself you're strong that makes you strong.
It's because you ARE strong.
It's because you ARE strong. And you have been all this time. Maybe you haven't seen more than most. Maybe you have.
Maybe you've been through so much. Maybe you haven't.
But you've gone through it ALL.
You've gone through so much. And you've been strong every simple step of that way.
And sometimes you found it hard to believe. And sometimes you thought you were pathetic.
And sometimes you thought you just weren't worthy. You thought you were needy. But you just needed time.
You needed the time to realise that you don't need anything but yourself.
And then the dream is real.
And then the dream is so damn real.
And then you find yourself sitting at the side of the bed, all over again.
And you're holding her hand again.
And this time, you're not letting her make you comfort her. You're not going to let her fall into that. Because she'll feel pathetic.
And you're not going to let yourself fall into that either. You'll truly believe that just because somebody wants you to give them confidence, that they love you.
In the end, she'll think you love her more. In the end, she'll think that you only love her for her strength, because perhaps that's what you just can't show.
And you'll look her in the eyes.
And you'll grip her hand.
And you'll say, you'll feed it into her mind, you'll say it so loudly that her soul will lift out of her body and lift her heart on high.
And you'll tell her she's beautiful.
And she'll tell you she knows.
It was always sketchy. As with all dreams, it wasn't the plot that mattered, but the feeling. The way things were to you, it was all about the emotion.
Something that made you happy. Something that made you sad.
Something that made you want to cut your throat. Something that made you want to rip the skin off your body and let the cold air bite at your bare nerves.
And it was always about comfort. Well, at first. The whole dream was a comfort. The dream wanted to make you feel warm. It wanted to make you feel as if you didn't have a care in the world.
The dream of a wooden ranch, up in the mountains. It was where we had the world to ourselves.
And as we felt the warmth of the fire against our naked bodies, curled up together on the big white fluffy rug that wrapped itself around us... we watched the snow fall outside. We watched the stars in the night sky, the snow lit up by the faint lights outside out door.
The beauty of the world all in one room. Happiness forever, it seemed, simply by the thought and the dream.
And our eyes were each others, and our hearts were each others. The whole world darted around us and we didn't even feel a breeze.
And maybe we'd end up making love. And maybe we'd fall asleep, right there, together, wrapped around each other. Thinking of how much we went through. How much we've been through. How much more we had to go through.
But it was just the dream. It was just a dream.
And then it'd skip. Like some record. You knew something had happened between those two parts but at that moment, at that precise moment there was nothing more important than what was happening there and then.
And along came a spider and sat down beside her, and frightened Miss Muffet away...
Running through a hospital. She'd been taken in. You'd been messaged to say she'd been taken in but you can't even remember that far back. Not at the moment.
You can't even feel your pulse. Algebra is non-existant. There are people dying every second. With every step you take another person just died. But you're not thinking about that.
You're thinking about her. You're worried absolutely sick that she's ok.
And then you're being held back by doctors. And then you're shouting. And then, sooner or later, past what seems like hours, what seems like your whole life, you're sitting next to her.
And you're sitting next to her and she's holding your hand. And she's squeezing you so hard and you're squeezing back.
And you've forgotten completely what cut grass smells like. You haven't a clue what the moon looks like in a cloudless sky over the mountains back where you lived.
All that matters is now. And that's why, later, you'll think it was just a dream.
And you hold her hand. And she shouts at you and you squeeze her hand and tell her to be strong. You look her in the eye with all your strength and you TELL her to be strong. You TELL her that she's about to go through the most beautiful of experiences on this planet and you TELL her she NEEDS to be strong. She NEEDS that strength. You TELL her to shut right up. You TELL her that she's going to give birth, and that's what matters right now. Nothing else.
And you've taken so long to realise that. And you've taken so damn long to realise that you love her so much that you have this deep down need to give her all the strength in the world.
And at first you don't know how to do that. At first you think perhaps you should just comfort her. At first you think perhaps what women need, in all, is a man to tell her she's beautiful time and time again. Someone who can beat down that paranoia that is going to rise time and time again in her soul.
And that goes on for a while. And sooner or later it wears thin. And sooner or later you find that you've become dependent.
And you realise it. And one day, you tell her she needs to stand on her own.
And she starts to.
You love her so much that you need to take her hand and squeeze it so hard until she squeezes back. And you will kick her, you will kick her so damn hard until she can stand this on her own.
Because there was another dream.
There was this dream, which quickly became a nightmare.
Because at some stage you forgot what strength was. And as you watched her give birth, and as you couldn't give her strength, you watched as this baby was born. And you watched as she ripped the baby from her, tore at it.
You watched as she pulled the baby in two. You watched as she ripped it's head off, and threw it as hard as she could at the wall.
And you had no strength. You just watched.
And you just watched as she slammed the baby into the wall. You watched as the lifeless body slipped down the side of the wall, the blood and life of the soul dripping down onto the floor.
And the nightmare continued.
And it just went on.
And at first you wanted to blame her. Firstly you wanted to ask her WHY? Why did you take the beauty? Why did you destroy all we had created?
And that passes. Because you realise it wasn't true.
She didn't destroy a thing.
And then you blame yourself. You blame all you've done. You blame the 'way you are'.
You blame all you've done to be wrong. You realise that you had no right to be that father. You had no right. You trapped her. You tried to make her reliant. You wanted her to come to you and want you to hold her. You wanted her to come to you, to cry into your arms and make you hold her like a child.
Like the girl who never had a father.
And this is hard. And it takes time. And eventually, you realise, there is no blame.
And eventually you realise that all you've gone through, you realise how young you really are.
And eventually you realise how weak you really feel.
And it's not because you are weak. It's not that. It's because you feel weak.
And eventually, eventually, you start trying to convince yourself you're strong.
You are so strong.
You've been through so much.
You are NOT going to listen to that voice.
It is not your fault.
It is NOT your fault.
IT IS NOT YOUR FAULT.
And eventually, you don't even have to try anymore.
And eventually, it's so easy to tell yourself you're strong.
And you tell yourself so often it's sinking in.
And it's not because you tell yourself you're strong that makes you strong.
It's because you ARE strong.
It's because you ARE strong. And you have been all this time. Maybe you haven't seen more than most. Maybe you have.
Maybe you've been through so much. Maybe you haven't.
But you've gone through it ALL.
You've gone through so much. And you've been strong every simple step of that way.
And sometimes you found it hard to believe. And sometimes you thought you were pathetic.
And sometimes you thought you just weren't worthy. You thought you were needy. But you just needed time.
You needed the time to realise that you don't need anything but yourself.
And then the dream is real.
And then the dream is so damn real.
And then you find yourself sitting at the side of the bed, all over again.
And you're holding her hand again.
And this time, you're not letting her make you comfort her. You're not going to let her fall into that. Because she'll feel pathetic.
And you're not going to let yourself fall into that either. You'll truly believe that just because somebody wants you to give them confidence, that they love you.
In the end, she'll think you love her more. In the end, she'll think that you only love her for her strength, because perhaps that's what you just can't show.
And you'll look her in the eyes.
And you'll grip her hand.
And you'll say, you'll feed it into her mind, you'll say it so loudly that her soul will lift out of her body and lift her heart on high.
And you'll tell her she's beautiful.
And she'll tell you she knows.