Anna Nalick - Breathe (2AM)

Death ends the life of a relationship.

 

Dishonesty and betrayal ends the truth of a relationship.

 

Hope to redeem yourself of all the wrongs you have committed,

But rely not on the belief that things will go back to the way they were.

 

But try, with all you have, to fix it.

 

 

Pioneers - Tunng/Bloc Party. 

 

 

Swaying leaves in the fragrant air of a monsoon morning
This way and that, they oscillate repeatedly to consider
Stationary should we stay, or should we one direction choose?
When the rain has gone away, and the cold is calling for surrender
Lifeless but real, are the days that have gone by
There is more truth in them that one can hope to defy
Playing her part as best she can, she cries in her cocoon
Looking winter in his face, upon the demise of June.

 

A stunted summer spent in preparation of the cold months ahead
Feels like time faking illness solely to be nestled in the arms of fate
Placebos and rainbows, do not exist and cannot help you hide
You love him and you will be broken, this is truth you cannot evade 
Stay, with me, for me - thoughts unsaid, silent strength overshadows emotion
Safe, happy, secure - feelings fought, determinant defiance underlies insecurity
Loving him is the cause of relentless uncertainty
Living in denial is her source of emotionless immortality.

 

Amaranthine she seeks to be - in this fabled desire she yearns
He will turn away from her - in this complete impossibility she burns

So take into her own hands the fate of the future does she

Destruction is the sole solution that will determine what is meant to be

Inevitable is their separation and distance, she knows

Irreparable is the harm from infidelity, which she causes

All is now bleak and cold, just as winter should be

Satisfied and alone she feels, just as she wanted to feel.

 

Immortality may be reserved for the nobility

But one can fake timelessness with ingenuity

Interrupting fate;

Supplanting love with hate

In remaining cold and unfeeling,

Lies the secret to not dying. 

Indestructible she feels,
Amaranthine she is.

So you are leaving...

And I await the night you board that plane...

So once and for all I know you are gone.

And I can be where I want to be, doing what I want to do, without you on my mind. 

 

I can wake up every morning and not check my message inbox to be sure you got home safe

I can go through my day without waiting for you to wake up and call me so we can exchange our days

I will not have to shamelessly acknowledge that despite my workload and responsibilities, through my long hours and stressful deadlines, it is you who fill my every thought

When I go to the gym and check myself out in the mirrors, I will not hear your voice taunting my vanity

When I shop for that gorgeous white dress I will not have to think about when to wear it for you

While dancing to Ivan's latest house, I will not try to learn the lyrics correctly

And when I get home smashed out of my head, I will not call to tell how much I missed you by my side

I will not wait for the weekend or the first sign of you calling in sick

I will not make a mental note of every interesting bit of conversation or every beautiful woman I noticed 

Cayennes will pass me by and I will not squeal, raceday will come and go and I will not know who won

No more descriptive tales of drunken nights or family sagas, no more reliving the days gone by

 

But I will miss you...

Without you here, I will miss you.

Without you on my mind, I will want you back.

 

 

 

 

I am a child of nomads.  Well, that is not entirely true.  I inhabit one of the fastest growing cities in one of the fastest growing countries in the world and my life is far from that led by a wandering tribe.  But the similarity between me and a child born into a nomadic tribe is that I constantly move.  I have moved homes a total of 18 times (I just realised I ran out of fingers to count the number of homes I have had!!).  I have moved homes, cities, countries even.  And with each move, I think I tend to get a little more bitter.  Don’t get me wrong, I am not averse to change of environment, space and people.  I absolutely love losing old friends and being forced to make new ones, it is such an awesome challenge!  Makes me realise why I am commitment phobic.

I remember every single move.  Whether it was leaving the first floor house where I learnt to ride a bike and crashed into the gate after staying on the seat for a total of 5 seconds or the gorgeous 4000 square foot of space where I lost my heart (and a lot else) to my high-school boyfriend.  I remember every home, however temporary the stay.  There was the bathroom where I shared my first smoke, with my mirror and the bathtub when I first watched drops of red flow out of my wrists, fascinated by the mixed sensation of seeing beauty and feeling pain. There was the house that housed my own “penthouse” and the home with a Romeo and Juliet-esque balcony.  There was the house where I last saw my brother, the last place where we were an entire family.  Then, there was my first home away from home, in a foreign country, with a foreign love.  There were so many.  There is so much more attached to each of them…memories, images, moments.  All safely stored in my brain and within each of their walls.

I don’t know what it is about a place that can bind someone to it.  I mean, after all, what is a house?  How can one be so bound by walls made of concrete and covered in paint?  How can a bed of wood hold within its confines some of the warmest memories ever experienced?  How can a dining table that has fed all of my friends and lovers mean more to me than they do today?  How can the little imaginary tree-house that was housed in the loft above my cupboard, where I believed that if I donned my favourite monkey cap and wrote endless rubbish, I would transform into one of the most famous writers of all time, be the one place I still I wish I had to run to when all is not right in my life?

I guess it isn’t all about the space.  Or the craftsmanship and comfort of the furniture.  Or the neigbourhood and the amount of sunshine coming into the windows.  It is who you meet in that house, who you coyly toss your head for when you prance down the streets, who you passionately kiss under the tree that hides you from your possessive brother’s sight, and who you fall back in love with on a rainy afternoon when your mother is asleep.  These are those you cannot ever forget, no matter how hard you try.  So how many times you may move, they move with you.

Or so I believe.

But, what happens when you are left behind?  The first sign of someone leaving tears you apart.

What happens when moving becomes so much a part of your existence that staying in one place becomes impossible?  You are constantly on the lookout for the first ticket out of where you are.

What happens then?  I don’t quite know yet.

But I do know this - I hope I am freed from the clutches of my nomadic nature someday. I hope I do find a home someday.  And I hope this home teaches me what none of the others have - how to love one thing and hold onto it, and never leave it.

Gaze ahead to find, dank vastness unrefined
Familiar faces are fading, warmth and ice are places trading
Home is now alien ground, lovers are nowhere to be found
Those that were have gone ahead, those that remain are coarse to tread
Want and desire have been replaced, necessity and desperation have them displaced
You and me and us and we, all have left in separate boats and fled by sea

Doors have closed, lives have ended

The clock has stopped, but time has not relented
I remain, or is it me? I do not know in reference to whom I speak
The one that was has gone I know, the one who stays has yet to choose what to show
She has had so many before, she has forgotten how many she has shown
She only hopes in this mixing of hues, still remains the one he knew.

When all around you is all you are running away from, be it the place you loathe more than yourself, or the space of happiness you found refuge in...

Then you know it is all slowly nearing its end.

Everything, everyone, is slowly disappearing...

From sight, from vision, from frame of mind...
Your other half believes her life has failed her and she has failed herself
The man you love does not know what he is worth or what he can be  
The one you find solace in is wrong for you and destructive to your way of life
The ones you rely on fall beneath you because their reliance on you is greater

 

You know it is all ending
You know it will all soon be over
You know that your life as you knew it, your world as you saw it, the people you love, have all left the building...
And you wander the white corridors searching for the door...

To exit this emptiness...

To hide your loneliness...

To live despite the nothingness...