You Are You

There comes a point and time where you realize you’ve been quiet for three years.
You were always a good listener, but you still spoke to people.
And when you figure out that you’ve been unhealthily quiet, it isn’t something you fix right away.
It isn’t conversation that pops up easily.
It’s a lot of thought maze.

People need to talk.
They need an outlet. Even if it’s just a blog.
But they must, they must get something from whatever they are divulging in.

Sometimes people speak to drugs.
And that can be so enticing.
Because drugs can feel that they listen.
For a time they do.

Until your body is shutting down because the ears of the effect, have fallen off.
Because eventually they will.
They always do. And we don’t always know it. And sometimes we need outside influence to tell us.

Sometimes, it’s just ourselves.
That tell us, it’s all wrong.
That, listening, that unspeaking, isn’t good.

So we should probably listen to ourselves.
Even if people tell us a lot about ourselves,
we’re still learning, from the core of us,
we learn about us.

And we can know that,
but
acting on something that has felt wonderful to do,
even if it’s not morally correct,
is more difficult then it reads out.

I Stayed Quiet

We all need to write about ourselves. To use the words ‘I’ and ‘me’.
More importantly, to speak about us.
If we don’t ever say or write about ourselves, we will get in a rather tangled place.It may take years for us to notice. But it will happen.
Living abroad for the past five years has added so many eggs to the mixture. And get this, they’ve had the shell on.
Living two lives is easy when they are on either side of the world.
I would have rathered one. But I got a taste of both. And I’ve been mixing them since I was 17. I didn’t mean too. It just happened.
I spoke to friends in Canada very little about my life here in Thailand. They didn’t ask much so I didn’t tell. I’m like that.
The very few Thai friends I have, well, it’s just useless to try and explain any kind of passion or love I have for my own country and the miss that comes with it.
Over the years I have got more quiet. It’s easier that way.
But it’s done some serious damage. Now I’m in this spot and I’m like, ‘Who the hex knows me?’. Noone does.
Maybe I’ve written about myself here and there, but over time I have slid in more deeper and became more afraid with revealing the actual me to the people in my life. It got easier to hide away and when people don’t ask any questions.. well.. it’s current that I don’t even mean to be in.

I stayed quiet, let time unravel, and now the string of it is wound up tight all around me.
Writing about me helps, but it’s action that’s going to change anything.
Oh the things that living abroad does.