Viewing a Self Destruction

Scientists believe that we will have functional robots by 2020. This means that after years of prototyping and difficult algorithms trying to be so exactly precisely correct, there will be a final product. To build a this final project, you need equipments, materials, and labourers. If a robot is built incorrectly, it will be discarded or recycled to make a new one. If a robot cannot be fixed, then someone will try to make it again.
However, there’s also the possibility of a faulty robot. Perfectly perfect until one day a crash, bang, beep, or boop happens.
The robot begins to shut itself down. The blinking lights and everything else are still on show, slowly fading. The walking gets slower, the commands get slower and the insides are self destructing.
There is no pain.
No vomiting.
No change of colour.
No change of mood.
No sudden damage.
Engineers are on autopilot when a faulty robot occurs. They are almost so used to it that it almost has no effect on them anymore. There are so many variations of the same problem to them, but it can usually be narrowed down to a specific fault. Engineers fix what they can, and hope the problem doesn’t get worse. They can only help as much as possible.
They don’t have the magic to make it better.
When I think about this I envy the robots. We don’t have a solution when a fault occurs.
We just have to watch the slow decline of a body shutting down.


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Waving hello again

The only time I ever experienced peace
Was in the sun and the rain
At the darkest night and the brightest morning
In a haven large enough to share with the world
That I took advantage of
Until it took advantage of me

A toxic relationship is an easy comparison
With all my trust over all my years
Broken in one decision making me feel empty
Creating a panic inside me if I dare to think too much
Breath In Breath Out
Control that I never appreciated before

The feeling of betrayal is haunting
Making me second guess
If I was just lucky all those years
If I was just lied to
If I was the one who was wrong

However I’m always lured back
By happy memories
Familiar feelings
My broken heart is finally beginning to mend
The excitement of the sea now brings a rush
I think I’m ready to go back


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The First August

This is the first August in five years that I’m not going to spend in Continental Europe

The first August I’m not packing my bags
The first August I’m not getting my camera ready
The first August I’m not excited to see everyone
The first August I’m not flying to the sun
The first August I’m not going to feel the warm air hit
The first August I’m not arriving in a new place
The first August I’m not reading by the pool
The first August I’m not discovering new cuisine
The first August I’m not drinking by the campfire
The first August I’m not having midnight barbecues
The first August I’m not begging for anyone to pose for pictures
The first August I’m not arguing over who does the washing up
The first August I’m not sending postcards
The first August I’m not sharing stories
The first August I’m not laughing until I can’t breathe
The first August I’m not coming back with new stories

The first August I’m not with him

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Sinking Ship

The worst kind of feeling is the sinking stomach
As if the weight of the world has crashed in
Flushed face, tensed body
I got this feeling recently and for a split second I remembered everything that ever made me feel this way
This time I said something to someone
It wasn’t bad what I said – it was the fact I said anything at all
It wasn’t my fault I got an awful response – it wasn’t replying directly to me to be a personal hit
It was part of something much bigger that neither of us was apart of
Nevertheless on obligatory opposite sides
But it still hurt
And for that spilt second the sinking feeling hurt internally more than what the reply actually said
It’s embarrassment
It’s shame
It’s guilt
It’s humiliation
It’s over thinking
It’s everything I want to avoid
For that split second I blamed everyone else
After that I calmed myself down
It wasn’t anyone’s fault except for the person who replied to me
Who probably thinks they’re being loyal
I don’t want to dwell but I forget how naive I am
It brought me back to the 14 year old me who tried to fit in and was inevitably crushed
14 year old me learned how to filter out people who crushed me
I take this experience as a lesson
To appreciate my friends and family
If I took it negatively, they’d win


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Searching for the Sun


Joy found herself in a slump but, not in the usual way.
Everyone has their down days, and this isn’t something she’s alien to.
This time it was different.
It wasn’t the usual sad cry over a puppy or worrying about something blown out of proportion. For those situations Joy is prepared. She has her happy playlist of songs. She has saved videos on YouTube that inspire her. She has her creativity as an outlet. She has people to share with and support. Joy is completely aware of all these things.
Yet, this time it was different for Joy.
It was different because she didn’t want to listen to the songs or watch the videos or talk to anyone. She wanted to remain sad, which scared her.
She did the opposite of what she usually does. She listened to sad music and watched sad videos, stopped engaging online and faded out of her social groups.
She doesn’t know why.
I don’t know why.
I don’t know what has caused the different hormones and stress levels and chemicals to react the way they have to create someone I don’t recognise.
I’m scared that I’ll remain this way.
But I’m even more scared that I’ll want to remain this way.

Title Needed

What will make words
Run and jump from my brain
Into a story
That is unique and insane
Ending with a shocking twist
Remaining forever in the minds
Something that lingers or will be missed

But words don’t work that way
Locked out of my creative mind
On a day my brain
Can’t think about anything else but


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A Different Type of Sad

It’s a weird feeling to be alone
After 7 days with a thousand friends
And 6 nights with seven sisters
The present silence is not there because a curfew is enforced
To a room with people who have so much to say to each other
The silence is now there because no one else is
It’s strange to think I’d switch my “luxury” double bed
For a single bottom bunk
In a room filled with spiders and bugs
Smelling like pot noodle and perfume
With clothes and things sprawled out everywhere like an obstacle course
But without any doubt I’d trade everything
If it would bring me back to the stars
Where I found a type of comfort I’ve never experienced
Rather than being here
Aimlessly looking at the stick on stars that dull in time
My soul was opened and shared in the place where it felt most at ease
To new people I felt vunerable with
I felt a different type of sad this year
There were no explosive tears or desperate promises like the times before
It was just a week full of raw, exposed emotion
Where no one wanted for anything
But everyone still gave all they had
It’s the type of sad I don’t want to be poetic about
It means too much to me


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Eye Spy

Sometimes I look into my own eyes
Wondering what someone else sees
Eyes are said to be a gateway to the soul
But demons can hide there too
A blink causes a different emotion

No one else knows the difference to my fake smile
My eyes are the only ones I can’t fool
Even if you tried to try
Your eyes know what losing the last glimmer of hope looks like
They can spot sadness over tiredness
They know the difference

Show me something new they say
As they’ve already seen everything
From the bright white wall when you first open your eyes
To the darkness that engulfs you when you close for the last time
Everything in between is just a grey blur

Sometimes I look into my own eyes
Just to try and find my story


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I am not a character in one of your books

I am not a character in one of your books
My thoughts cannot be written down for you to control
You cannot lose interest
Or just pick up from where you left off
Stop trying to manipulate the story
Without considering all sides
Do not dehumanise me
I have no vengeful past you can blame
I have no definite future you can create
My hard stare appearance does not reflect me at all
I am not the character you built me up to be
There is no control over me like control over a character
Made up and already planned out
Stop shortening my dialogue to make room from your thoughts
Do not reflect or pin point things I have said
While justifying your own mistakes
Just because you remember more of my story line
Stop trying to jump ahead to the ending
To peak to see if you were victorious
The real world doesn’t work that way
I am not a character in one of your books


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