i'm a girl who's been blessed with a beautiful family
i'm a girl who's been doubly blessed with beautiful friends
i'm inherently me, flaws and all
but to the people who have come into my life at one point or another
who have given so much of themselves
there is no one more precious to me
nicole : "victory of the people"
Wednesday, June 04, 2014
a hole the size of my heart
You know what, I'm just going to come right out and say it:
Losing a baby is just so tough, no matter which stage of pregnancy you're in.
We blame ourselves, we blame God, we blame our environment. But the fact of the matter is, no matter who or what or where you lay blame, it doesn't ever change the fact that the little life that was growing inside you, is no more.
One month on and every day I still hide behind the over-zealous jokes, the wide cheery smile and the ever-essential "I'm much better now". It's expected of you not to dwell. It's expected of you to be strong. It's expected of you to carry on living. Expectations weigh so heavily on the shoulders that just want to lay on the cusp of my pillow, and not leave the room.
Sometimes I just feel like crying, for no coherent reason. It's as if this frequent presentation of tears could fill the empty vacuum that is my womb. Sadness overwhelms me to the point that my heart physically clenches and I fail miserably to keep myself from disintegrating.
Most days, I throw myself into work, into personal projects to distract the mind and keep the emotions at bay.
"We can always try again" is the mantra that I pump through my brain; a little inner voice is then quick to validate "Yes, you're not the only one, so many others have gone through this and look! Now they have 2 kids, 3 kids...".
Though, it really doesn't make me feel better to hear that more women have felt this same piercing pain, this overwhelming emptiness and this crippling hopelessness.
After all, hope is the only reason to live, really. And I desperately want to grasp that hope again soon.
And although I will never forget my little one who was lost, to fill the space in my heart that is next to hers is all I ask for, if nothing else in this lifetime.
June 4th, 2014
niq flicked her tail at 11:03 AM
Tuesday, October 31, 2006
the prisons of our lives
"Prisons are the temples where devils learn to prey. Every time we turn the key we twist the knife of fate, because every time we cage a man we close him in with hate."
- 'Shantaram', Gregory David Roberts
niq flicked her tail at 4:22 PM
Wednesday, October 11, 2006
the lion tamer
pic is courtesy of my ingenious sisterwho's now quite a whizz at photoshop! haha... thank you, dear, for the dita von teese map! 'tis a lovely effort! wish i could've been there to celebrate your 20th in melbourne, but no worries, we'll go out when you come back! (or if i can make it there to visit) i miss you and love you always. take care!
niq flicked her tail at 2:50 AM
Sunday, October 08, 2006
and so, one year older, one year wiser; i'm sure, deep down, we really do learn. help me to see the good in people more clearly; to discern the bad more thoroughly; and may all my shades of grey turn into rainbows of black and white.
niq flicked her tail at 4:40 AM
Friday, October 06, 2006
Reason is our soul's left hand, faith her right; By these we reach divinity.
"What is it? My dear?" "Ah, how can we bear it?" "Bear what?" "This. For so short a time. How can we sleep this time away?" "We can be quiet together, and pretend - since it is only the beginning - that we have all the time in the world." "And everyday we shall have less. And then none." "Would you rather, therefore, have had nothing at all?" "No. This is where I have always been coming to. Since my time began. And when I go away from here, this will be the mid-point, to which everything ran, before, and from which everything will run. But now, my love, we are here, we are now, and those other times are running elsewhere."
--A. S. Byatt, Possession
niq flicked her tail at 2:01 AM
Thursday, September 14, 2006
we only write when we're unhappy or upset, when life gets us down and doesn't live up to all we expect of it. tell me when you're full of joy, when something has driven you ecstatic - someone asked me once. i can't. i write because i am discontent and that discontent pushes the buttons in me. i can only produce beautiful words from intense poignancy.
my dissertation springs from an eternal well of unrequitted love.
"Love me," she said. "I do." "For real?" she asked. "For always." he replied.
niq flicked her tail at 11:27 PM
Saturday, September 09, 2006
had we but world enough
Had we but world enough, and time, This coyness, lady, were no crime. We would sit down and think which way To walk, and pass our long love's day; Thou by the Indian Ganges' side Shouldst rubies find; I by the tide Of Humber would complain. I would Love you ten years before the Flood; And you should, if you please, refuse Till the conversion of the Jews. My vegetable love should grow Vaster than empires, and more slow. An hundred years should go to praise Thine eyes, and on thy forehead gaze; Two hundred to adore each breast, But thirty thousand to the rest; An age at least to every part, And the last age should show your heart. For, lady, you deserve this state, Nor would I love at lower rate.
But at my back I always hear Time's winged chariot hurrying near; And yonder all before us lie Deserts of vast eternity. Thy beauty shall no more be found, Nor, in thy marble vault, shall sound My echoing song; then worms shall try That long preserv'd virginity, And your quaint honour turn to dust, And into ashes all my lust. The grave's a fine and private place, But none I think do there embrace.
Now therefore, while the youthful hue Sits on thy skin like morning dew, And while thy willing soul transpires At every pore with instant fires, Now let us sport us while we may; And now, like am'rous birds of prey, Rather at once our time devour, Than languish in his slow-chapp'd power. Let us roll all our strength, and all Our sweetness, up into one ball; And tear our pleasures with rough strife Thorough the iron gates of life. Thus, though we cannot make our sun Stand still, yet we will make him run.
we are one-winged angels
learning to fly
with balance of moments
in bright blue sky
will our wings eventual
sprout out to flee
when minds are unabashed
spread wide and free
why hearts abound spin
and stars do burn
whether sand doth slip
to fathoms churn
which is heaven on earth
gives soul to birth
where lays upon the hearth
our loud jarring mirth