elsiepelsie

Gebruikersnaam elsiepelsie

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Over elsiepelsie

I write to free the imaginary from myself

Teksten

Caladan

I wanted to let my thoughts soak in yours before the broken glass in your eyes cut me in pieces. Who are you not to understand me? An idea unreciprocated with intention. I lost by my own devices.

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Free-fall

A freedom I had long forgotten both made me ecstatic and fear for my life. I was released into the wild without a warning. The forest breathed a sigh of relief, welcoming any new visitor indiscriminately.  Light tinted green sifted through the treetops.  There was no way to retrace my steps as nothing was left standing from where I used to come. In a world where animals could speak, I had no authority. Their breath held in an expectantly waited for me to take the first wrong turn. Power was accorded strength, violence rewarded with violence. Years of domestication had made me prey in their kingdom. Water and food were my highest priority, but hunting meant being hunted. I would have to run forever, and I had already run forever. I resigned to walk and listened for the sound of water blending with the wind. Not far off, a stream of veins flowed into a river. I yearned to bathe and forgot to drink until I sullied the water with my body. Cleanliness was an absurdity that I afforded myself as a luxury. I felt watched by benevolent eyes from above. Birds perched to behold my bath as I had done with similar condescendance. Surviving on the lowest hanging fruit, I started to forget of the sweetness in the trees I could not reach. Light green became dark green before I knew it, the cold settled in my bones and the silence of the woods interrupted with occasional hoots after nightfall. By the next morning, I stood on the edge of an open grass field. I wanted to run and catch the sun, but the fear of preying eyes kept me in the dark for another day to live.  The morrow, I watched my first hunting game. The body left bare was abandoned, its wounds bled into dirt to be reclaimed. For all the cruelty I had to bear as an insignia of humanity, the deer's rotting carcass was most composed in its decomposition. I was the last one they said. I was the lost one because I was the worst one. Redemption would be the end as this place let me live without pardon. In the days to come, I wandered and wondered of the irony through which faith kept me alive. Justice was done for, only a mind game I played  before sleeping.  Dew drips drops down the leaves crowned trees.  I was proclaimed innocent by the rain that washed away the blood stains on my hands.  The search for meaning outpaced the search for food. I struck in hunger against nature. Unyielding, it left me for dead, so I turned around and ate her. My sweet revenge rewarded with her Triumphant indifference.

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Caladan

I wanted to let my thoughts soak in yours before the broken glass in your eyes cut me in pieces. Who are you not to understand me? An idea unreciprocated with intention. I lost by my own devices.

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3 0

03:45

Nightmares overtake the waking ones  as raindrops on the roof blend with the quiet,  reminiscent of last year’s insomnia.  

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10 May 2024

Paper lanterns in her honour, am I haunted by her ghost because of our resemblance? Drowning in fatigue from being mindless, I could walk until my feet bleed, guilt seeping into my pores with the sun. I am scared of hearing my thoughts on what I have become.  I'm not sure what is missing and what will be complete if an unspoken promise may be fulfilled. I think I will always have to deal with the aftermath of being unwanted, it is insidious and has trickled like poison into my psyche.   I never found that I was worthy of the chances given to me, nothing resonated with the lack of esteem I hold of myself. It is dangerous to live without a purpose, let alone the feeling of worthiness for being alive. This year different, I look to the future as a possibility, albeit daunting, rather than a punishment for having lived until now.   

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10 May 2002

I can barely believe when I say I am writing this, a year from when I remember last writing and feeling the way that I did before I turned a year younger than I am now. The issues were similar, at a different level of gravity, and they manifested in a way unlike they do this year. I'm still riding upwards waves, and I'm still trying to drown myself in things which make me neglect myself. I repeat the same things over and over again, here and elsewhere.  Recently I fell sick and celebrated the consequences. I now mourn recovery in a forever search for meaning. My insides are melting for a void to settle. No more than an empty music box, an image bound to fade with time.  Nonetheless, I wish you a happy birthday and for you to remember this day only being an example of the many days that have been and the many days to come.

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Family Portrait

La destruction sans scrupule d'une âme remplie de bonneté ne peut pas se justifier par un traumatisme qu'on a vecu dans son passé.  Once upon a time, there was a Queen in a kingdom unknown. For her beauty admired wide and far; she had become her subject's object of affection. But ignoring their existence, she subsisted on games and rendered them breadless. Villages and cities fell into destitution by her negligence. Yet, starving to death, they died honouring her image. Close to her, were a knight and court jester. The knight, only known as the Queen’s, refused to be ordained by anyone but she. He had given himself completely, hoping to find love in broken bones. Unrequited love had rendered her loving knight a cripple. Dedicated to tragedy, he died a lonely death.  Her Majesty had sustained herself on awaiting a king to her unknown. She sought in him a saviour to forget the world awaiting her. For without him in her stead, had lost the will to shine. Consumed by loneliness, she was overtaken by her shadow.  On a makeshift throne, she lamented an absence, leaving her empty. The pursuit of a beloved in vain, opportunism in courtship had left her exasperated. Loveless romance surrounded her, while she sat alone. Besides her, sat the jester, desperately at her mercy. Redundancy of pleasure rendered him meaningless to the Queen. Her laugh only ringing at other's misfortune, he sought to destroy himself. Loved by all, he fell prey to her abuse. The court jester, once beloved by the Her Majesty, now a fool. Erased from her conscience, their deaths fell into oblivion. 

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The Church of Our Lady

I pour my chalice  In this empty vessel. And pray in her stead, Seeking solace in divinity,    Sorrow sung through silence of a loss untold in his absence.

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Wasabi Orangeri Café

Aimless in my intention, I walk with the wind.  Drops of blood rain from my hands. Crying in the shape of his grief.

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Alexander

For the moon awaiting her company,  she runs with the sun before nightfall as he watches her luminescent form. Covered by the stardust of his story,  He seeks solace in her shine.  

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Paper Lanterns

A promise of blissful ignorance fulfilled, tears spilt over a form frozen in time.  Winter before my time, wilted by my own will,  I am one with the flowers on my grave.

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Chih et Moi

The book we both hold tells the same story by a language apart. It melts away in their hands, like the snow we'll never see.  Can to can, connected by a rope, silent conversations fall on deaf ears. The act of mimes without masks, only for each other to behold.

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Taiwan March 2023

The night before I left, heavy rainfall had replaced the dry heat. I stayed awake to the sound of pelting rain mixing with his breathing over the phone.  Our last goodbyes had never coincided with my time of departure.  Short for tears, I poured what I had left in a letter addressed to him. This dragon year to come, I would watch him perform by the red strings of fortune. A black notebook left empty awaiting his beloved. The shield of tradition had braved my attacks. I surrendered.

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Snowstorm

In the eye of a silent storm, contradictions melt away.  White on white made bloom roses on her cheeks, unspoken promises blew through an invisible labyrinth.  The snowfall outran their steps.

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Taiwan 25 March 2023

A tiny window could barely indicate what time it was by the lack of sunlight streaming in. Darkness had been an issue from the moment she had entered the room. At her desk, a ring of light coming from a small mirror illuminated her face. It looked paler at night, eyes haunted by words left unsaid. Sentences slithered from her head to her hands and crawled over the notebook on her lap. Writing in layers and layers in writing. Nothing was meant to be written as it was. The reader only reads what he seeks, the writer writes for his eyes only. 

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5 1

Camelia

Smiling eyes over our masks, we hugged each other midway. 

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Wandering in Wonderland

On this desolate world, I see only myself. A road ahead paves itself where I lay my eyes. Justifying change makes all directions an inevitability. Unbreathable air, a penalty for my misdemeanours.  People tend to search for themselves in things unrelated to their circumstances. For the human mind is entrapped by its own intrigues. I, too, found myself in others through the mirror of my own gaze, if not the reflections of a detail. We read into them like we do ourselves, as we speak to ourselves when we face another. Yet, oblivious to most, we remain unaffected by humanity calling out the humane from under our skin. Seeking one's depth by the means of refraction only serves a reminder of existential burden. But the screen, an echo of wishes to believe in, is only a web bound to be entrapped in. Making believe one cannot live without it, ignorance maintains its illusion.  I sought myself through the hollow words of others, promises in vain, for their disinterest provided me with broken pieces. I was no one, but these fragments that I had wanted them to know. Far from finished, for the path is said to have no end. Trees replace a forest when I know only its shape by touch, as I shall walk from their depths to the closest of myself. 

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Fall

There is no honour to power, a throne but a manifestation of its curse

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Pitfalls

Nothing starts anew, preceding renewal comes betrayal. A breath away from the power they aim to surpass, they add to your piling abuses accusations of crimes they will commit tenfold. But you know all too well, that to subdue dominance with dominance, does nothing but enforce it.

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Blindspots

Under the guise of a beacon, you have led those you vowed protecting to impenetrable woods. Treetops and rustling leaves rendered fearful wanderers lost into the perpetual state of twilight. For you left them to seek a crumbling trail invisible to the naked eye, bent proudly under the weight of promises unfulfilled. The denial is glorious

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Mamie

Winter is cold, as she awaits daylight. Premonition at every step,  she wishes for her time to come.

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White Bloom

I feel the tides of time in his story.

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8 0

Free to Think

Freedom of speech is nothing without freedom of thoughts.  

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9 1

08-01-2024

The search for perfection gives no meaning to life. You would run in circles forever. When I broke through it, I fell differently. I discovered parts of me I thought buried for good. With weight gain, came self-hate, self-doubt and hopelessness. Another vicious cycle, the other side of a broken mirror.

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5 0

Deep Blue

Diving Sinking Swimming Drowning  Floating

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9 0

Human Nature

Timeless is the hatred I have witnessed on the grounds of ideas. Idyllic and idealistic in their essence, yet disastrous in their enactment. Once again, I deplore to find the debris of such occurrence at my feet.

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5 0

Jack on the Queen

I had never thought the smell of roses nauseating until I met the Queen. Her scent overtook every room she entered. Disdain at first sight, I was bound to have lost her favour by rank alone. Mother's ties to uncle were my only lifeline.

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The king's consort as told by her loving victims

Once upon a time, there was a Queen in a kingdom unknown. For her beauty admired wide and far; she had become her subject's object of affection. But ignoring their existence, she subsisted on games and rendered them breadless. Villages and cities fell into destitution by her negligence. Yet, starving to death, they died honouring her image.

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Drowning

Coffee for me as usual. Running from tiredness had made me incurably fatigued.

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Diving

Defenceless, I let her lead me in the dark. I fell for her at my own expense.

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Sinking

Short by nature, our greeting was unassuming. A bystander would not have cared to guess our relationship. It made falter my steps on the stairs to her room.

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Swimming

A notification told me her plane had landed. Unable to join her, I left her unattended. That night, I dreamt of what I imagined during the day. 

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To Yen

Emptiness in one’s soul calls for the worst kind of self-inflicted suffering. Frustrated with myself, I found refuge in obsessively shrinking my size for an ideal I could not attain. My past images and stranger’s pictures followed me from the scale to the mirror. The search for perfection gives no meaning in life. You would run in circles forever. When I broke through it, I fell differently. I discovered parts of myself I thought buried for good. With weight gain, came self-hate, self-doubt and hopelessness. Another vicious cycle, the other side of a broken mirror. My body and my mind were never one, only at nightfall they’d reunite. My consciousness and unconsciousness no different, I felt comfort in playing the victim at the mercy of myself.

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Part of Han's Letter to Thomas

I have long searched for someone's thoughts I could recognize in myself. Until now, I could find only through written words an understanding of people. Desperation at the world around me led me to seek refuge in a realm of abstractions. I, too, have often found that I lose myself in my thoughts of the world, instead of living in it. I'd rather sleep reality away. Dreams are for me a means to escape my state of mind. For when nightfall comes, my eyes open to the pain echoing inside me during the day. We are at the mercy of the world's whims, as we are of ourselves. A sense of reality sustained only by words.

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RE: On Writing and More

By now, I have gotten used to write letters left unsent. But since the content of your mail can draw out both the conscious and subconscious when getting into the depth of writing, I think I'd like to seek answers to questions otherwise unresolved. Even if I occasionally risk drowning in your sentences. 

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3 0

Their Portrait

They woke up back to back, with butterfly kisses and morning hugs.  Watching their reflection on the TV,  they sat together on that tiny couch. The towels still wet from their morning shower.

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0 0

Isabella

I traced the sun kissed skyline with my eyes. The ocean reflecting a red sheen reminded me of the blood I spilt. Isabela's image followed me into the deepest of myself, her lifeless form burned behind my eyes. This tale as old as time had befallen me during a crime of passion. It fell flat upon regaining my senses. Resolutions are silly things when you're old. When death is knocking at your door, achievements are the least of your concerns. The journey of self-denial finally coming to an end, I will await tonight's darkness to atone for my sins.

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