Thank you! - Video

Hey guys!

This post is just to say thank you to everyone that reads this blog and also to everyone that gives me feed back on my pieces. Every comment gives me a new out look on my writing and honestly makes my day. So thank you guys!

The dream at the moment is that I do for you, what other writers have done for me, which is to write a story or poem so sincere and relatable that it feels like your emotions have been converted to words. If I have done that at any point, my dreams are slowly coming true :)

Below, is a link to a video I made to show my appreciation. I have many more screen shots in my collection but these are the only ones I could find right away. Please let me know if you cannot access the video.

Have a great weekend!

Love,
Mensu.

https://vimeo.com/106016654

Morning After.

It was the morning after.
We sat opposite each other in the room.
My mother and I.
Me on the bed, while she, was on the couch...

"I feel the need to physically rest my head on someone. This is too much for me. C-Can I.. Can you please sit next to me?"

She shook her head before saying,
"No."

"No?"

"No... Because days will come when you will feel this way, worse. And no one will be there to offer a shoulder. And it will consume you, and you will feel the burning desire to run from the world. From yourself. And if you do not learn now, you will indeed run. So, no. I will not sit next to you."

We stared at each other. My eyes hardly making out her features.

"Cry." She said.

I do not respond.

"Cry. Your eyes look like they are made of glass."
"..."
"There is a strength you are trying to find. It doesn't lie in the toughness of your face or the distance in your eyes. It lies in your weakness, in sinking to the floor and letting the beauty of your brokenness fix you. So my daughter, If you feel need to cry, if your heart is heavy, do not hold it back. Cry."

It was the first time I had cried about you.
It was silent then loud.
Painful then freeing.

Like unlocking a cage I had built for myself.
They say the worst kind of battles, are the ones we fight against ourselves.



Inspired by:
Kintsukuroi
(n.) (v. phr.) "to repair with gold"; the art of repairing pottery with gold or silver lacquer and understanding that the piece is more beautiful for having been broken.

...

Looking at her eyes, you could tell she wasn't there.
She had travelled to another world and left a body behind.

I had stared at her across the restaurant table all through the night.
Curious about who she was before it all happened.
Wishing that if I looked at her long enough, the rhythm of my heartbeat will bring her soul back to life.