tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-82016679415884872502024-03-13T12:40:25.274+08:00Charis Vera'sPencil sketchings and lip crashingsCharis Verahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08028108272168638193noreply@blogger.comBlogger1834125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8201667941588487250.post-59829770006065295672022-08-20T06:30:00.001+08:002022-08-20T06:30:39.903+08:00Day One<p class="mobile-photo"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjrFxWX3JNn_VObBmdis6Mv3hVomTWnalxwNQu3WkVcgBgNLmUSGbFe8gfzeXwexpitTJUiezBsYRr-8mMlwYepB2IsNNza9xmI3aMZlLU27ISqvwHa79xRA-FpIXK11SCnM7Vk1HuFaKDcxvmubVALb6h0Ce_z1RKgF2_gI99IujQKHlHpnnt4dsKU"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjrFxWX3JNn_VObBmdis6Mv3hVomTWnalxwNQu3WkVcgBgNLmUSGbFe8gfzeXwexpitTJUiezBsYRr-8mMlwYepB2IsNNza9xmI3aMZlLU27ISqvwHa79xRA-FpIXK11SCnM7Vk1HuFaKDcxvmubVALb6h0Ce_z1RKgF2_gI99IujQKHlHpnnt4dsKU=s320" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_7133718375374057810" /></a></p><div dir="auto">In a new series we've started, recently my fav main character relapses and starts drinking again. His mates come collect him, take him home and tuck him in.<div dir="auto">They tell him, "We gotchu man, we your Day One. We here. "</div><div dir="auto">And all three friends stay, falling asleep awkwardly in chairs in the living room while he sleeps off his bender.</div><div dir="auto"><br></div><div dir="auto">I damn near cried there and said "fuck what a beautiful thing to say - they must all be in the program too!"</div><div dir="auto">(which was extra ironic cos they're dealers)</div><div dir="auto"><br></div><div dir="auto">Then the next scene had them all partying (and drinking albeit more "responsibly") together. Which confused me, and clearly Erika too, cos she went, "I guess this means they're....aaall on Day One again?"</div><div dir="auto"><br></div><div dir="auto">So OBVVY, cos we old, I went to urban dictionary thinking I'd missed something. And it's told me the obvious - that it's a commonly used phrase to indicate someone's been around for a person since day one/ day dot/ forever.</div><div dir="auto"><br></div><div dir="auto">[Side note: this is the thing with new-old phrases and urban dictionary. Phrases get misused or their origins forgotten oor more recently, phrases get used as an overstatement or understatement, which deeply confuses our parents' generation, but then the more frequently they get used (sometimes ironically), the less people using it know what it was actually supposed to mean! But I digress.] </div><div dir="auto"><br></div><div dir="auto">I personally am pretty certain the phrase holds far deeper meaning. So even if Urban Dictionary never tells you this, here's what it means to me:</div><div dir="auto"><br></div><div dir="auto">When you're in AA or NA, Day One is feckin' hard folks. It's hella scary, you're sometimes shaking and crying and not necessarily because you're withdrawing either - it's just confronting, you hate yourself and you want to tap out but clearly you've spent so much time tapping out you've now got a problem. </div><div dir="auto">It's the First Step you're taking, admitting you're powerless and walking into those rooms.</div><div dir="auto">But it can take a while, and you can have many Day Ones. </div><div dir="auto"><br></div><div dir="auto">So in the context of the program, if someone's (there for me on) my Day One, which is the first day I have not used, they're often seeing me at my lowest and my most vulnerable.</div><div dir="auto">And because Recovery is a day at a time, my sobriety today doesn't guarantee my sobriety tomorrow.</div><div dir="auto">We can lapse/relapse at any time.</div><div dir="auto">Some of us work hard to never have to do Day One again, and some of us, despite our best intentions, find ourselves doing Day One more times than we can forgive ourselves for. But the fact of the matter is, everyone else in the rooms has been there, we've all been on Day One and know how it feels.</div><div dir="auto"><br></div><div dir="auto">But Whether it's my 1st Day One ever, or my last Day One - if I'm in the safety of the rooms saying "I'm on Day One", it always feels like I'm naked in front of a crowd. Yep, especially if you've had a few Day Ones just that year after months of being clean each time. </div><div dir="auto"><br></div><div dir="auto">So if I ever say to you:</div><div dir="auto">"I'm here, I'm your Day One love "</div><div dir="auto"><br></div><div dir="auto">Just know that I only ever mean it in the only context I know;</div><div dir="auto">That I know what it feels like to be broken and vulnerable, to feel powerless and ashamed. To constantly feel like you're the Antagonist in the play, when you thought you were the Anti-Protagonist.</div><div dir="auto"><br></div><div dir="auto">But on your Day One, whilst it might feel like you're all alone, wading through the aftermath of destruction you caused whilst in addiction, know that you're not.</div><div dir="auto">And whether it's your first Day One or your last, and for all the Day Ones you might end up having, you'll never have to be alone again.</div><div dir="auto"><br></div><div dir="auto">Plus, if you stick around long enough, you'll have a Day Two.</div></div> Charis Verahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08028108272168638193noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8201667941588487250.post-70536601038045311832021-08-20T10:50:00.000+08:002021-08-20T10:51:08.680+08:00Day One<p class="mobile-photo"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-kOMEdwJ2mIg/YR8YnWkWIaI/AAAAAAAAEdQ/JjjFEvL7wiAO2v96IEQz6rZijD1EFl0FwCK4BGAYYCw/s1600/IMG20210707134523-768742.jpg"><img src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-kOMEdwJ2mIg/YR8YnWkWIaI/AAAAAAAAEdQ/JjjFEvL7wiAO2v96IEQz6rZijD1EFl0FwCK4BGAYYCw/s320/IMG20210707134523-768742.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_6998339410309030306" /></a></p><div dir="auto"><div dir="auto"><br></div><div dir="auto"><br></div>In a new series we've started, recently my fav main character relapses and starts drinking again. His mates come collect him, take him home and tuck him in.<div dir="auto">They tell him, "We gotchu man, we your Day One. We here. "</div><div dir="auto">And all three friends stay, falling asleep awkwardly in chairs in the living room while he sleeps off his bender.</div><div dir="auto"><br></div><div dir="auto">I damn near cried there and said "fuck what a beautiful thing to say - they must all be in the program too!"</div><div dir="auto">(which was extra ironic cos they're dealers)</div><div dir="auto"><br></div><div dir="auto">Then the next scene had them all partying (and drinking albeit more "responsibly") together. Which confused me, and clearly Erika too, cos she went, "I guess this means they're....aaall on Day One again?"</div><div dir="auto"><br></div><div dir="auto">So OBVVY, cos we old, I went to urban dictionary thinking I'd missed something. And it's told me the obvious - that it's a commonly used phrase to indicate someone's been around for a person since day one/ day dot/ forever.</div><div dir="auto"><br></div><div dir="auto">[Side note: this is the thing with new-old phrases and urban dictionary. Phrases get misused or their origins forgotten oor more recently, phrases get used as an overstatement or understatement, which deeply confuses our parents' generation, but then the more frequently they get used (sometimes ironically), the less people using it know what it was actually supposed to mean! But I digress.] </div><div dir="auto"><br></div><div dir="auto">I personally am pretty certain the phrase holds far deeper meaning. So even if Urban Dictionary never tells you this, here's what it means to me:</div><div dir="auto"><br></div><div dir="auto">When you're in AA or NA, Day One is feckin' hard folks. It's hella scary, you're sometimes shaking and crying and not necessarily because you're withdrawing either - it's just confronting, you hate yourself and you want to tap out but clearly you've spent so much time tapping out you've not got a problem. </div><div dir="auto">It's the First Step you're taking, admitting you're powerless and walking into those rooms.</div><div dir="auto">But it can take a while, and you can have many Day Ones. </div><div dir="auto"><br></div><div dir="auto">So in the context of the program, if someone's (there for me on) my Day One, which is the first day I have not used, they're often seeing me at my lowest and my most vulnerable.</div><div dir="auto">And because Recovery is a day at a time, my sobriety today doesn't guarantee my sobriety tomorrow.</div><div dir="auto">We can lapse/relapse at any time.</div><div dir="auto">Some of us work hard to never have to do Day One again, and some of us, despite our best intentions, find ourselves doing Day One more times than we can forgive ourselves for. But the fact of the matter is, everyone else in the rooms has been there, we've all been on Day One and know how it feels.</div><div dir="auto"><br></div><div dir="auto">But Whether it's my 1st Day One ever, or my last Day One - if I'm in the safety of the rooms saying "I'm on Day One", it always feels like I'm naked in front of a crowd. Yep, especially if you've had a few Day Ones just that year after months of being clean each time. </div><div dir="auto"><br></div><div dir="auto">So if I ever say to you:</div><div dir="auto">"I'm here, I'm your Day One love "</div><div dir="auto"><br></div><div dir="auto">Just know that I only ever mean it in the only context I know;</div><div dir="auto">That I know what it feels like to be broken and vulnerable, to feel powerless and ashamed. To constantly feel like you're actually the Antagonist in the play, when you thought you were the Anti-Protagonist.</div><div dir="auto"><br></div><div dir="auto">But on your Day One, whilst it might feel like you're all alone, wading through the aftermath of destruction you caused whilst in addiction, you are not alone.</div><div dir="auto">And whether it's your first Day One or your last, and for all the Day Ones you might end up having, you'll never have to be alone again.</div><div dir="auto"><br></div><div dir="auto">Plus, if you stick around long enough, you'll have a Day Two. </div><div dir="auto"><br></div></div> Charis Verahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08028108272168638193noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8201667941588487250.post-47839139760831294002021-08-03T12:02:00.000+08:002021-08-03T12:03:03.308+08:00<div dir="auto"> <div dir="auto"> ;</div><div dir="auto"><br></div><div dir="auto">"any reason to stay, is a good reason" </div></div> Charis Verahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08028108272168638193noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8201667941588487250.post-24402026912278881152021-05-03T14:25:00.001+08:002021-05-03T14:25:50.905+08:00It Starts With The First Step<div dir="auto">I found an old video on YouTube of a couple blokes down at the pub, on the phone, lying about where they were and why they were running so late. <div dir="auto">It was hilarious. And four years ago, I completely identified. </div><div dir="auto">That was me to à tee. <br></div><div dir="auto"><div dir="auto"><br></div><div dir="auto">Yet as hilarious as this still is, it's also incredibly alarming to think how easily and naturally we lie is situations like this.</div><div dir="auto">It's funny, but also, is it really? </div><div dir="auto"><br></div><div dir="auto">In the year of COVID the United Kingdom reported an alcohol intake increase of 500%.</div><div dir="auto"><br></div><div dir="auto">"Tips" to blow on your mug during Zoom meetings so it makes you look like you're drinking tea and not wine, or suggestions of filling your kid's sippy cup with wine in case you get pulled over whilst driving -</div><div dir="auto">If someone can't stop drinking even whilst needing to get into a car to drive, is that really healthy?</div><div dir="auto">Is it still funny when there's a child in the back seat and you swerve?</div><div dir="auto"><br></div><div dir="auto">I know the funny bits of it; I promise I have experienced it. It's hilarious and preposterous to hear about, drunken stories are the best to listen to at parties. Until you don't hear about it because the person isn't there anymore to tell it.</div><div dir="auto"><br></div><div dir="auto">I was (mostly) functional drunk. But if I couldn't imagine functioning without it, was I really, technically, functional at all?</div><div dir="auto"><br></div><div dir="auto">There must be a reason we're telling these lies;</div><div dir="auto">Drinking out of 750ml wine glass so we can say "I've only had one glass", having a White Russian that's more White than Russian so we can have 20 glasses instead, or saying "I'll be right, I'm only having Cider tonight" even though you've had a case.</div><div dir="auto">We're lying because some part of us knows something is off before we can place it.</div><div dir="auto">We're lying because some part of us is downright envious of the stranger at the party you spot nursing a Gin and Tonic the WHOLE NIGHT (and doesn't even finish it).</div><div dir="auto">We're lying because some part of us thinks that if someone else knew how much we drink, like *really* knew, they might think we have a problem when obviously we don't.</div><div dir="auto">We're lying because we think it'll be easier for us to look ourselves in the mirror the next morning, makeup smeared and wondering how we got here. </div><div dir="auto"><br></div><div dir="auto">Today, I am 17 months and 3 days sober.</div><div dir="auto">And I got here only because I took the first step, even before I knew it was a step I could take. I got here because no matter how much I tried to run, I could never outrun myself.</div><div dir="auto"><br></div><div dir="auto">I'm not talking about the occasional drinkers or the one glass a night people- because I'm not like them.</div><div dir="auto"><br></div><div dir="auto">But before the one glass a night people end up becoming a few bottles an afternoon - type drinkers, I might suggest that we need to step back from normalising lying and normalising "hacks to make people think you're drinking something other than alcohol".</div><div dir="auto"><br></div><div dir="auto">I might even suggest that perhaps it's time we start normalising, and I daresay, celebrating sobriety.</div><div dir="auto">Normalise having the courage to deal with life on life's terms.</div><div dir="auto"><br></div><div dir="auto">Celebrate being able to one day look yourself in the mirror, knowing exactly how you got there.</div><div dir="auto"><br></div><div dir="auto"><br></div></div></div> Charis Verahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08028108272168638193noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8201667941588487250.post-74125370417461299942020-10-05T11:09:00.000+08:002020-10-05T11:11:44.051+08:00The World In 2020- People taking personal offence to help being offered to a community that does not include them<p class="mobile-photo"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-LnJn0-sW-ek/X3qO8dQxA9I/AAAAAAAAEYI/3-EMswMioqg1BOfHbLwXGdoKZAzayjEZACK4BGAYYCw/s1600/IMG_20201005_134932-704082.jpg"><img src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-LnJn0-sW-ek/X3qO8dQxA9I/AAAAAAAAEYI/3-EMswMioqg1BOfHbLwXGdoKZAzayjEZACK4BGAYYCw/s320/IMG_20201005_134932-704082.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_6879968550060098514" /></a></p><p class="mobile-photo"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-l951IudBqEg/X3qO86EHyjI/AAAAAAAAEYQ/dYGkxi8EvcsJKfO1Mf4m5fMbGMAynkCagCK4BGAYYCw/s1600/IMG_20201005_134740-705938.jpg"><img src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-l951IudBqEg/X3qO86EHyjI/AAAAAAAAEYQ/dYGkxi8EvcsJKfO1Mf4m5fMbGMAynkCagCK4BGAYYCw/s320/IMG_20201005_134740-705938.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_6879968557791693362" /></a></p><p class="mobile-photo"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-IdZuC6BdCdM/X3qO9QHwjVI/AAAAAAAAEYY/FTh6-wsmhncUItQZ-LW92oR8-3vKelfegCK4BGAYYCw/s1600/IMG_20201005_135319-708330.jpg"><img src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-IdZuC6BdCdM/X3qO9QHwjVI/AAAAAAAAEYY/FTh6-wsmhncUItQZ-LW92oR8-3vKelfegCK4BGAYYCw/s320/IMG_20201005_135319-708330.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_6879968563712527698" /></a></p><p class="mobile-photo"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-dyLhD7UAlgk/X3qO9wmfcsI/AAAAAAAAEYg/qGp6snTWkzU10hiHbC5xziiwmRqraSNmACK4BGAYYCw/s1600/IMG_20201005_135239-709989.jpg"><img src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-dyLhD7UAlgk/X3qO9wmfcsI/AAAAAAAAEYg/qGp6snTWkzU10hiHbC5xziiwmRqraSNmACK4BGAYYCw/s320/IMG_20201005_135239-709989.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_6879968572431364802" /></a></p><p class="mobile-photo"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-vvM9QH1s_P0/X3qO-Vd9bBI/AAAAAAAAEYo/wNDGkR2jmXY_6LjINhoOVxWiyqM_CPgwQCK4BGAYYCw/s1600/IMG_20201005_135007-711862.jpg"><img src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-vvM9QH1s_P0/X3qO-Vd9bBI/AAAAAAAAEYo/wNDGkR2jmXY_6LjINhoOVxWiyqM_CPgwQCK4BGAYYCw/s320/IMG_20201005_135007-711862.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_6879968582327692306" /></a></p><p class="mobile-photo"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-zMOpdjjltpU/X3qO-nCcYbI/AAAAAAAAEYw/5AzNFyDDqj8nilJUqGf0oQfbR62F4c_EgCK4BGAYYCw/s1600/IMG_20201005_135154-713915.jpg"><img src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-zMOpdjjltpU/X3qO-nCcYbI/AAAAAAAAEYw/5AzNFyDDqj8nilJUqGf0oQfbR62F4c_EgCK4BGAYYCw/s320/IMG_20201005_135154-713915.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_6879968587044118962" /></a></p><div dir="auto">Most days I am generally resigned to the state of the world and the overwhelming sense of entitlement most people seem to have.<div dir="auto"><br></div><div dir="auto">They're everywhere. This is not limited to one Country or State.</div><div dir="auto"><br></div><div dir="auto">Today was one of those days I decided I had to say my piece.</div><div dir="auto"><br></div><div dir="auto">Context:</div><div dir="auto">Someone offering a place / sanctuary to victims of domestic violence in the Indian/Pakistani/Bangladeshi/ immigrant community in Australia.</div><div dir="auto"><br></div><div dir="auto">Who could possibly find fault in that, you ask? </div><div dir="auto">Uh.. These. People.</div><div dir="auto"><br></div><div dir="auto">People who basically have not been included because there is a Nationwide Government-funded Safety Net for the majority of them already. And I'm not saying there aren't people who fall through the cracks - I'm saying that this offering to a community in need somehow managed to be taken as a personal afront. </div><div dir="auto"><br></div><div dir="auto"><p dir="ltr">So here are my thoughts:</p><p dir="ltr"><br> As the author said (politely and patiently I might add) , </p><p dir="ltr">"no one person's pain or suffering is comparable, but we must acknowledge the disproportionate number of South Asian / immigrant women who face abuse in their homes."</p> <p dir="ltr">The responses to the post raising issue about the community she has chosen to specifically support are disappointing to read.</p> <p dir="ltr">If only people could acknowledge that all our cultural backgrounds and differences play a significant factor in our perspectives.</p> <p dir="ltr">Helping one community is never intended to negate the needs or traumas of another.</p> <p dir="ltr">Yes, it would certainly be nice to have something like this available to all the different communities of different genders/race/sexual orientation who suffer from domestic violence - and there already are for a lot of these.</p> <p dir="ltr">What the author of this post has burdened on her is a need to help à community she feels deeply for and where her insight has allowed her a deep understanding of the extent of trauma rippling through this community.</p> <p dir="ltr">Again, there is so much that is specific to the South Asian Community that those outside of it cannot begin to understand. Again none of this is being said to negate anyone's traumatic experiences, wherever you come from.<br> Already I write this response almost certainly expecting backlash and responses from many who take offence. Yet I am hoping that in writing this, people learn to understand that one person's call to help a specific group of people does not equate holding their worth or their traumas above another group or community.</p> <p dir="ltr">It's like the whole counter-Black Lives Matter movement (all lives matter) . Black Lives Matter was not created to mean Black lives matter *more*. And until you are a black person who has to raise your child in a world where they can be shot for the colour of their skin, you cannot imagine to understand.</p> <p dir="ltr">Again, it's like people raising issue with Breast Cancer Awareness because "what about all the other cancers".<br> An awareness of one issue is not to demean all other issues.</p> <p dir="ltr">So, we can sit here behind our screens and voice discontent at someone who is doing something to help her community (because it doesn't include all the other communities)...</p><p dir="ltr"><br> Or maybe.. We can ourselves do something about it and do something to actually contribute to all these other communities that we feel need help. <br></p></div></div> Charis Verahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08028108272168638193noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8201667941588487250.post-20801399811025172072019-02-12T05:43:00.001+08:002019-02-12T05:43:17.226+08:00Fall<p class="mobile-photo"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-ljLT70n7n2Y/XGHsdf6urhI/AAAAAAAAESo/35ekvJ5BmCseD4awc2t1uaPYO-TboBVTgCK4BGAYYCw/s1600/IMG_20190212_083243-797295.jpg"><img src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-ljLT70n7n2Y/XGHsdf6urhI/AAAAAAAAESo/35ekvJ5BmCseD4awc2t1uaPYO-TboBVTgCK4BGAYYCw/s320/IMG_20190212_083243-797295.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_6656861715758493202" /></a></p><div dir="auto"><div dir="auto"><br></div><div dir="auto"><br></div>I used to dream about this.<div dir="auto">All the time. </div><div dir="auto">Comfy couch, chilly arvo, her falling asleep in my lap; Time at a complete standstill.<br></div><div dir="auto"><br></div><div dir="auto"><br></div><div dir="auto">It wasn't even something I needed to imagine - we had wintery lazy afternoons in Perth and I knew, that was everything I ever needed, right there.</div><div dir="auto"><br></div><div dir="auto">I'm proud of myself for getting us both here, for doing exactly what I wanted or needed to do instead of spending a lifetime waiting for someone else to help get us there.</div><div dir="auto">An entire childhood of feeling like you're left hanging does do that to you - fill you with this constant inexplicable desire to actually DO things and GET SHIT DONE.</div><div dir="auto"><br></div><div dir="auto">If I want to go back to school - I'll make it fit with what I need so I can juggle work and studies. I'll pay for it, no one else owes it to me. </div><div dir="auto">If I want to be a mom - making sure I'm financially stable and able to give it the life it deserves. </div><div dir="auto">If I want to perform at a bar, or do a painting or have a showcase of one-person plays over the span of an hour - </div><div dir="auto">If I want something, I'll get it. </div><div dir="auto"><br></div><div dir="auto">And I guess it seemed more like an accidental by-product of circumstance that I never stopped to give myself credit. But here, now, six months in our new home, together and filled with a happiness I thought I had long forgotten - she crawls into my lap, dozing off as we watch telly and I run my fingers through her hair. </div><div dir="auto">She is so much more settled here. So much more sure of herself. </div><div dir="auto">And I... </div><div dir="auto">I keep taking it all in. </div><div dir="auto"><br></div><div dir="auto">For once, not second-guessing this happiness. Not wondering if I'm fooling myself into thinking that I won't eventually lose it. </div><div dir="auto"><br></div><div dir="auto">My favourite season is round the corner. </div><div dir="auto">And, just like leaves start falling in love with the ground, </div><div dir="auto">I find myself falling in love with life, </div><div dir="auto">All over again. </div><div dir="auto"><br></div></div> Charis Verahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08028108272168638193noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8201667941588487250.post-42256307958952011112018-10-22T16:08:00.000+08:002018-10-22T16:09:07.265+08:00<div dir="auto">You've got me slightly disappointed..<div dir="auto">Just a bit. </div><div dir="auto">And just enough... </div><div dir="auto">To keep me up another night </div><div dir="auto"><br></div><div dir="auto">Waiting </div><div dir="auto">For </div><div dir="auto">Another </div><div dir="auto">Day </div></div> Charis Verahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08028108272168638193noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8201667941588487250.post-55102301212039843462018-10-22T16:07:00.000+08:002018-10-22T16:08:03.182+08:00<div dir="auto">I think I know now,<div dir="auto">You're not home </div></div> Charis Verahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08028108272168638193noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8201667941588487250.post-31436335506763931712018-08-07T02:12:00.000+08:002018-08-07T02:13:01.344+08:00Santa Monica Dreamin'<p class="mobile-photo"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-hIBbqNrtP-g/W2iPrmfwLxI/AAAAAAAAESA/vtRJO6dJBQkNaLCGxBWdKQK8HCEyT--UQCK4BGAYYCw/s1600/IMG20180105143514-781469.jpg"><img src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-hIBbqNrtP-g/W2iPrmfwLxI/AAAAAAAAESA/vtRJO6dJBQkNaLCGxBWdKQK8HCEyT--UQCK4BGAYYCw/s320/IMG20180105143514-781469.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_6586672434260225810" /></a></p><div dir="auto"><div dir="auto">I haven't talked about it, how excited I am in this flurry of new things and plans but also overwhelming loneliness.</div><div dir="auto"><br></div><div dir="auto">Because isn't it insane, how many conversations you can keep having and how many opportunities you keep creating to talk, but you realise you're not really saying anything anymore.</div><div dir="auto">It's funny, how you keep running around doing all these other things for everyone else but you feel like there's nothing left for you.</div><div dir="auto"><br></div><div dir="auto">But it's also sad, how you feel like it's something you've talked about, and tried to talk about except there's stopped being a point.</div><div dir="auto"><br></div><div dir="auto">So.</div><div dir="auto"><br></div><div dir="auto">So in a roomful of people, you post an old picture of being out at sea and wonder if maybe you'll fall into bad habits again of leaving messages for strangers</div><div dir="auto">And, </div><div dir="auto">wondering if those bottles will ever find their way to shore.</div></div> Charis Verahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08028108272168638193noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8201667941588487250.post-50467751916965083592018-07-21T10:19:00.001+08:002018-07-21T10:19:48.601+08:00Notes From A Teenager, A Decade On<div dir="auto">It's been years since I've gone on one of those highly opinionated endless rants, raving at the injustice of the world. Or the education system.<div dir="auto"><br></div><div dir="auto">But today, on Facebook no less, there was a prompt to share a memorable one-liner from our teachers.</div><div dir="auto">Someone answered it, and in the comments were an endless stream of similar stories. </div><div dir="auto"><br></div><div dir="auto">Belittling, horrible mean things that were PERSONAL ATTACKS to these individuals when they were kids. </div><div dir="auto">Including someone who was referred to as an "Ang Moh Pai" (White person wannabe) who would never excel at the Chinese language.</div><div dir="auto">(ps, said person now regularly works with suppliers and manufacturers across the China border) </div><div dir="auto">All of which are basically things I've had firsthand experience of, growing up in the education system in Singapore.</div><div dir="auto"><br></div><div dir="auto">My shared post became a rant that I thought deserved to be published alongside all my other rants and rails against the world. </div><div dir="auto"><br></div><div dir="auto"><div dir="auto">This, but also the stories in the comments is what gets me. Being raised in the eduction system here - we all have those stories.</div><div dir="auto">From being yelled at across the rooftop gym</div><div dir="auto">"CHARIS NG DO YOU WANT TO BE FAT FOR THE REST OF YOUR LIFE"</div><div dir="auto">to</div><div dir="auto">"Your parents must be so disappointed in you" /</div><div dir="auto">"Girls you don't want to go to EM3 that's where are the kids from broken families go." /</div><div dir="auto">"(snide scoff) and who, might I ask, has faith in - you -?"</div><div dir="auto">Even, get this:</div><div dir="auto">"But you must know, I am right because I am your teacher and I am older than you." </div><div dir="auto"><br></div><div dir="auto">If you ask me why I deliberately went back and spent 9 years teaching in the Singapore system, it's because in a world of</div><div dir="auto"> " No" and</div><div dir="auto"> "You'll never be good enough" and</div><div dir="auto"> "Class, just leave him alone - he's autistic, he is always going to crawl around the classroom like an animal. Just ignore him."</div><div dir="auto">I wanted every kid I ever taught to know that they're worth it, and that there's something they can be good at.</div><div dir="auto"><br></div><div dir="auto">During introductions, at the start of every single one of my programs, when kids mumble their names and say they don't have a hobby and that they "have nothing to say",</div><div dir="auto">The first few things I tell every single one of them is:</div><div dir="auto">1) they deserve to be heard; I want to hear what they have to say </div><div dir="auto">2) there's no right or wrong answer in my class.</div><div dir="auto"><br></div><div dir="auto">If they wanna make Roméo & Juliette a tale about intercultural romance, or a gay love story where their parents come together to persecute them - go ahead.</div><div dir="auto"><br></div><div dir="auto">And every single piece I've ever seen in all my classes over 9 years, has been successful and amazing and something they can be proud of. </div><div dir="auto"><br></div><div dir="auto">----</div><div dir="auto"><br></div><div dir="auto">My youngest sister at 8 years old, came home from school one day to tell me about à classmate who</div><div dir="auto">"Isn't very blessed".</div><div dir="auto">"What?!" I asked, "I'm sure she's 'blessed' in ways that are different from what you can see."</div><div dir="auto"><br></div><div dir="auto">"hmm. No" she told me definitively.</div><div dir="auto">"My teacher told my class that's she's just not very blessed. She comes to school and her uniform isn't ironed and her shoes are kinda dirty."</div><div dir="auto"><br></div><div dir="auto">"Well maybe she's blessed with talents like art or math or..."</div><div dir="auto">"No, she's not good at maths or Chinese. I mean Chinese she's okay. But my teacher (WTF RIGHT?!?!) says she's just not very blessed. She only lives with her father at home, she doesn't have a mother."</div><div dir="auto"><br></div><div dir="auto">To which i had to say,</div><div dir="auto">"Well, when I was your age in primary school, (our) daddy didn't live with jiejie either. I only had my mummy. Do you think I'm not blessed?"</div><div dir="auto"><br></div><div dir="auto">Because seriously,</div><div dir="auto">If this is what I'll get, putting my kids into local schools, and local methodist schools at that,</div><div dir="auto">Then honestly,</div><div dir="auto">Fuck you.</div><div dir="auto"><br></div><div dir="auto">Fuck you because I'd rather my kids get arrested starting protests for something they believe in, than graduate with top grades and zero humanity.</div><div dir="auto"><br></div><div dir="auto">----</div><div dir="auto"><br></div><div dir="auto">When we were in school, my best friends and I were the subject of lots of blog trolling by the disciplinary committee. </div><div dir="auto">One, because lots of us were gay and if we were doomed to eternal damnation the school thought we deserved to have a taste of that damnation in our youth, whether we did well in school or not. </div><div dir="auto"><br></div><div dir="auto">But also, presumably, because we wrote and had mouths on us and teenage life is the best time to teach kids the meaning of defamation and the charges they can bring.</div><div dir="auto"><br></div><div dir="auto">So imagine that, whether online or offline, everything we wrote or said or even hinted at came under scrutiny. Our opinions could, and would get us into trouble.</div><div dir="auto">And guys, I'm not even being dramatic here okay, because we've been hauled into discipline offices, had our parents called in, been made to take down posts - you name it. </div><div dir="auto"><br></div><div dir="auto">So, now here we are. </div><div dir="auto">Close to two decades after that period of time with pseudonyms and delicately phrasing what we wanted to say, or not saying it at all. </div><div dir="auto"><br></div><div dir="auto">And this time, </div><div dir="auto">I hope my old teachers find it. I hope it makes for a lovely weekend read for them.</div><div dir="auto">Because this isn't me, being a sullen vindictive teenager trying to flame the system. This is me, the same individual, still heavily scarred by all the things that system was. </div><div dir="auto"><br></div><div dir="auto">This is me saying, openly, </div><div dir="auto">That every day that I woke up and went to school (on the days I fought it off lone enough to get to school) I wished desperately that a car would hit me. I crossed the road slower, I stepped off the curb too early all the time, and I cut myself up in the toilet in between classes since I was 13.</div><div dir="auto">I wished so fervently that I would be either dead or stuck in a hospital, because that would be better than bring caught in their endless cycle of bullshit. </div><div dir="auto"><br></div><div dir="auto"><br></div><div dir="auto">And now... </div><div dir="auto">Now I have kids, until I stopped teaching, I had kids, who sit with me, trying to find the words for the intense migraine and the suicidal thoughts that play on loop in their heads -</div><div dir="auto">And they ask me why. </div><div dir="auto"><br></div><div dir="auto"><br></div><div dir="auto"><br></div><div dir="auto">Well, that's the million dollar question isn't it?</div><div dir="auto">Perhaps that is one question they will be able to teach us all in class. </div><div dir="auto"><br></div><div dir="auto"><br></div></div></div> Charis Verahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08028108272168638193noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8201667941588487250.post-5628179703619229192018-05-29T09:53:00.001+08:002018-05-29T09:53:42.749+08:00New Beginnings, New Learning Curves<div dir="ltr"><div><div class="gmail_signature" data-smartmail="gmail_signature"><div dir="ltr"><div dir="ltr"><div dir="ltr"><div><div><i>But always the same shadows that hold you back and weigh you down</i></div></div><div><i><br></i></div><div><i><br></i></div><div>At some point, after nine years of teaching and creating drama-based learning programs, after 20 years of theatre being all the things I knew myself to be,</div><div>after always finding my way back home to the stage - the most honest and real space there is- </div><div>I decided to leave.</div><div><br></div><div>Well, no, not leave entirely. I think about it more like a time-out.</div><div>What I did want to do was leave the teaching behind.</div><div><br></div><div>There are so many beautiful moments I have collected along the way, and hours of stories that I have with the most talented teenagers I know; But you can't just stay in a happy bubble all the time.</div><div><br></div><div>Politics aside (which was a huge push factor), I also believe that you can't stay stagnant for very long. If you're not moving forwards, you're moving backwards. I still love a lot of all the things I used to do; But I also knew that I wasn't opening myself up to different challenges that would grow me in different ways.</div><div><br></div><div>So I left.</div><div><br></div><div>And it has been a year now.</div><div>2017's SYF was my wrap up project, and here I am. Almost miles away from that life and all the things it meant.</div><div><br></div><div>And boy, I don't know if I knew what I was signing up for.</div><div>I mean, of course I knew. But I don't know if I <i>really knew</i>, d'you know what I mean?</div><div><br></div><div>There are all these very new and nice moments that I like, but also a lot of truth in the world of headhunting that I am coming to terms with.</div><div>Like how a desk is never really warm. It's a brilliant company, where all the desks are supposed to be warm and where you're supposed to be able to get a decent start.</div><div><br></div><div>I don't know if anyone knows how much that applies to the Digital Space.</div><div>If you're a digital native, reading this, you very likely get it.</div><div><br></div><div>If there's been a trending topic on Twitter all day, and then you check in at 6.10pm and try and hop on to that, it's already pretty cold news.</div><div>Things move incredibly quickly. But also growing up in that age has birthed startups and young companies who also function like that.</div><div>Like what?</div><div>Like fluid and agile, all the time. Openly admitting that there's no point planning for anything beyond three months because those plans could and probably will change. Learning (sometimes the hard way), how to develop slightly more structured lines of communication.</div><div><br></div><div>How every non-micro-manager is actually a little bit of a micro-manager in their own way. Whether that works or doesn't work again depends on the environment and the team dynamic and the culture and the...</div><div><br></div><div>Throw in a headhunter into the mix; you're going to need someone who is patient and who wants to grow with you and the company. Who's not in it for a quick buck; because if they were they would be sorely disappointed. </div><div><br></div><div>I want to be that person.</div><div>And I have managed to be, for some people I'm working together with.</div><div>Things like these can move incredibly fast, but it could also... not.</div><div>Poor visibility, lack of funding...</div><div><br></div><div>It's going to make a lot more sense to target the massive conglomerates. The ones who you already know leverage off the help and expertise of recruitment agencies. But getting your foot in there, educating those who are behind on the digital landscape, knowing the fine line of difference there sometimes is but then having to explain that to people who don't.</div><div>Or who's online marketing plan is to set up a LinkedIn account and share posts.</div><div><br></div><div>I'm not tired yet. Not yet.</div><div>I'm a little bit emotional drained, only because of the realistic, number-driven, KPI-expectation side of this job.</div><div><br></div><div>But I believe in sowing seeds, and talking to them everyday as they take root beneath the soil and grow in place we cannot even see yet.</div><div>Surely, there will be a time and a season for harvest.</div><div><br></div><div>But,</div><div>It is not right now.</div><div><br></div></div></div></div></div></div> </div> Charis Verahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08028108272168638193noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8201667941588487250.post-62507048242985028552017-10-17T13:20:00.001+08:002017-10-17T13:20:03.599+08:00Flashback<div dir="auto"><div dir="auto">Isn't it funny- The many pieces of ourselves we leave behind with others. And lifetimes later, we see each other through pièces of glass; these distorted versions we barely recognise,</div><div dir="auto"><br></div><div dir="auto">Holding distorted pieces of us. </div></div> Charis Verahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08028108272168638193noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8201667941588487250.post-73403028780817733952016-11-03T01:43:00.001+08:002016-11-03T01:43:21.313+08:00Blink and you'll miss itThere are days I am afraid to go to sleep because I am so sadCharis Verahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08028108272168638193noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8201667941588487250.post-4084354288622335902016-05-15T01:38:00.001+08:002016-05-15T01:38:31.825+08:00Look at the stars<div><br></div><blockquote type="cite"><div><br></div></blockquote><blockquote type="cite"><div><meta http-equiv="content-type" content="text/html; charset=utf-8"><i>And how they shine for you</i><div><i><br></i></div><div><i><br></i></div><div>But the ways words fall to pieces In our hands, and tears swim in front of our eyes and suddenly</div><div><br></div><div>We're bursting at the seams. </div></div></blockquote>Charis Verahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08028108272168638193noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8201667941588487250.post-90454040741333052932016-02-20T15:40:00.001+08:002016-02-20T15:40:06.258+08:00I talked about the time I had you, and I laugh but then
<br>There are parts of me that still break a little bit inside.Charis Verahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08028108272168638193noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8201667941588487250.post-38338748681329720152016-01-28T22:55:00.001+08:002016-01-28T22:55:56.486+08:00[My sister. My best friend. And everything else. ]<p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 12px; font-family: Helvetica;"><br></p> <p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 12px; font-family: Helvetica; min-height: 13.8px;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"></span><br></p> <p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 12px; font-family: Helvetica;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">"She's not coming" you say, throwing your phone across the sofa</span></p> <p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 12px; font-family: Helvetica;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">"Neither is she" I respond, impassively. </span></p> <p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 12px; font-family: Helvetica;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">"So"</span></p> <p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 12px; font-family: Helvetica;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">"So."</span></p> <p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 12px; font-family: Helvetica; min-height: 13.8px;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"></span><br></p> <p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 12px; font-family: Helvetica;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">"Kawfee?"</span></p> <p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 12px; font-family: Helvetica;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">"Kawfee."</span></p>Charis Verahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08028108272168638193noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8201667941588487250.post-28592486712381420612016-01-12T22:02:00.001+08:002016-01-12T22:02:58.857+08:00My grandmother's stories (part I)"I'm sorry, I missed a step."
<br>"That's okay, I think it was me- I wasn't thinking straight"
<br>"We're old, it happens. I'm sorry."
<br>"Don't be sorry, it's okay. We can take it slow. We're old, we've got time."Charis Verahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08028108272168638193noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8201667941588487250.post-3660212066278782282015-09-03T15:50:00.001+08:002015-09-03T15:50:04.648+08:00Dear SingaporeIt's one of those days again:
<br>
<br>I'm on my way out the country to a destination frequented by Singaporean folk. We're still in the country and we were just having a discussion on multi-culturalism versus interculturalism. What also came up was the attacking and general resentment of foreign immigrants- whether blue collared or white collared. The family and I were just relating our own tales of being subject to behaviour of this sort. (Of course not leaving out moments when a Singaporean HAS come to our defensive and such)
<br>
<br>The table next door seems to have overheard us and has proceeded to switch to mandarin and begin speaking horribly of us- presumably because they figure we can't understand.
<br>"她们la-那个angmoh 的"
<br>"都是这样的lor."
<br>They have also proceeded to (in a failed attempt) discreetly take pictures of us.
<br>
<br>
<br>I guess I'm really sad. Just really, really sad.
<br>Despite never having felt at home in this country, there is still so much I have grown to appreciate and love immensely. And there are so many people who I've met here, spent most of my life with, people who have Contributed to making me more of a person than I could've ever hoped to become.
<br>There are so many good people here, so many genuine and friendly and loving Singaporeans I could never imagine doing life without.
<br>
<br>But then things like this happen and I realize:
<br>It doesn't matter how much I love what I have here or how sincerely grateful and blessed I feel to have gotten to live and and spent time in Singapore. Sure she's got her shortcomings- but name me a place that doesn't?
<br>Yet despite that, it doesn't seem enough.
<br>Never mind that I contribute to the society (I'd like to think), and the economy. Never mind that I teach in local schools and Strive towards igniting a love for the English language and literature and the arts. Never mind that I am burdened with continuous want to remind teenagers here that they are enough, that they are talented in their own ways and that I want to be a source of encouragement where they often feel like they only ever do things wrong. Never mind that some part of me (I have come to realize) truly does care about this society and the people who've been ostracized...
<br>Moments like these, or incidences where even now, in the year 2015 I still have been told to my face,
<br>"Stupid foreigner go back to your own country"-
<br>It just makes me realize
<br>I'm not welcome here, am i?
<br>We aren't welcome.
<br>
<br>And so,
<br>When my kids ask me
<br>"Ms C but why? Why Singapore..? Why would you want to live here?"
<br>And I smile and say,
<br>"Now isn't that the million dollar question, hey?"
<br>I'm not saying it with resentment or any amount of snark. I'm saying it with a very special level of sadness and heartache that was formed and only belongs here.
<br>
<br>Having said all this though, I refuse for my posts to sound so bloody tragic. So I'd like instead to take time here to say thank you to all the amazing Singaporeans I have come to know and love here. So many of you are my go-to people and I cannot begin to tell you how grateful I am for you. And even when I go off on rants like these, please know that whenever I am asked why I'm still living here,
<br>I think of you.Charis Verahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08028108272168638193noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8201667941588487250.post-27933936544640126972015-08-26T23:54:00.001+08:002015-08-26T23:54:59.334+08:00Once upon an August 26th-You would've been just a little over six now,
<br>And life would've been unfathomable without you.Charis Verahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08028108272168638193noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8201667941588487250.post-36584411272484906392015-08-13T15:29:00.001+08:002015-08-13T15:29:55.471+08:00<p class="pt32" style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 10px;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Do not stand at my grave and weep <br style="box-sizing: border-box;">I am not there. I do not sleep. <br style="box-sizing: border-box;">I am a thousand winds that blow. <br style="box-sizing: border-box;">I am the diamond glints on snow. <br style="box-sizing: border-box;">I am the sunlight on ripened grain. <br style="box-sizing: border-box;">I am the gentle autumn rain. <br style="box-sizing: border-box;">When you awaken in the morning's hush <br style="box-sizing: border-box;">I am the swift uplifting rush <br style="box-sizing: border-box;">Of quiet birds in circled flight. <br style="box-sizing: border-box;">I am the soft stars that shine at night. <br style="box-sizing: border-box;">Do not stand at my grave and cry; <br style="box-sizing: border-box;">I am not there. I did not die.</span></p><a href="http://m.poemhunter.com/mary-elizabeth-frye/" class="text-writer grilink italic pt32" style="box-sizing: border-box; text-decoration: none; outline: none; font-style: italic; display: block;"><font color="#000000"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Mary Elizabeth Frye</span></font></a>Charis Verahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08028108272168638193noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8201667941588487250.post-35797047212756288692015-07-29T14:56:00.001+08:002015-07-29T14:56:39.672+08:00Bonne chanceChoosing to leave plasters on for as long as I need to so that I may heal.Charis Verahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08028108272168638193noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8201667941588487250.post-21054488228985088192015-07-16T22:51:00.001+08:002015-07-16T22:51:42.667+08:00Ça va très bien, mercii haven't felt this settled for a while.Charis Verahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08028108272168638193noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8201667941588487250.post-19158046514505865802015-06-30T15:09:00.001+08:002015-06-30T15:09:23.058+08:00Left the lights on<p class="mobile-photo"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-0yYtGKhyuCY/VZJAoxNoV_I/AAAAAAAAEOQ/YJrYU4uiy1g/s1600/image-763058.jpeg"><img src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-0yYtGKhyuCY/VZJAoxNoV_I/AAAAAAAAEOQ/YJrYU4uiy1g/s320/image-763058.jpeg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_6166061908973082610" /></a></p>It was a long way back,
<br>but there's nowhere else I'd rather be than
<br>Home.Charis Verahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08028108272168638193noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8201667941588487250.post-17510477296383853192015-06-17T23:25:00.001+08:002015-06-17T23:25:04.774+08:00Hey stranger <br><p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 12px; font-family: Helvetica;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">Because you remind of the person I was, and everything I'm supposed to be. </span></p>Charis Verahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08028108272168638193noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8201667941588487250.post-3787016697175105982015-06-15T01:01:00.001+08:002015-06-15T01:01:33.729+08:00Breaking pointLedge. Air. Wind.
<br>I am so afraid of heights and yet, when I think of ways out I think of
<br>
<br>Parapets, corners, bridges, too many levels up and the way I cannot hear my tears fall against the concrete floor.
<br>If my body falls, will it make a sound?
<br>And if it doesn't, does it mean it's actually fallen at all?
<br>
<br>Did you know,
<br>You can fall in love in so many ways.
<br>And did you know? Even after, you can keep falling in love...
<br>Over and over and over again.
<br>But did you also know that you can keep Falling and you tell yourself it doesn't hurt but Jesus Christ it does and you wish you wouldn't hurt, wish you could outrun this bullshit
<br>But then you're numb numb numb
<br>And sitting on the couch with your coffee wishing for the first time that you had your tears and your sadness-
<br>Do you know why?
<br>Because it's all that's left of her.
<br>And that matters.
<br>It's almost like, all that sadness caused by that absence..
<br>That absence of her...
<br>That's all you have left.
<br>
<br>That's all you've got left darling.Charis Verahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08028108272168638193noreply@blogger.com0