SOL: Glorious

My body is no longer your body
It has changed since your
Fingers last tried to delve deeper
Than my spine
My body is my body and it
Holds silver, it bleeds copper
It becomes gold when
I step from the sea
It holds rings of sterling that
Are marked like badges of
All been done to me

3AM Thoughts // AKA “i am my own.”

SOL: A Year In Review

In February of this year, I made many choices that upon creation of this blog  five years ago, I did not expect to ever occur.

This website started as a way to keep creating after I finished university. True to its mission, it has kept me busy in the five years of travel I have done since completing my degree. It has been an outlet for anger, a creative safe place and at times, a cause for argument and tension within relationships. Overall, this website has been 100% mine and though at times of depression or intense upheaval I have neglected it, I never fail to return.

In the beginning of this year I made the decision to leave a job that has allowed me to travel for the majority of a year and work remotely. While it was a bittersweet moment to leave for good, ultimately it was a mutual decision and both parties felt that I had prepped enough and passed the baton for someone else to continue. After completing my outstanding contract, I packed my things and made the permanent move to Malta.

Why Malta?

I get asked on a daily basis how I ended up in a very tiny archipelago in the Mediterranean Sea. My answer is always the same, “I came here for the sun.” It is not a lie, but I had no idea what or where Malta was until it found me through, of course, Workaway. I was looking for a remote island, I did not care where, because I wanted to be somewhere where my ex could not find me.

I feel it important to make note of the catalyst to come to Malta, not out of spite, but in order to be more transparent. As of late I have become forced to address the negative implications of a “highlight reel” lifestyle on social media that is absolutely fake and unattainable. In the pictures I posted and sent out we were smiling,constantly traveling and enjoying life. Behind closed doors it was a constant power struggle of manipulation, threats, lectures and lies. So, in saying that I wanted to be somewhere where my ex could not find me, it was a rational response to someone telling me, “I will come there and wait until you want to be with me.” The emotional and physical effects of being utterly controlled and manipulated made me want to vanish. So I did – to Malta.

In coming to Malta a year ago, I made a vow to myself that for six months, I would have nothing but fun. By my logic, it made absolute sense: trade a year of bullshit with a psychopath, earn a half-year back of sheer selfish happiness. Within the first week my Workaway host asked me, “Do you always laugh this much?” I laughed more in seven days than I had in the entire previous year combined. I spent nights praying to be free of several men in my life – and by last May, it seemed like I had finally escaped.

Malta was a beautiful escape at first. An eclectic mix of European living with Arabian architecture, it is easy to get lost in the narrow streets and blazing heat. I enjoyed my time here for seven months, until a misdiagnosis of PCOS sent me spiralling and flying back to Canada for treatment. Upon returning to Canada, I realized that I felt different in a familiar place. The health scare turned out to be nothing and I felt a weight lifted. I felt free again.

In October I returned to Malta, this time without being chased and simply by choice. Upon coming back after an absence of two months, it felt strange and once again I wondered if I had made the right decision. The damage done by previous relationships had healed and while I wanted to date, it simply felt forced. I have never liked dating websites and have steadfastly refused to touch them. I prefer to stumble into romance rather than go fishing for it.

Admittedly, I grew bitter. I was frustrated with being alone, and in turn, it was making me alienate myself. I did what my therapist had advised me to do; go out with friends, read, create, go to the gym. Immerse myself in all the things that I personally like to do and eventually something good will come from it.

So I did. I chugged along and felt a little less bitter and I worked hard. For four months I worked without break and by January I realized that, entirely against my will and without being forced, I was in love again. I don’t want to say that I had “fallen in love” because it was not sudden; instead it was simply friendship, nothing more, which slowly and naturally evolved into something chemical and unavoidable.

I have told him, many times, that if this is what love is, I understand fully what I was missing. Whereas before I was impatient, envious, full of pride, selfish and quick to point blame or act out, in loving him, I have grown into a women more and a child less.

Last February, I made a promise to myself to dedicate six months to pure selfish happiness and a full year to my own personal growth. This year, I took stock of the changes, accepted the losses, and happily moved forward.

The point of this post is not to air dirty laundry, but rather to put the past in the past and send a message to some of you who may be like me last February. To that, I can only say, keep pushing, keep working, keep trying and eventually, all the struggle makes sense. It never stops, but at the very least, it has meaning, and if your struggle has meaning you can sleep soundly at night.

Safe travels,

Alexandria

SOL: Disruption

Aging Lolita, she smiles as
She knows this is as good as it gets
Cherubic target, he only registers defeat after she has
Sunk her teeth into his back
Running voracious hands through angelic
Spirals, devouring him out of spite, blaming
Recklessness on the pursuit of pleasure
Tossing regret to the wind and shedding
Inhibitions like the sweat that drips from
Her skin, still tight from the salt in the
Sea, the shape of her body makes him
Drop to his knees
Writing apologies, illicit whispers
In hungry ears, dragging a repentant body
Back to the beach, washing it clean

3AM Thoughts // AKA “Her Smile Promises Infinite Pleasure.”

SOL: Juxtaposition

Echoing sonnets ring from the ceiling
Your hand on my chest and
An ache coursing through spine
Bent over promises I made as
You come to collect on cold hard tiles
It was better before but
Bargaining for life will suffice
Daydreaming of freedom, praying softly into pillows for
The time to come, long awaited
Basking into the sunrise before you open your eyes
The sour taste you left in my mouth was rapidly erased
By the sweet stench of escape

3AM Thoughts // AKA “How Bad It Was – How Good It’s Become.”

MIND: Hazy

The Mediterranean sun has something tragic about it, quite different from the tragedy of fogs. Certain evenings at the base is the seaside mountains, night falls over the flawless curve of a little bay, and there rises from the silent waters a sense of anguished fulfillment. In such spots one can understand that if the Greeks knew despair they always did so through beauty and its stifling quality.

Helen’s Exile // Albert Camus

SOL: Sybaritic

The devil is a woman in
A black dress, backless, looking spineless
Chain smoking loosely rolled cigarettes as if
It is a kindness, exhaling ash, each word
Biting your lobe, voracious, transparent attempts to
Rile you up, make the atmosphere boil
The rough shape of her jaw making
You stick to your clothes, forcing eyelids shut
Imagining an easier death, lilies on graves, sunnier
Days, admitting defeat – you know she loves best with her
Throat exposed

3AM Thoughts // AKA “I Teach Her of Passion From The Tip Of My Tongue.”