Playing for keeps 

Hey everyone 

So Sunday stories will start again this Sunday. Sorry about the lack of stories but I have been enjoying the weather and organic conversations and haven’t been spending much time at the computer. My apologizes for this…. I have missed it. 

It made me think about my character and why I think I am so attached to my emotions and why I feel so much. I realise that I am a hoarder. I hoard my memories and the stories I hear. I plaster the walls and ceiling of my rabbit hole with every memory that I have and lay down and look like them like I do at a starry night. I watch the stories like reruns of my favourite show, reeling off the script before the words are spoken and find comfort in the familiarity of my favourite parts. I intertwine the words that have been spoken with my lungs as if there are a requirement for me to breathe. I paint every stolen moment on the back of my hands so that I can learn to never forgot them. I let the whispers of my past lovers echo inside me, their broken promises and the taunted memories shatter over me all over again. I feel the pain run through my bloodstream until the taste of poison is on my lips. Then it all goes black. 

I come around and the taste of salt is on my lips and I feel the dried path of tears that have run away from my eyes. The light has vanished from the day and cast a darkness of uncertainity into my bedroom. I am disorientated to time and place. I feel a heartbeat and it is my own. I realise I am alive and my rabbit hole has consumed me once again. I realise that in those moments, I am nothing more than a collection of memories, stories and past lives that haunt me. I find words escaping my lips like gasps of air – “you are not here”, “you are going to go away”, “I am alone”. I repeat it to myself until the words become a warm blanket. Then you win. You are gone and you still win. Five years later and my happiness can still be dictated by your icy cold touch and your narassatic  ways. The agony of the untold stories inside me place me in a world of my own. 

So when I write your stories and I hear about your experiences, I hoard the lessons that you all have teach me about love, lost, adventure, failure, success, happiness and fear. Kari Kampakis wrote “we are all wired to find love. And when we meet someone who radiates it, we naturally crave their company“. I crave your stories and fall in love with your characters. In a strange way, you are all a piece in my puzzle, my becoming. Your struggles are the imperfections that make you perfect. And I log on and know that I have something good to read before bed. You all have stories that you share with the world and it’s incredible to be able to drink in your words like the coffee I sip. You remind me that in the end our lives are stories, our past experiences become history the minute the clock strikes 12:00 and a new day is upon us. 

So I start to remove each painful memories from my walls and paint over the weathered walls with your Sunday stories. I cover up the broken remains that has caged me for years with stories of hope and love. It has taken me 29 years to built a strong home for my unruly heart. But when I think about the stories I have heard and are yet to hear, I build a door in my tall walls. When I open it I see the ocean and the endless possibilities that lie ahead. I have spent my life asking the people that chose to be there with me “how can you love me?” I counted my flaws on my fingers and toes and run out of room for any strengths. However, when I started this blog, I found people who loved my for my mind, told my that my mind and depth should be envied and again all all I can ask is “why?” Instead I should be telling all of you that I chose to read my words and show your love what I feel. So this is my way of saying that I adore you, each of you, for the strength that you provided, the time taken to read my words, the heart you have left in every comment. 

  • I am the pieces of quotes from my favourite book
  • I am my favourite song lyrics 
  • I am the midnight conversations 
  • I am the sweet taste of coffee
  • I am the girl that leave my heart in every post
  • I am still finding my way

I have the tendency to fall apart suddenly and I need you to understand this and by somewhat be okay with this. I need that because I am created only by the souls who are brave enough to lie down in my rabbit hole next to me and stare at the covered walls and ceiling in amazement. To explore the beauty of their ugliness and to stand there unaffected by its effect on me. So please continue supporting me. I need all the love I can feel. 

Much love, 

Ivy xx

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Author: Ivy iris

This is my story of finding my ikigai. Ikigai (生き甲斐, pronounced [ee-ki-ɡU]) is a Japanese concept meaning "a reason for being". According to the Japanese, everyone has a hidden ikigai. Finding it requires a deep and often lengthy search of self. Such a search is regarded as very important, since it is believed that discovery of one’s ikigai brings satisfaction and meaning to life.

3 thoughts on “Playing for keeps ”

  1. Hello 🙂 We used to follow each other! But I deleted my old blog site (dreamkatcherblog.wordpress.com) and migrated my posts to a new domain (I just bought it the other day hihi). It’s now loveafterlove.net 🙂 I’m visiting all of the authors I have followed before and give everyone a notice. I hope to maintain the connection. Have a nice day!

    Liked by 1 person

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