Shadows of a Non-existent self

I wrote your name in dust on a truck
As it rolled out of town
Just in case my love for you might be found
I cried my tears in a mountain stream
They’ll sting you one day
I called your name in a giant cave
It echoes to this day

So sister, you’re hearing how I miss her
But I don’t think that she’s hearing my calls
So sister, you’re hearing how I miss her
But I don’t think that she’s hearing my calls
No I don’t think that I’m helping my cause

I wrote our names on a subway wall
Just in case you call
I rent a room and its just for two
But where are you?”

The Verve – So Sister


I’m having trouble. I will not deny it, though I will not seek resolve.
“S, You are always helping others, so good to talk to, its hard to believe you can be sad
I have heard this. heard it with solemness, fear, regret, pride … even smugness. nearly all of the anyones who know this no one have commented on Her tendency to hide away behind this wall of “helping others” because she doesn’t know how to help herself. Doesn’t know how … and cannot seek to know how. Doesn’t know how, and does not want to know how.
Mum, you think that my dreams of volunteering my hands to Africa and and my soul to dying children worlds away –  trying to  save the world in some way is selfish, all a part of this too …. this desperate, underlying need to fix something to compensate for what I cant fix within myself…whats broken so long unseen and seen too late. A shattered mess of life.
and its true.
I feel sad, I write about it.  I feel sick, I get diagnosed and medicated. But … I never, not once, have looked into the depths of myself and tried to help her. That girl who is struggling, she … doesnt exist. The world around me is bold and beautiful as long as I’m not in it… as long as I am standing from afar, an anonymous admirer. not me, not in it. Not existing.

SO sister  …. I don’t think that Im helping my cause …

Sian Alexia

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