If I Could

If I could only tell you
Of all that has been done
If only you could understand
Who and what I have become

If I could only tell you 
Of the worlds I’ve seen
Hills and trees of other place
Bright citadels that gleam

If I could only tell you
Of life I had to lead
Stripped of understanding voice
Learn to talk, to hear, to read

If I could only tell you
Of the strings and the ties
That I’ve bound myself up in
For safety if not wise

If I could only tell you
Of the people I have faced
Of the sea of strangers 
Independency embraced

If I could only tell you
Of the loneliness I’ve bared
Isolated, far away
Count the all tears I’ve shed

If I could only tell you
Of the friendships I now know
Lives shared, changed together
In shadows that we grow

If I could only tell you
Of the things I have done
The mistakes and the saves
The shame and marvelous fun

If I could only tell you
Of the monsters fought alone
Fears forced to face and overcome
In hardship I have grown

If I could only tell you
Of the things I hid from sight
To keep safe and whole, pretenses
Buried deep within the night

If I could only show you
Of all the wonders I have seen
Postcard pics, actually real
Like something from a dream

If I could only tell you
Of adventures I have had
Laughing and ridiculous 
The wondrous and the mad

If I could only show you
How much I am now
Who I’m truly becoming
…If only I knew how

Flying Home

WARNING: Emotional rant 😛 If you don’t know me/care about me, I don’t recommend you read the following, unless you want some messily arranged psychological my-head insights.

I’m going home soon. That’s quite possibly the scariest truth I’m facing now. In 16 days I will be going home. Home; Melbourne, Australia. Home, mine, since I was 5, hosting my mother and father and beloved little sisters and grandparents, and all my cousins an hour or 12 away. Home, where I grew up, had my childhood, swam ran learned sang and laughed, made friends and lost them, the sprawling city I’ve loved, where I’ve planned for years to one day raise my own family. Home, a world I haven’t seen for nearing 10 months, 12 if you don’t count the ten days between Indonesia and Argentina.

 

I’m coming home
I’m coming home
Tell the world I’m coming home
Let the rain wash away
All the pain of yesterday
Know my kingdom awaits
They’ve forgiven my mistakes
I’m coming home
I’m coming home
Tell the world in coming…

 

If only it was that simple. On one hand, I will be returning, to the security of my own family, to the ease of 99.9% English, to the well known lives and paths of the people who have been around me for years. I won’t be Taasha from Australia who Came Here in February and Speaks Good Castellano now, or Taasha from Australia who Sits In Class Quietly (writing or reading, music or talking occasionally), or even Taasha from Australia who lives in Argentina, who has Travelled the World and Plays Guitar Music that Nobody Knows but Everyone Likes a Little. That’s surface-me here. That’s probably who and what they see, who I appear to be on first glance, and I’ve gotten used to ‘being’ that, even though that’s not who I was. Back home I was Taasha the Smart Talented Student, the Eldest Sister and Happy Caring Friend. I fit in, had family and friends and confidence and the security of years. They were the things I missed the most when I first arrived here, the things I ached and longed to have.

But I don’t anymore. It’s been bloody 10 months, I’ve gotten used to being alone, not understanding a lot of the time, being the strange one who has a hard time communicating, the one without a real family, the loner. The one who has seen more of this country than most of the people around me, (in less than a tenth of the time they’ve spent in it) seen more of the world than most of the people I’ve met, the one who’s learnt to cry silently in the night because she daren’t go to anyone in person. I’ve learnt to be that, and I’ve adapted, and it’s pretty good most of the time, especially the last 4 months. I’m the one who strolls confidently throughout the city, who has fantastic conversations with the street artists and revels in the vivacity of life, the one who never has homework, the one with the expensive iPhone, but lives out of a suitcase and a fantastic array of earrings. I’m happy here, happy being the odd lonely artistic Australian, and I know, knew this existence wasn’t sustainable or quite possibly healthy, but I also knew I couldn’t live craving what I’d left behind. So I didn’t.

And now I’m going home. Back to school in the morning, and classes that are actually taken seriously for a change 😛 and proper uniforms and no nailpolish or hoops, back to my wonderful family who sheltered and loved me enough to encourage me to fly away, friends who were all so close, before the year split us apart. Back to English and taking my bike instead of hailing a cab, busking for my money instead of going to an ATM, back to homework and exams and assignments and little sisters who are wonderful and pesky and talkative and loving and invasive and charming within 1/2 an hour. Back to the city being a dangerous place to hang out, going to the beach on the weekend, singing and hugging when I feel like it, not being alone anymore. But as always, the price of security is freedom.

Far away, long ago
Glowing dim as an ember,
Things my heart used to know,
Things it yearns to remember

Someone holds me safe and warm
Horses prance through a silver storm
Figures dancing gracefully
Across my memory…

Melody, long ago
Sing this song and remember,
Soon you’ll be, home with me
Once upon a December

~Once Upon a December, from the Disney Anastasia

It fits so well. Because it really has become more of a memory to me, the world I used to know. I’ve changed, I’ve learned to live alone, Argentina is my world now. I never quite belonged, but I was happy here, and now that it’s time to leave…I don’t want to. Change is frightening, especially when one is unsure of what change it’ll be. When I left on that plane, on an early Saturday morning, I only looked forward, to the exciting unknown new adventure I was facing, not back at the world I knew, loved and would someday return to. Now when I step onto the airplane, I’ll be leaving behind so many friends, so many places, memories, a world and way of life I will never be able to truly experience the same way again.

And the worst part is; the world, the home I’m returning to? It’s not the same anymore either. And neither am I.

Changes

He sat in front of the screen
Another day passing,
Another day in his world of grey
He sat and posted, linked and shared
She watched him living and despaired
Does he know how much I care?
How much I need him, but how I don’t dare
To reach out, to heal him, hear him smile
How my heart breaks if he’s gone for a while
He was the one who was there from the start
He always will have that place in my heart
But something has changed, twisted, gone
A veil is up, something is wrong
The worst is I know, understand why
What he really needs and wants is not I
So I’ll dry my tears and let it go
Giving up after this time, coz I know
There’s nothing anymore that I can do
Although what I wish, I cannot dare
Only watching, hoping, this pain can I bear?
But I must, only wishes I now send to you
There’s nothing anymore that I can do

….Yea. I wrote this, again, a while back, for/about (obviously) a mate of mine. Who’s name doesn’t need to be disclosed. You can imagine the emotions running behind this, and while it’s now basically moot and merely history, it’s still a decent poem. This’s the thing about me; give me a strong emotion, something bubbling and bursting and pushing inside of me, be it pain, joy, love, fear or any of the more complex, and it usually ends up taking the form of poetry, after I’m done letting out some of the steam by playing my guitar/listening to music. So I’ve got quite an array of poetry stored up from the past few years – I’d much rather be able to write music, but. Enjoy and cultivate the talents you were gifted with. Expect more poems from the past popping up!

N/B: Because the title got it stuck in my head, go listen to Changes by David Bowie and Butterfly Boucher xD

¡Hello world!

Hello. Hola. Bonjour.
Welcome to…here. My personal rant space, because fanfiction.net doesn’t do poetry and thoughts, and I can only unload so much of that on the poor people that know me on Facebook 😛 Is an introduction in order? I believe it is. Well, if you’re reading this I hope you’re pleased to meet me. I’m certainly pleased to meet anyone whos found and reads this!
And as for me. I am…
Complicated, I think would be the best word for it.

Are all people like this?
~Like what?
So much bigger on the inside.

So this is me from the inside, I imagine. Welcome! Please pull to open. I like blue skies, pretty things, freedom in thought & freedom in life as well as some decent music (anything powerful and/or happy, from the 16 hundreds to the latest Glee episode, but no electronic thanks) I hate bullies and sadists, anyone who hurts someone else intentionally, and I adore travelling and learning and creating, as well as staying generally on the positive side of things. Some call me naive too. Well, maybe I am. I’m working on it though, getting mixed results on that front. But yes. I’m a functioning independent human being
with a hobby of thinking too much. I’m also a girl. (go figure)
Well, hi!