It wasn't you/ You weren't there

Posted on 4:22 PM by Miss Euphoria Jade Oyatz | 1 comments

You got to keep on walking; you just got to keep on going. Everything in my body wanted to turn around, just to turn around and somehow make him my Mr Right. But I had to keep walking, it’s not him, you’ve given him enough time to rise to the position but he never did, he could have but he never did. So, now you got to keep walking, you got to keep on going because it’s not him. No matter how much you want that cheeky smile to mean something it never will, it never did, and it will never hold promises of change or promises of a future, it will just always be a cheeky smile that sometimes makes you smile back, but not today. So keep walking………

Killing me couldn’t explain it. Unlike normal it was four words and not three, started with ‘I’ and ended with ‘You’ but didn’t mean the same thing, or give me that feeling of controlling gravity or my insides smiling, no it didn't.

It sucked the breath out of me and solidified tears behind my eyes causing a severe ache. ‘ I Don’t Want You’, even without tears my vision became blurred and panic washed over me, little vibrations rolled of my skin and before I knew it the ground seemed to be shaking, seemed to be, it was really me.

 I was blank for the first few seconds when I heard it, and then for a few more minutes when I realised that it came for you. The air around me became thick with dread and I somehow could not take it into my lungs. That must have been what started the dizziness. You don’t want me, your returning me? What’s wrong with me, can I fix it? The finality in your eyes was frightening and as I looked into them I realised that you weren’t there. So, I guess I should have taken relief in the fact it wasn’t really you that said it, but I couldn’t, if you weren’t in there then where were you? Either way I’d lost you, so it was no longer a case of you not wanting me, it was more like me not having you anymore.

 Knowing that alone was enough to cause serious harm to myself. Walking away wasn’t really hard, it was more like an action that had to be done, there was no other reason to stand there, and I’d lost you. And although I knew that the person standing there looked and sounded like you, it wasn’t enough to keep me there. The battle had been lost, you were lost and so was I.

I Do Things To Numb Myself

Posted on 4:08 PM by Miss Euphoria Jade Oyatz | 1 comments

Ok, I had written this a good while ago, and I guess it was when I was going through my depression era and being on my own was daunting.... Thankfully I'm out of that era but it still somehow appeals to me....


I do things to numb myself, because I can no longer do normal things, no longer have time to myself...... Time to think, time to be alone. And so I do certain things to numb myself, make my passage through time effortless and somehow not in time..... To pass through time and make nothing of it, to pass through time and not have to remember. I do things to numb myself...I do not what time to think, to ponder about the why’s, and when’s, the what if’s and why not’s... things like sleep and quiet times are out of the question. Even dreams are things I would avoid if I truly could. Anything that allows me insight into my thoughts scares me, everything that goes up there through my touch and sight, I prefer to leave undisturbed. My mind can do a lot of horrible things to me...thats why I would much rather pass through life without any thoughts, to sacrifice the good memories that I clutch to on lonely nights if it meant keeping the bad and mysterious ones away. I have never been the curious type and prefer to leave certain things the way they are. The mysteries of my mind are not ones that I burn to solve. I’d rather be numb than have my mind taunt me with illusions or mock me with my expectations. The clocks have been ticking for a while and still are but instead of the ticking creating an urgency it has become like the sound of my own heart beat, something that happens in the background. A sound that I have learnt to tune out at will. The ticking has no effect on me, and now I have lost time and only go through moments. Moments that cannot actually be called moments because I have shunned memories that make moments, and now have nothing to measure time or what is and isn't.... with the absence of time I have nothing to record and nothing to account for in the end, because you see, I never used time therefore it was never wasted, I have nothing to account for and should be thrown into oblivion as punishment. But maybe my life is what I owe them account for, because it’s the one thing I would gladly give back. I never quite figured it out and it has never really been much good to me or to the one that gave it to me. If I gave it back then I would not be.... i would numb………..forever.

My First Stitch....

Posted on 12:28 AM by Miss Euphoria Jade Oyatz | 2 comments

Everything hurts...I put my first stitch in today and it hurt twice as much as the wound and I cried twice as hard.
There was nothing left to bleed though. These arms are no longer long enough to hold this body together.... I can't stop this breaking effect...I thought there was a limit to how much one memory could break me but I was wrong, cracks that were too tiny to see have some how found a way to split into two. These violent vibrations that rock this fragile body are catastrophic....they shake everything away...self esteem, the very core of who I am and I can't seem to stop it. I have become a cripple.... And to think that this is only the first stitch, to think that this one wound will require many more excruciating stitches... the thought makes me want to second think healing at all. You took me away from me, you broke me while you were still aware, it was a concious effort on your part....and though the blood I bled radiant, brighter than any other, still wasn't enough to call your attention to your written tragedy.... This written tragedy which is now my life. Cries and screams that frighten the body that they come out from were not enough to make you want to come see about me. Pain so deep it has its on heart beat. I gave everything and then some....and as I write right now I know I am not coming from a place where love exist or were the courageous dwell....but its surprising that I still carry this love in my heart.....it is represented in every shredded piece of this heart. I know I still have a pulse some where....although excitement runs over me when I can't find it sometimes, I wish to be without pulse.....I wish to not be. But it would be too easy to hurt once and not wake again.... too easy and too kind.I can not put a finger on the source of this maddening agony because again that will be too easy, throbbing of nothingness in me makes me beg for numbness... I do not sleep any more I just hurt in my unconsciousness and wake up to the reality of my pain. I feel no shame in reassuring you that you broke me, You took me and broke me. You can take credit for this art....you have orchestrated these daily nightmares I now live ...pinched myself so many times to try and wake up, but only causing further wounds which will eventually need healing in the future. If I refuse to heal I walk around being labled your trophy, a walking proof of just how strong you are.... But I can no longer be the blank canvas that you destructively paint on. I am weak from the shoves and pounding, the bashing and splashing, and from the occasional slashing..... I only take comfort in knowing that pain like this has been felt before, misery so comfortable has been broken before....I will be brave enough to put that second stitch in some day....but not today...today I wallow in the pain of this one stitch and rock myself from nothing into something.....Today is my first stitch...

Four Weeks....*sigh*

Posted on 4:39 PM by Miss Euphoria Jade Oyatz | 2 comments



The snow is steady falling outside *sigh*....roll over check my clock its, 2am.*sigh* I still have another fours of rolling to do. It's been four weeks of my constant rolling now, rolling and not bumping into anything, just the solid cold nothingness on the other side..... Its been four weeks of just my breathing, me laying with out the lullaby of the other. Its been four weeks. *sigh*. Four weeks of my black and white days, birthing more grey ones. Four weeks since these pictures have been flashing past my mind on mute. Flashing pictures which my mind has stopped comprehending. Four weeks of counting these bottles, my friends, on the window sill. Four weeks..... *sigh*. Four weeks of being stuck in slow mo, feeling like the girl standing on a street corner, while fast blurs of colour speed past me ,and for some reason I just stand there. I can't pick up my pace, every thing is in slow mo, I'm stuck in slow mo.... Four weeks *sigh*.... Back to my present...these four corners of my room seem to be closing in, but its my mind teasing me again. I wish they would close in, come so close together that they'd have no choice but to swallow me in their attempts to disappear into oblivion....Silence......again. Further mocking and highlighting my loneliness.*sigh* Shadows of the falling white outside, but not even the light graceful falls of these beauties can hypnotize me into appreciation. Instead, I hear in the back of my head, conversations that happened on nights like this, filled with enough happiness to whisk me out of slow mo,add colour to my flashes, and stop my rolling but.....its been four weeks. Check time....its only 2:15am...*sigh* Don't want to miss you, but how can I not, when everything commands and summons thoughts that were four weeks and then some ago?.... How can I not, when my heart now seems too heavy to carry around in my chest? How can I not miss you? Tears flow without reason, I have stopped the questioning of my bodily reactions.....I have stopped questioning my lungs when it is unable to take air that is readily available....I have stopped....Its been four weeks. Its been four weeks since sleep left me....Its been four weeks since I have been begging and pleading... Every night, laying perfectly still waiting for its call, the one that never came....Its been four weeks.....*sigh*....Its been four weeks of my happiness running on a low current, one that can not light up my entire body, its like a light bulb already dangerously dim and flickering still....Its been four weeks..... Its been four weeks since sanity evacuated my mind and gave room for nothing.....Its been four weeks since I was told I was no longer good enough....... Four weeks since I murdered what we had....*sigh*...Four weeks since I was starred at with a vacant look, four weeks since I went invisible....Four weeks....*sigh*....Its been four weeks since you left me....*sigh*

Little Girl

Posted on 3:26 PM by Miss Euphoria Jade Oyatz | 8 comments

Little girl’s dream filled with play and laughter, little girl’s reality filled with unwanted touches while trying slip into unconsciousness, while she tries to forget everything. Touches from coarsen palms...hands dead and old, dried with hard toil. Hands that have no business touching the softness of this little girl. Presenting smells that a little girl has no business inhaling. Groans and pants that have no place in a little girl’s ear.

Little girl’s dream filled with play and laughter, little girl’s reality filled unwanted touches. Sleep has been robbed with fear and quivering in hot temperatures. Watching shadows under her door, waiting for the now familiar shuffling of feet, the smell of activities of day. Little girl no longer sleeps or dreams but much rather prefers to stay in reality. She has the heart of a brave one, or is she just a coward? Some may say a scared little girl, but I think she is a sad little girl, because it is not only she that awaits these unwelcomed touches, but the throbbing that has now formed in-between her skinny thighs. This unknown liquid that presents itself when the toucher is present is new to her. I don’t think this little girl brave at all; neither do I think her scared. Watch as she arches her back to aid the toucher. This dance that takes place on top of her skinny frame she knows a little too well. Yes the aftermath on this little girl is saddening. Watching her body fold, trying to get every part of her within her bony arms, as she lets shame rock her back to sleep. When the throbbing and liquid disappears, the scales fall from her eyes and disgust stream down her cheeks.

The smell of fingers rest on the swells on her chest. When the dance is over swells begin to throb, but not like the exciting ones in between her thighs. These throbs are like pain. 


What is that feeling she gets when the dance gets faster and she feels everything else racing past? That feeling that makes her want to go faster, the feeling that makes her muscles tense and eyes go funny. She thinks it is like an electric shock, but not one that hurts. She can not explain it, but she knows it makes the throbbing go away, because after the 'shock' she no longer likes the toucher. She cringes away from fingers; the odd damp smell nauseates her. After the 'shock' hate is warmth.

Little girl’s dream filled with play and laughter, little girl’s reality filled with unwanted touches. But can touches be deemed unwanted if little eager fingers creep under night dresses and follow the damp smell? Can touches be deemed unwanted if little limbs mount on bodies twice their size? Little girl that has kept secrets without threats, little girl that has discovered the ‘shock’, the solution to her throbbing. Can they be deemed unwanted if skinny arms lock around the neck to steady themselves? This is a little girl that is not robbed of sleep but willing swaps it for reality. Can she be called ‘little’?

Turn The Page

Posted on 2:16 PM by Miss Euphoria Jade Oyatz | 0 comments

This is about a relationship that has lost its spark = a story that has come to the end.... It is my book and I am desperately trying to save my pages from my once writer/lover and his loss of talent.....he was meant to finish my story once and for all.

You said we don't have to turn the page, that the story had only just began,
And yet we've turned so many,
we're close to the end and I don't have another book!


I thought this was my last story,
so I stopped collecting books, I'm all out!
Now I'm quivering with fear.
I have become so dependent on this story and recently obsessed with saving my pages.
This is all I got!


Why'd I listen?
How could I have thought this was it, my last story.
How did I give it all up for this?
Nothing and no one is this confident and sure.
And I should have known from my library full of books with endless stories.
My past books should have highlighted these signs, they should have schooled me better than this.
But unfortunately I am still none the wiser.....


This story is starting to look like others.
Lines and style are no longer warm and promising,
More vague and senseless.
My pages stay still obediently, take these here lines...


Scribbles no longer send sensations to my spine.
The movements of your hands against my pages are loveless and absent minded,
They cause damage, rips, tears, jagged cuts.


What happened to you hand?
Your well crafted hand that would excite my pages?
What happened?
Do these pages no longer birth inspiration for you?
Have they lost the smooth caress they give your palms?
Has this become like every other page you've written on?
Do you blame me for your staleness?


If all these are the case, I beg of you please stop now
And save me some pages,
Something to console myself with, maybe I can finish my story with my own hand,
Maybe...
I beg of you put a stop to this mad writing for the sake of what it used to be.
Pen marks on pages like daggers in flesh.
Ink blots like blood stains appear.


You abuse me and mock me with your pointless letters.
Please stop!
Do not TURN THE PAGE!
No more!
Our story has ended long ago but you have become eccentric and neurotic!
Put an end to this madness and a start to my sanity
TURN NO MORE PAGES!

You and I

Posted on 5:39 PM by Miss Euphoria Jade Oyatz | 2 comments




As I sit and reminisce of what happened,
I feel the same way, unburdened inside and as light as air but oddly comfortable with my weightless satisfaction.

Eyes closed, mind deep in thought.
It all comes back to me, like a river rushing to fill its dry bed.
We had already played with the idea of you being here and now you are here, so why the scare?

I’ve found you and yet I’m hesitant. Doubts fly freely in my head of all that could go wrong.

You call my name and I’m back in reality.
My mind filled with thoughts, but no time, the time is now, time to make a decision.
I can’t deny that there is a longing there, but It could always be ignored .
Body and mind are in complete conflict.
It’s left to me, do i want this?

No time to think, the time is now.

Temperature rises with each passing second.

Longings getting stronger.
Fantasies slowly melt into reality.
Contemplations on seizing the moment arrive.

Bodies readily wrapped around each other.

It’s too hot to think.

Don’t lose consciousness now.

My body is heated up with desire, my mind with passion.
Your touch is firm and gentle.
Fingers trace invisible patterns on my back.

Brain freezes in shock.
Never has it been prepared to translate such passion.

Time appears to have come to a standstill, feeling of gravity being overruled
Everything seems to be afloat, but somehow we are still embedded in each other.

Motions begin to slow down.

Hands on my hips, strong and steady.

We are close now,

Heart beats are uneven but still in tune.
Lungs swell, trying to keep up with new rapid breaths.
Things get hotter still,
Sweat dribbles down my neck

The time is now.....

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