This song has resonated so deeply with me – I wish I had never heard it.
It’s beauty, depth and pain reflects my life and where I find myself day after day. Battling to keep afloat and alive. Constantly searching for a reason to live, for lost family and I keep getting the same results. Nothing. No one.
London Grammar – Strong
Do you want me to die? Cease to exist? Am I so toxic and putrid that you would rather see me fall deeper into the darkness – shoved in the back by you?
I don’t understand how, or why, people wish to a
inflict their own toxic, psychologically fucked up selves onto others.
Some days I feel like a butterfly – caught, trapped and pinned to the board – still breathing and alive. You have me where you want me – yet you hate me. You hate my ability to thrive with or without you. You hate that I still see the wounded child within your narcissistic, sociopathic crazy fucked up world.
You will keep trying to control me. To you it is a game. To me it could be the end of my life. Do you truly realise that the end result could be the death of me? That one day I may just shut down, stop avoiding your butterfly net.
How can people be so cruel to those they insist they care about?
I’m done playing.
Well too soon for me. Not soon enough for you.
I struggle – was my ego the right choice in keeping you alive? I sometimes regret it.
I know I’ll never try to control anyone ever again.
I can’t bring you back snd it kills me.
I can’t ask anyone about you because they too are dead.
I feel you around me, see you. I love you and miss you.
Reading this at the moment. Am in no state to write my own.
Review by Kara Nicholson for Readings
Jessie Tu has worked as a classical violinist, teacher and journalist. This is her first work of fiction and it is an astonishing debut. The lonely girl at the heart of this novel is Jena Lin. Jena’s grandfather was a famous pianist and child prodigy in China. In Australia, Jena was also once considered a child prodigy. By the age of fourteen she had won seven international violin competitions and the chance to play a solo with the New York Philharmonic at Carnegie Hall. During the performance she had a public meltdown and retreated from the limelight. Her grandfather always said that it was the destiny of the talented to suffer and to fulfill their excessive needs at any cost.
Now in her twenties, Jena lives in Sydney and has begun to play the violin again. She is auditioning along with her best friend for a permanent orchestral role in the Sydney Symphony Orchestra. Jena’s daily routine of practice and rehearsal is relentless, and she can be unpleasant and prickly. She also considers herself to be a sex addict. In the absence of the attention and acclaim given to a soloist musician she finds random sex with a variety of men almost as fulfilling. Her needs are excessive, but she will meet them at any cost.
Jena gets the job but loses her best friend in the process. She then meets Mark, who is in a long-term relationship with someone else. Mark is rich, middle aged, racist and sexist, but self-sabotaging Jena is drawn to him. She is lonely. There is such a disconnect between Jena Lin the gifted Australian violinist and Jena Lin the sex addict that the decisions she makes are heartbreaking. Jena then wins an internship with the New York Philharmonic and her life seems about to change for the better. She moves to New York just as Trump is elected and the experience is not quite what she expected.
This is a fascinating and intense debut that challenges systemic racism and misogyny, particularly in the progressive artistic world. It is confronting but it is also brilliant and original. Jessie Tu is an incredible new voice in Australian literature.
Lots of luv,
Lost, alone, don’t recognise me, don’t recognise you, don’t recognise anyone.
All I can do is keep moving, organising, dodging the bullets, avoiding reality, the knowledge erupting from the deepest core of my being.
Feeling nothing, feeling everything, feeling wrong, feeling bad, feeling sad, feeling completely and utterly alone and, yes, lonely. No drugs to dull the pain, to send me into blissful numbness – scared of losing a day, an hour, a minute. Yet I continue to lose track of days, reality and facts – leaving me more vulnerable to the black crows of death.
I was the secret keeper – so good at my job that I have even hidden them from me. But they are there, making their presence known, stirring themselves awake, slowly moving and growing bigger. They are tired of being bound to silence, to coffins full of dirt, to the very darkness that was once a safe place. The secrets threaten to destroy the very essence of this body, we are hanging on by the tips of our fingernails, slowly sliding down the cliff, nails ripped off, bleeding, unable to claw our way back up or to stop the fall.
Falling so silently – no one hears my screams, my cries of agony and loneliness. I’ve never been heard or saved – only pushed over the edge to be “caught” by the very person who pushed me to my limits.
I have nothing more to give. Nothing more to stop my world crumbling into the abyss. I yearn to curl up into a ball, screaming into my arms, crying until I have no more tears left until tomorrow. I need a safe place to fall apart – I’m not sure I’ll make it out alive.
The darkness within is unknown, yet felt deeply and painfully, with glimpses into the past horrors I cannot believe exist. The surreal feeling of being damaged, toxic goods, never good enough, easy to leave and being left constantly. My only consistent companions are the secret keepers and those that protect us – even when they hurt us.
We are screaming for help, yet requesting it quietly, with dignity, purpose and focus. As long as we continue to look like we are functioning we are ok. Yet the strength and energy required to keep up the facade has taken its toll – I am a husk, a shell of a person. Never been whole.
There is light at the end of the tunnel, a circus of merry-go-rounds that I don’t want to be on, rides I cannot get off, tunnels of pain, laughter, confusion and distorted mirrors. Is the light real? Or a kaleidoscope of images that lead nowhere except down the rabbit hole.
I may see you in the morning.
I may not.
Lots of luv,
Twins with Isabella. Attitude. Fuck you cunt. But god she’s a blast. You always know HellKat is nearby – her distinctive gravelly voice and laugh sounds more like a phone sex worker. And she knows it.
When HellKat is let loose she lashes out with intent to maim.
Knives and forks in cheeks
C’mon cunt. Bring it on.
HellKat is the same age as Isabella – 15 or 17? It’s unclear – but does it matter? They are both wise beyond their years and street smart. Always have each other’s back even when they intentionally through each other under the bus.
Survival of the fittest.
One day recently HellKat had a major aggressive rant, smashing things, calling the cutter names (HellKat hates the cutter. It took three of us to calm her on the therapy pod but she still managed to kick out. Hit out. Spit and hiss. She’s been triggered. – but we can’t remember why – oh that’s tight a long text to “x” when none of us wanted to send it.
Finally settled down with pink cashmere blanket wrapped around her on the special bean bag. We are still watching and wary but we know that she’s lost her spirit and can’t be fucked anymore.
For this hour or day or week she has nothing left to do. Nothing left to fight for, to keep safe because we are safe.
She hates the littlies coz they make her too vulnerable and no ones going to see her soft side.
She’s twins with Isabella- but where is she?
We keep losing time and vision.
The past is being shoved into the light regardless I’d we are safe to deal with the memories. So to cope we shut out and down.
Isabella is not even allowed to write a lot in her diary.
I see you.
You see me.
I love you.
You love me.
You see me.
I see you.
You lose me.
I lose you.
So Simple It Hurt.
In the blink of an eye it was over.
Almost before it had begun.
You know this is you and it’s true.
I lied when I said I loved you.
I needed you to hurt me.
If I hurt I wasn’t dead.
You were my escape into numbness.
Through you I self harmed.
You thought I was charmed by you.
I was always aware of your repulsive behaviour.
You allowed me to sink lower than ever before.
Pushing my head down when I tried to reach the surface and breathe.
I nearly drowned many times.
Drowning not waving.
You’d save me at the very last minute and I hated you.
But not as much as I hated myself.
Love in a strange place and time.
Surreal and real at the same time.
Holding on tight to the belief that I am worthy.
Worthy of your love.
Worthy of your soul.
It’s strange yet exhilarating.
I’m scared to let you in
Yet I yearn for your love
Seek out your touch and smell
I lean on you as never before
You sense my fear and stay still
Knowing me more than anyone ever before
You draw me closer
With warm tender words
Show me the real you
Trusting me with your beautiful soul
Begging me not to hurt you
I can’t promise that.
Please anything but that.
This cat has claws
Which swipe and scratch
When people venture too close
I hiss and scream and push away
Anyone who approaches my lair.
Yet you – Foxy – dared to enter
Into my space
One step at a time
You showed me what could be mine
If I dared to put the claws away
And turn to you fur standing on end
Back arched, hissing, yet moving closer
Despite my fear and almost against my will.
I find myself swept into your warm strong arms
Drawing me closer to you
Heart to heart
Eye to eye
Lips to lips
We kiss slowly and gently.
We hold each other carefully
Neither smothering or possessive
We hold our own space
Inviting each other into our world
With warmth, courage and trust.
Trusting that we will do no harm to each other
Trusting ourselves with each other’s heart and soul.
Your Grey stormy eyes see me.
The real me.
Never before have I felt so safe.
Your beautiful calm soul soothing my pain.
What have you got to gain?
What have I to offer other than pain?
When you turn to me,
Bedroom eyes drawing me in,
I want to hold you close,
Smother you In love and tenderness
Release your beautiful soul to be free
Knowing that you will come back to me.
This is a once off love.
Swept through our hearts and off our feet.
A love in strange times.
We fought it,
The timing was wrong,
Vulnerable and exposed
We had no choice but to give in.
When is love ever in the right time?
We whisper to each other
As we explore this precious treasure chest
Of laughter, hope, honesty and desire
We have no choice.
We have no chance
To put on hold our love and desire
So we enter the churning sea.
Staring deep into each other’s eyes
We jump off the cliff together.
Trusting we will land in wonderland
Made up of two – me and you.
I love you Foxy.
I love your smile,
Your shy approach
Hiding a strength that is deceiving
Your deep still waters calm my chaos
Your pure soul deserves love and passion
All that I have to give is yours.
I promise to try to not hurt us both.
I withdraw my claws,
Silence the hissing
Turn to you with arms held wide
Drawing you closer to me and my warm cocoon of love.
I will do my best to love you deeply, without restraint.
Rose coloured glasses removed to see you clearly and always.
Foxy – I love you no matter where we end up after this crazy, surreal and fucked up time is over. You deserve the sun, the moon, the stars – my world is a better place for having you in it.
You make me want to be a better woman
A better me
But mainly and importantly – for me.
Lots of luv,
Don’t stop swaying – Sophie B Hawkins