Olga's Poetry & Thoughts

What do you do when everything you have been working for For let's say, the good past eight years Goes up, up, up To reach a climax The tip of the rollercoaster The momentum The adrenaline That goes down, down, down and around In grooves and loops and exciting angles What happens when that climax Never comes? And you're left there, facing upwards, in a halt Simply trying to not fall back down to where you came from See, I've tried, I've really tried I've prayed, and I've bled and I've cried I thought I got better in all I did I improved my writing I improved my relationship building Busted my bad habit forming Achieved all the grades I wanted to Made friends, lost friends, travelled around Wrote a mammoth 40-page senior goddamn thesis Then I applied to my master's program and I got Waitlisted And the uphill battle came to a stop A deafening screech of the wheels Silence What now? Panic Well, I thought I was smart enough, pret...

Before I went to university, I thought the whole four-year experience would look something like this: And on the odd occasion, there would be a little bit of studying involved, like this: (Seriously, why are university students always smiling in the grass in all university pamphlets!?) But, my university experience pretty much looked like this: When I first started university, I was striving to be the best, and I was thriving after repeated failures, visits to the writing centre, visits to professor office hours, and countless hours spent studying. Now, I'm just surviving university. The eager motivation I had as a freshman, second year, and even third year student has now worn off. The illusion is gone: of endless partying, drinking, carefree nonsense... well sure, I did some of that too, but I always felt a perpetual guilt when I wasn't studying. I didn't settle for Cs, I aimed for Bs. Then I stopped settling for Bs and only accepted As. I pus...

As Father Snow turns the world blue-grey I think about tulips on a snowy day I think about Spring even though she is dead Father Snow captured her and tore off her head He transformed the world into ice and metal All beauty that remains is one tulip petal Each year the sad couple kisses again And the world is saved from frostbite and pain And the heart is kept from heavenly song If only for a moment, or not even so long For there will be a day when the tulips will prime In the middle of winter; it will be the time To surrender to the snow and humbly pray And allow the late Spring to show me the way When the heart is lost and the sky is grey I can only think about tulips on a sombre day

No, he didn't treat you like a friend, Because he neither cared for you nor took care of you when your heart bled. He didn't treat you like a lover, Because, like a werewolf, he turned into human form only in the sunlight, and he escaped before you could see, in its entirety, the beast that you had spent the night with. He didn't treat you like a God, Because he neither feared you, nor respected you. He didn't even try to disprove your very being. It was not even worth it. He was the one you called "home," honey I'm home, home sweet home, A home with a welcome mat stained with reminders that you are not his home, but his backyard, an old tire swing just for fun. You love thy neighbour, and forgive thy enemy, and bleed when his heart bleeds, But he does not exist. Opposite to a god, he fears himself, and disrespects himself, He is homeless, for fear of getting caught in the honey at the door, when he says, honey I'm home! Like a poor ...

The worst part of the day is when your teeth are brushed and your hygienic tasks are completed. Your work is done and you brain can't handle any more badgering from the world. The laptop is in sleep mode and the cell phone alarm is set to 8 am. This is the worst part of the day because, in the dune of time left between midnight and falling into a nightly coma, you are faced to deal with yourself. It is in this span of time that you forget about time at all.  You think about all the people you've talked to that day. You said good morning to the bus driver and you never saw him again. You split a lemon poppyseed muffin with your friend and you laughed together. You talked with the professor about his questionable teaching method. You explained to your cat that it's not proper etiquette to vomit into a food bowl. You said good night to your mother and texted bye to your lover and tweeted gnight world #peaceout .  Now, torn from the rest of the world, you suffer a sinist...

I can't believe I'm moving to Toronto. Okay, it's not that far away from Richmond Hill, but it's going to be a big change. I grew up in these neighbourhoods. I've been in Richmond Hill for nine years now and I don't even remember life outside of this town. I know these streets on the back of my hand. In a mere three days, I will be completely cut off from this wicked little town (minus the fact that I have a job here, different story). Today, I walked around Richmond Hill. Visited my old high school (the cramped hallways, the secret corridors and the back field... memories came flooding back). Took one last glance at Central Library (all those hours spent at the exam tables, "studying" for mediocre high school exams). Ordered one last meal at the renovated McDonald's on Bayview and Major Mackenzie (probably spent hundreds of dollars at that place on McChicken combos alone). Walked past my old house, the one my parents and I moved into when we f...