Starting out last Winter,
I began to write every week.
To a young boy in Iraq,
Who I was told was named Afeek.
I told him who I was,
And what I liked to do.
In a little less than a week,
He sent me a letter, too.
He was very funny and nice,
And soon became my friend.
Every week I'd get a letter,
And then write one to send.
Every day he'd play soccer,
Starting promptly at noon.
I wondered what life was like,
In his small city of Mamoon.
He always made me laugh,
And made good days out of bad.
It was like he knew just what to say,
Whenever I was down or feeling sad.
Afeek was a kid like me,
Who was trying to live and have fun.
We both liked girls and candy,
As well as an early morning run.
But one Friday after school,
I did not receive his letter.
I thought it would come tomorrow,
But I didn't know any better.
Early Saturday morning I sat,
Wondering if I should write him back.
When my dad walked in the kitchen,
And asked if I'd heard about the attack.
"The bombings in Iraq", he said,
In a tone that made him sound thrilled.
"Some city of Mamoon", he said,
"Forty injured and eighty killed".
Suffice to say I never heard,
From Afeek or his family again.
I wonder what our country's doing,
Going around killing all my friends.
The President speaks in a serious tone,
Spouting out fanciful diction.
It's just a shame Afeek was real,
And not a work of Fiction.
Thursday, June 22, 2006
Wednesday, June 21, 2006
In A Sec
Trudging through my day,
Partaking in the mundane,
I turn a corner and find you,
And my heart constricts in pain.
It ails because in that moment,
That brief one second of time,
I am overtaken by you,
And your ever-present shine.
In the first third of a millisecond,
My heart beats three times fast.
I wonder if yours does the same,
Or if it is me your looking past.
In the second third I see you move,
Raising an arm to wave me down.
I'm feeling acknowledged and pleased,
As my heart begins to drown.
In that last brief instant,
Before I go to say hello,
You manage to form a smile,
And it is then that I know.
I know that whatever else follows,
Will be a force with which to be reckoned.
I love each and every minute with you,
Even the first and longest second.
Partaking in the mundane,
I turn a corner and find you,
And my heart constricts in pain.
It ails because in that moment,
That brief one second of time,
I am overtaken by you,
And your ever-present shine.
In the first third of a millisecond,
My heart beats three times fast.
I wonder if yours does the same,
Or if it is me your looking past.
In the second third I see you move,
Raising an arm to wave me down.
I'm feeling acknowledged and pleased,
As my heart begins to drown.
In that last brief instant,
Before I go to say hello,
You manage to form a smile,
And it is then that I know.
I know that whatever else follows,
Will be a force with which to be reckoned.
I love each and every minute with you,
Even the first and longest second.
Forfeiture of Opportunity
I'm quietly sitting here,
And you're patiently sitting there.
I wonder, when will we be near?
I ask, exactly when and where?
It is probably from something unspoken I know,
That we probably feel the same way.
So when will either let it show,
It might be tomorrow but could've been today.
Maybe we're both waiting for a sign,
An indication that our intent is true.
But what if you will never be mine?
And if neither of us act on cue?
You will drift and wander away,
Where another world is said to be.
But it is here where I will always stay,
Even if your back is turned and you can't see.
And you're patiently sitting there.
I wonder, when will we be near?
I ask, exactly when and where?
It is probably from something unspoken I know,
That we probably feel the same way.
So when will either let it show,
It might be tomorrow but could've been today.
Maybe we're both waiting for a sign,
An indication that our intent is true.
But what if you will never be mine?
And if neither of us act on cue?
You will drift and wander away,
Where another world is said to be.
But it is here where I will always stay,
Even if your back is turned and you can't see.
Monday, June 19, 2006
Sunday, June 18, 2006
Here's Another For Charity...Or Something
Yes the tree does make a noise, and no it doesn't. I'm speaking of course about whether or not a tree makes a sound if it falls in the forest and no one is there to hear it.
Yes, it does, because science tells us within a 99.9% certainty that things occur even if we are not aware of them.
No, it doesn't, because sound that we can not hear may not exist at all. Anything outside of our immediate reality is taken for granted as existing.
The truth is we don't know if the tree makes a sound or doesn't. We could place a recorder in the woods, but that would be breaking the rules, since the recorder would be an extension of ourselves and our reality. We would like to believe the tree makes a sound since that makes the most sense to us, and we like things to be easy. We don't like to think that the tree doesn't make a sound. Truthfully we don't know the answer, but we are led to believe one over the other. We like to think that trees make sounds when they fall even if we aren't there. It is the easiest explanation and one that we can comprehend. It is confined within our normal boundaries of explaining and rationalizing to explain phenomenon. But if someone said that the tree -didn't- make a sound, they would have to prove it. Despite the fact that neither side can provide valid proof without some form of extending our perception of reality, the side that is considered right is the one that believes the tree makes a sound. The side that doesn't think it makes a sound is considered paranoid and crazy, even though they may respect the other side's opinion as an equally valid explanation as their own.
I ask, who is truly the crazy one?
Yes, it does, because science tells us within a 99.9% certainty that things occur even if we are not aware of them.
No, it doesn't, because sound that we can not hear may not exist at all. Anything outside of our immediate reality is taken for granted as existing.
The truth is we don't know if the tree makes a sound or doesn't. We could place a recorder in the woods, but that would be breaking the rules, since the recorder would be an extension of ourselves and our reality. We would like to believe the tree makes a sound since that makes the most sense to us, and we like things to be easy. We don't like to think that the tree doesn't make a sound. Truthfully we don't know the answer, but we are led to believe one over the other. We like to think that trees make sounds when they fall even if we aren't there. It is the easiest explanation and one that we can comprehend. It is confined within our normal boundaries of explaining and rationalizing to explain phenomenon. But if someone said that the tree -didn't- make a sound, they would have to prove it. Despite the fact that neither side can provide valid proof without some form of extending our perception of reality, the side that is considered right is the one that believes the tree makes a sound. The side that doesn't think it makes a sound is considered paranoid and crazy, even though they may respect the other side's opinion as an equally valid explanation as their own.
I ask, who is truly the crazy one?
/sigh
The glass is half-empty if you are in the process of decreasing the amount of liquid in the glass. It is half-full if you are in the process of filling the glass. Thus the last action that you took - whether filling or emptying the glass - determines which term to use. If you have an empty glass and fill it to the middle, it is half-full because the last thing you did was fill the glass. It would make no sense to call something half-empty, and thereby giving it an emptiness quality trait, when in actuality its existence as a glass with water at the middle point was brought forth by filling it, and not emptying it. If a glass has liquid at approximately the half-way point and someone takes a tiny sip of it, it is being emptied, and thus is half-empty. If someone adds a tiny drop of water to it instead, it is considered half-full, since it is in the process of being filled.
Once again, saying a glass is half-empty after filling it with something is both illogical and nonsense. The liquid inside of the glass exists based on two actions - emptying and filling. The action which has most recently taken place takes precedence in arriving to a conclusion. Therefore the real question is in what way was the liquid inside of the glass altered last, was it emptied or filled? If someone asks whether the glass is half-full or half-empty, ask them in what way it was altered last. If they don't know, then ask for the five seconds of your life back. If they said they had consumed half of it, then say it is half-empty. When they say that means you're a depressed person, slap them.
Once again, saying a glass is half-empty after filling it with something is both illogical and nonsense. The liquid inside of the glass exists based on two actions - emptying and filling. The action which has most recently taken place takes precedence in arriving to a conclusion. Therefore the real question is in what way was the liquid inside of the glass altered last, was it emptied or filled? If someone asks whether the glass is half-full or half-empty, ask them in what way it was altered last. If they don't know, then ask for the five seconds of your life back. If they said they had consumed half of it, then say it is half-empty. When they say that means you're a depressed person, slap them.
Sunday, June 11, 2006
Short Stories Blog
www.butterfly-high.blogspot.com
Putting some short stories based on a high school theme on this blog. Not sure how many I'll make, so check it out periodically.
Recently Added: Third Period History, Subculture
Next to come: Whenever I think of it
Putting some short stories based on a high school theme on this blog. Not sure how many I'll make, so check it out periodically.
Recently Added: Third Period History, Subculture
Next to come: Whenever I think of it
Would You...?
Would you paint a thousand portraits,
Even if no one gave you praise?
Would you write me pretty poetry,
Even if I hadn't seen you in days?
Would you give a beggar food,
Even if no one was there to call you nice?
Would you hug a crying fool,
Even if a pat on the back would suffice?
Would you give your time to others,
Even if your time is running out?
Would you lend a helping hand,
Even if you didn't know what the help was about?
Would you offer your seat to an elder,
Even if it meant you couldn't sit?
Would you make a promise to a child,
Even if you knew you wouldn't keep it?
Would you pretend to be someone else,
Even if you knew no one was fooled?
Would you lie to a priest in Church,
Even if over your life he ruled?
If not, then ask,
Why try at all?
Why dream without purpose,
And end up destined to fall?
Even if no one gave you praise?
Would you write me pretty poetry,
Even if I hadn't seen you in days?
Would you give a beggar food,
Even if no one was there to call you nice?
Would you hug a crying fool,
Even if a pat on the back would suffice?
Would you give your time to others,
Even if your time is running out?
Would you lend a helping hand,
Even if you didn't know what the help was about?
Would you offer your seat to an elder,
Even if it meant you couldn't sit?
Would you make a promise to a child,
Even if you knew you wouldn't keep it?
Would you pretend to be someone else,
Even if you knew no one was fooled?
Would you lie to a priest in Church,
Even if over your life he ruled?
If not, then ask,
Why try at all?
Why dream without purpose,
And end up destined to fall?
Wednesday, June 07, 2006
60 Seconds or Less
Unrhyming poetry.
I've read Stephen King novels,
exhilarating, enthralling.
Full of intellect,
And over one-thousand pages long.
I've unleashed the beast within,
Slathered in inebriation.
Heavy metal pounding off my chest,
Leaving a ringing in my ears.
I've downloaded soft vocal tracks,
Of sentimental nature.
Soft and caressing,
To a delicate and nurturing soul.
[A stanza used to be here but I took it out because I didn't like it].
I've read science fiction books,
Like Harry Potter and The Golden Compass.
Releasing the child somewhere inside,
And believing in magic once more.
I've fallen in love in an hour,
And out of it the next.
Now I'm waiting,
For love to fall in to me.
I've gone from a self-proclaimed agnostic,
To being a believer (of God),
In the short time span,
Of just a few weeks.
None of this is consistent,
But it is all me.
A Me,
That I wouldn't trade for anything.
I've read Stephen King novels,
exhilarating, enthralling.
Full of intellect,
And over one-thousand pages long.
I've unleashed the beast within,
Slathered in inebriation.
Heavy metal pounding off my chest,
Leaving a ringing in my ears.
I've downloaded soft vocal tracks,
Of sentimental nature.
Soft and caressing,
To a delicate and nurturing soul.
[A stanza used to be here but I took it out because I didn't like it].
I've read science fiction books,
Like Harry Potter and The Golden Compass.
Releasing the child somewhere inside,
And believing in magic once more.
I've fallen in love in an hour,
And out of it the next.
Now I'm waiting,
For love to fall in to me.
I've gone from a self-proclaimed agnostic,
To being a believer (of God),
In the short time span,
Of just a few weeks.
None of this is consistent,
But it is all me.
A Me,
That I wouldn't trade for anything.
Simple Haikus
Once again, some people say Haikus should only be about nature, and that its actually called something else (seriyu or something) when you do a 5-7-5 poem about something in normal life or whatever.
And once again, I don't really care :)
Dear Everyone
I can only be,
That which I have always been.
You don't like it? Leave.
Why?
'Cause I just don't care,
Even if you all leave me.
Atleast I'll have peace.
Peace?
Peace of mind once more,
Rather than trying to act,
Like someone I'm not.
And once again, I don't really care :)
Dear Everyone
I can only be,
That which I have always been.
You don't like it? Leave.
Why?
'Cause I just don't care,
Even if you all leave me.
Atleast I'll have peace.
Peace?
Peace of mind once more,
Rather than trying to act,
Like someone I'm not.
Cured
Every once a while,
Our eyes are opened wide.
So I won't miss this chance,
By sitting by on the side.
We only get the chance,
A couple times a year.
To let go of all our problems,
And everything we fear.
Something opens us up,
And gives us some insight.
And even though it is cliché,
It shows us a new light.
It might be a movie,
Or in this case a song.
Out of nowhere it cures,
Anything and everything that's wrong.
Another transformation begins,
And awakens my beast within.
Creating some miracles of Nature,
And some devils from men.
---
No idea if anyone will understand this. Oh well \(^_^)/
Our eyes are opened wide.
So I won't miss this chance,
By sitting by on the side.
We only get the chance,
A couple times a year.
To let go of all our problems,
And everything we fear.
Something opens us up,
And gives us some insight.
And even though it is cliché,
It shows us a new light.
It might be a movie,
Or in this case a song.
Out of nowhere it cures,
Anything and everything that's wrong.
Another transformation begins,
And awakens my beast within.
Creating some miracles of Nature,
And some devils from men.
---
No idea if anyone will understand this. Oh well \(^_^)/
Monday, June 05, 2006
Alone For a Night
She's got the house to herself,
Sitting quietly in her room.
Hoping that someone will come,
To take her away very soon.
A man enters stealthily,
But she does not put up a fight.
And he whisks her off her feet,
Deep in to the night.
Where was she going?,
She couldn't see it was so dark.
An abandoned warehouse for two,
Or a night-time stroll in the park?
Would he make her a true woman,
And expose a hidden intent?
Or drown her in a sea,
Where all ex-lovers are sent?
She thought back to her room,
Where praying is all she would do.
Praying this man would come,
And give her an 'I love you'.
---
Since I'm afraid no one understands what I'm trying to say most of the time, I thought I'd break this one down.
This poem is about a woman in her home who is wishing for the true love of her life to come walking through her door. A man comes in to her house, and dreamily 'whisks her off her feet'. Both we the reader and the woman are wondering if she is being kidnapped or something else. She can't tell if she's going to be taken to an abandoned warehouse (where she will most likely be raped and/or killed) or for a stroll in the park (a romantic thing, with someone you love). She wonders if she will fall in love with the man in one night and make love to him (make her a true woman), and by doing so confessing his own feelings (exposing a hidden intent). She compares this to drowning in a sea (something a kidnapper/murderer would do), but blends it back with the thought of having a lover (this "sea of ex-lovers" is the love that people once had for someone else. Much debate is taken place on what happens to love after it is gone, and where it goes). The woman thinks back to her room where she was praying to God for a person in life that she could have loved and also be loved in return. Taking in to consideration God's mercy, and also his mysterious patterns of intricacy, the man is to be guessed to supposedly be a man that the woman will fall in love with, and live happily ever after. When contrasted with the horrible fate that could've befallen her, however, we ask ourselves if such miracles can truly happen in life. Two people can wish to have something mutual, but if it is never expressed (certainly not by anything as extreme as barging in to someone's house, even if that is wished for by both parties) then it will never be.
Sitting quietly in her room.
Hoping that someone will come,
To take her away very soon.
A man enters stealthily,
But she does not put up a fight.
And he whisks her off her feet,
Deep in to the night.
Where was she going?,
She couldn't see it was so dark.
An abandoned warehouse for two,
Or a night-time stroll in the park?
Would he make her a true woman,
And expose a hidden intent?
Or drown her in a sea,
Where all ex-lovers are sent?
She thought back to her room,
Where praying is all she would do.
Praying this man would come,
And give her an 'I love you'.
---
Since I'm afraid no one understands what I'm trying to say most of the time, I thought I'd break this one down.
This poem is about a woman in her home who is wishing for the true love of her life to come walking through her door. A man comes in to her house, and dreamily 'whisks her off her feet'. Both we the reader and the woman are wondering if she is being kidnapped or something else. She can't tell if she's going to be taken to an abandoned warehouse (where she will most likely be raped and/or killed) or for a stroll in the park (a romantic thing, with someone you love). She wonders if she will fall in love with the man in one night and make love to him (make her a true woman), and by doing so confessing his own feelings (exposing a hidden intent). She compares this to drowning in a sea (something a kidnapper/murderer would do), but blends it back with the thought of having a lover (this "sea of ex-lovers" is the love that people once had for someone else. Much debate is taken place on what happens to love after it is gone, and where it goes). The woman thinks back to her room where she was praying to God for a person in life that she could have loved and also be loved in return. Taking in to consideration God's mercy, and also his mysterious patterns of intricacy, the man is to be guessed to supposedly be a man that the woman will fall in love with, and live happily ever after. When contrasted with the horrible fate that could've befallen her, however, we ask ourselves if such miracles can truly happen in life. Two people can wish to have something mutual, but if it is never expressed (certainly not by anything as extreme as barging in to someone's house, even if that is wished for by both parties) then it will never be.
Sunday, June 04, 2006
Who Will I Be Today?
More unrhyming poetry.
When it comes to others I ask,
Who will I be today?
Bold and daring, shy and weak?
It seems to change so fast.
It's painful by myself,
When I have no form or shape.
But often in the company of strangers,
I feel afraid to let it show.
People tell you to be yourself,
And forget those who don't like you.
Yet when support is what you're lacking,
Facing rejection can be lethal.
I feel sorry for others most of all,
Who are trying to get closer.
I wish to tell them to step inside,
Where I am eagerly awaiting them.
Yet I know in the end,
It is ultimately up to me.
To go out and find them,
And try to make a friend.
Will this fear overcome me,
And my ability to step forward?
Will it hold me back and away,
From perhaps finding the best thing in my life?
Maybe it would be better,
If I knew how long I had.
So I'd have no regrets of being me,
And living my one and only life.
People weren't meant to live alone,
But in the company and arms of others.
So it is for these others I seek,
To help me live and love.
When it comes to others I ask,
Who will I be today?
Bold and daring, shy and weak?
It seems to change so fast.
It's painful by myself,
When I have no form or shape.
But often in the company of strangers,
I feel afraid to let it show.
People tell you to be yourself,
And forget those who don't like you.
Yet when support is what you're lacking,
Facing rejection can be lethal.
I feel sorry for others most of all,
Who are trying to get closer.
I wish to tell them to step inside,
Where I am eagerly awaiting them.
Yet I know in the end,
It is ultimately up to me.
To go out and find them,
And try to make a friend.
Will this fear overcome me,
And my ability to step forward?
Will it hold me back and away,
From perhaps finding the best thing in my life?
Maybe it would be better,
If I knew how long I had.
So I'd have no regrets of being me,
And living my one and only life.
People weren't meant to live alone,
But in the company and arms of others.
So it is for these others I seek,
To help me live and love.
Speechless
If you have about an hour and twenty minutes free, watch this video.
http://video.google.com/videoplay?docid=-8260059923762628848&q=911+loose+change
I watched it last night because I was bored.
http://video.google.com/videoplay?docid=-8260059923762628848&q=911+loose+change
I watched it last night because I was bored.
Friday, June 02, 2006
A Yearning
How heavy is your heart?
Mine weighs about a ton.
It's always reaching out,
Reaching like the sun.
But its rays go unnoticed,
And vanish in to space.
To distant lands of darkness,
A forsaken and lonely place.
Here and there they graze a star,
But it will not belong to me.
That love is meant for another soul,
Which will summon my jealousy.
I cannot buy it and I cannot dream,
To possess this crafty devil.
All I do is stare at others,
Who love on a different level.
Each part makes it whole,
I want to give each one a chance.
From the carnal passion of love,
To a beautiful romance.
But alas I dream in futility,
For dreaming is all I shall do.
When hope shines a ray on me,
I can only sit back and rue.
Perhaps if I was a sinner,
I'd be a bit more closer to Hell.
But atleast I'd feel a little love,
And have an "I love you" to tell.
Mine weighs about a ton.
It's always reaching out,
Reaching like the sun.
But its rays go unnoticed,
And vanish in to space.
To distant lands of darkness,
A forsaken and lonely place.
Here and there they graze a star,
But it will not belong to me.
That love is meant for another soul,
Which will summon my jealousy.
I cannot buy it and I cannot dream,
To possess this crafty devil.
All I do is stare at others,
Who love on a different level.
Each part makes it whole,
I want to give each one a chance.
From the carnal passion of love,
To a beautiful romance.
But alas I dream in futility,
For dreaming is all I shall do.
When hope shines a ray on me,
I can only sit back and rue.
Perhaps if I was a sinner,
I'd be a bit more closer to Hell.
But atleast I'd feel a little love,
And have an "I love you" to tell.
Friday, May 26, 2006
Separate Blog
http://just-another-angel.blogspot.com/
Proofreading not guaranteed.
Prologue: 5/29/2006
Chapter 1: 5/29/2006
Chapter 2: 5/30/2006
Chapter 3: 5/31/2006
Chapter 4: 6/1/2006
Chapter 5 (P1): 6/2/2006
Chapter 5 (P2): 6/2/2006
Chapter 5 (P3): 6/3/2006
Final Chapter: 6/3/2006
Proofreading not guaranteed.
Prologue: 5/29/2006
Chapter 1: 5/29/2006
Chapter 2: 5/30/2006
Chapter 3: 5/31/2006
Chapter 4: 6/1/2006
Chapter 5 (P1): 6/2/2006
Chapter 5 (P2): 6/2/2006
Chapter 5 (P3): 6/3/2006
Final Chapter: 6/3/2006
Thursday, May 25, 2006
What form of monster have I become?
Like a routine I live my life in a fashion where everything is expected. Locked away, far out of the influences of others, I convince myself that I am living this life for myself. Yet I know that the deepest wishes that I possess will never be fulfilled unless I change my life. Yet letting go of this past is perhaps the hardest thing that I will ever have to do. Yet if I don't, I see no end in sight. I see no end to it consuming me daily, until in the end I am left with an empty shell - lifeless and void.
I'm trying to make the choice but I don't know if I have the courage to go through with it. Just once I'd like someone other than my sister, mother, aunt, or any other family member to give me support. I appreciate their's, but just like the addiction that consumes me, every sensation loses its impact after repeated use. Honestly I can't say I want help from them anymore. That may sound harsh, but I don't know any other way to put it. I don't want help from people they think can help me, either. I'm stuck in a rather bad routine of living, and I don't see how I'm going to break out of it. There must be something I can give myself towards 100% that won't consume me the way that this has.
Somewhere along this long road I've forgotten what it means to live. It has been an emotional struggle and I'm tired of fighting this losing battle. I've lost many things, including my sanity at times, as well as my heart. I've been lost in the dark pits of obsession, as well as greed. I've been overjoyed one day, only to be shot down the next by the slightest little occurence. I've cried for people that have probably forgotten me. I possess memories that fail to die, and end up consuming what little humanity I have left. I simply cannot shed that which has created me in to what I am today.
I'm trying to make the choice but I don't know if I have the courage to go through with it. Just once I'd like someone other than my sister, mother, aunt, or any other family member to give me support. I appreciate their's, but just like the addiction that consumes me, every sensation loses its impact after repeated use. Honestly I can't say I want help from them anymore. That may sound harsh, but I don't know any other way to put it. I don't want help from people they think can help me, either. I'm stuck in a rather bad routine of living, and I don't see how I'm going to break out of it. There must be something I can give myself towards 100% that won't consume me the way that this has.
Somewhere along this long road I've forgotten what it means to live. It has been an emotional struggle and I'm tired of fighting this losing battle. I've lost many things, including my sanity at times, as well as my heart. I've been lost in the dark pits of obsession, as well as greed. I've been overjoyed one day, only to be shot down the next by the slightest little occurence. I've cried for people that have probably forgotten me. I possess memories that fail to die, and end up consuming what little humanity I have left. I simply cannot shed that which has created me in to what I am today.
Friday, May 19, 2006
So He Sat Me Down And Said...
That he didn't possess the will to live. An immediate response to this might be: Why? I didn't jump the gun, however, since I wasn't fully within my rights to do so. After a while though, I began to wonder myself, why a person would lose the will to live. Perhaps some complex combination of an ongoing lifestyle with mental health issues. The fact that I do not know these problems makes it easier for me to try and find a solution.
I'm actually a little distressed at taking on this task. Thousands of people are certified to make psychoanalysis diagnosis on people, and I'm just one person with no training or anything of the sort. But it is at times like this that I hope a small shred of wisdom will come before learned responses to text in a book. I would hope that the faith this person put in me would be based on who I am, and not the evaluations I have undergone to warrant giving out my help.
So I ask myself the question once more: Why would a person lose the will to live? First, I have to ask myself what does it mean to have the will to live? I suppose one way of seeing it could be able to look forward to something in the future. Having hope that you will make it through any storm that comes your way, and have the sun shine through once more. Being able to pull yourself through any hard situation or dilemma and overcome staggering odds that you cannot begin to comprehend as imaginable. Perhaps these things are what it means to have the will to live. Still, I think that the permanence of the will itself is grounded in the lives of others. This is where I think this dilemma takes place.
All the problems that people have with themselves stem in some way from someone else. There are biological disorders to be sure, but for me it is very hard to blame everything on something biological. Saying that you are depressed simply because it is the way God made you is nonsense in my eyes. I believe that everybody has the ability to overcome any trials that stand in their way. Life is a continuing process of overcoming problematic periods and difficult days. Life is not an entirely enjoyable experience, as I've stated before. People who look too deeply in to trying to find some truth to things often get lost in the world, where they ultimately feel alone.
Loneliness is perhaps the biggest part of losing a will to live. When a person feels as if there is no one in the world to understand, comprehend, or relate to their feelings, they feel alone in the world. The ironic part of this is that there are more of these people than meets the eye. People hide the fact that they feel lonely inside, and so therefore fail to meet other people like themselves. One can blame spiritual loneliness on many things. They can blame it on shyness, on the ignorance of others, or on external factors such as having bad friends as a child. But in the end, the only people who are in control of our lonely status are ourselves.
We continue to live in a life where the biggest person who can change it is ourselves. Often times we lose sight of this fact, and live through others, or for others. We try to do things to meet the expectations of others, and not ourselves. We live in such a way that is to benefit others or improve the opinion others have of us. Living in such a way will lead one to lose the true reason behind living. It isn't about the others in this world. It is about you. The individual - the self - that has control and power to change the environment and perceptions within it.
Stop saying that you can't. Stop telling yourself you won't. Stop living in a life where the best thing you can do is tell yourself you shouldn't.
No matter how brutal or intimidating the storm you will always make it through to the other side, where the sun awaits you to shine.
Sunday, May 14, 2006
Saturday, May 13, 2006
45567
She's so vulnerable,
Lieing there in her bed.
Passed out and away,
While dreaming occurs in her head.
Vulnerable to what,
I still don't quite know.
Perhaps by getting closer,
She'll allow it to show.
The world continues on,
While she is passed out.
But she'll never hear your cries for help,
Not even if you shout.
She's luckier than she knows,
She can get whatever she requires.
But there are things in life I'll never get,
No matter how hard I desire.
Lieing there in her bed.
Passed out and away,
While dreaming occurs in her head.
Vulnerable to what,
I still don't quite know.
Perhaps by getting closer,
She'll allow it to show.
The world continues on,
While she is passed out.
But she'll never hear your cries for help,
Not even if you shout.
She's luckier than she knows,
She can get whatever she requires.
But there are things in life I'll never get,
No matter how hard I desire.
Monday, May 08, 2006
To Protect Something
To protect something that you love is perhaps the greatest gift that God gave to humans. We are able to give our only life that has been given to us, in order to prolong the lives of others. We can do this not only because it is the way we have evolved, but because many of us are naturally good creatures. I will use this space to encourage you to find something in life that you will protect with your life. This will be something that means more to you than your life.
If you cannot think of such a thing, that does not mean that you are selfish. It simply means that you have not lived enough yet. I believe that finding such an object in your life is a part of going through life. Everyone should have someone or something that they are willing to lay down everything for. Soldiers do it for their country, parents have done it for their children, and lovers have done it for lovers.
Would you die today for someone that you love? Does there exist an individual that you would give your life for, to know that they could continue living? Perhaps there never will be such a person in your life, or perhaps that person will never know. But to protect that which you love with that which you use as a means to live, is not a power given to the weak. A goal that I want everyone to have, is to find something they wish to protect, and protect it with their lives.
Without anything worth giving your life for, you have nothing to protect. Without anything to protect, you live to exist. If you live to exist, then you have already lost sight of what it means to live. Living is not about breathing air, eating food, and having your heart pump blood. It is about the constant realization of the changing state of the universe, and your efforts to force that change to go in a positive direction. You can do this by protecting things which are dear to you, and protecting them with your life. There are people who read this that I would die for, and they will never know.
It is not selfish to not want to die by protecting something or someone else. It is human nature to want to live. It is upon freeing yourself from this fear however, that you truly begin to live. I am not saying that people will completely free themselves from the fear of dying. This fear innately comes with the hearts and minds that we possess. It is knowing that your death will not come without some sort of purpose or meaning, and that your passing will merely cue the continuance of something much greater. This continuance of life will always exist so long as there are people out there who wish to protect something or someone.
What do you wish to protect?
Love?
Pride?
Honor?
Or perhaps...
A life,
with your own.
If you cannot think of such a thing, that does not mean that you are selfish. It simply means that you have not lived enough yet. I believe that finding such an object in your life is a part of going through life. Everyone should have someone or something that they are willing to lay down everything for. Soldiers do it for their country, parents have done it for their children, and lovers have done it for lovers.
Would you die today for someone that you love? Does there exist an individual that you would give your life for, to know that they could continue living? Perhaps there never will be such a person in your life, or perhaps that person will never know. But to protect that which you love with that which you use as a means to live, is not a power given to the weak. A goal that I want everyone to have, is to find something they wish to protect, and protect it with their lives.
Without anything worth giving your life for, you have nothing to protect. Without anything to protect, you live to exist. If you live to exist, then you have already lost sight of what it means to live. Living is not about breathing air, eating food, and having your heart pump blood. It is about the constant realization of the changing state of the universe, and your efforts to force that change to go in a positive direction. You can do this by protecting things which are dear to you, and protecting them with your life. There are people who read this that I would die for, and they will never know.
It is not selfish to not want to die by protecting something or someone else. It is human nature to want to live. It is upon freeing yourself from this fear however, that you truly begin to live. I am not saying that people will completely free themselves from the fear of dying. This fear innately comes with the hearts and minds that we possess. It is knowing that your death will not come without some sort of purpose or meaning, and that your passing will merely cue the continuance of something much greater. This continuance of life will always exist so long as there are people out there who wish to protect something or someone.
What do you wish to protect?
Love?
Pride?
Honor?
Or perhaps...
A life,
with your own.
Flames
It's funny who ends up teaching you things. Sometimes they aren't even real people, but just creations of a mind that far surpasses yours. Who taught me, and what did they teach me? That is far too big a question to answer in one night.
Instead I'd like to ask a question that maybe you've thought about, or perhaps you've just passed off as common knowledge. Why do people give up? Is it because they've reached a point where trying no longer holds meaning? Is it because they do not care deeply enough for what they are fighting? Is it because to go on any longer would be too painful?
I suppose loneliness goes hand in hand with giving up on things in life. When you no longer have support of friends, you no longer have motivation to continue. Everyone in life relies upon other humans for some sort of purpose. Normally it is to help keep each other sane and feel alive. We use others to validate our existence in the world. Without others, we would be lost souls on this world. So naturally, when others abandon us, or when we abandon others, we give many things up. When we are alone we are scared, timid, and fearful. We are afraid that we will remain that way forever, and so we cower with the fear that nothing will ever change. With that knowledge we force things to change by giving things up, and quitting.
Even deeper than the role of others on giving up is the role of the self. Being able to motivate oneself is a difficult task to accomplish. And don't think that it ever comes without some support from other people, either. Self motivation is always the result of reinforced and applied support through friends. You can never accomplish the greatest feats in life without the use of friends. Your friends can only take you so far, however. They can push you right up to the bar, but it is your job to go the final mile. You ultimately walk the last leg of every race on your own. No one can walk this for you. While supported through friends, you must have the inner strength to accomplish that which your heart desires.
We move on through life often times spending more time asking questions than finding answers. Why is this? Why do we always ask ourselves questions about life, but rarely go out to seek the answers? Why do we give up on finding the answers of life? Why do we stop knowing what it means to live and give up on life, to float through existence as if time held no meaning?
You don't always have to give up, though. No matter what happens, you can continue moving forward. Even if it's on your own. Even if others tell you it's impossible. Even if no one has done it before, and you know that the odds are against you. You have the power to never give up, and continue to live, and not merely exist. You have the power within yourself to always and forever be the kind of person that you love. Life is no mystery. Its true answers lay right within your heart, which you have had to yourself all along. This individual power to always move on, and never give up, both roars and diminishes through time.
The question you have to ask yourself...
Is will you roar,
Or diminish?
Instead I'd like to ask a question that maybe you've thought about, or perhaps you've just passed off as common knowledge. Why do people give up? Is it because they've reached a point where trying no longer holds meaning? Is it because they do not care deeply enough for what they are fighting? Is it because to go on any longer would be too painful?
I suppose loneliness goes hand in hand with giving up on things in life. When you no longer have support of friends, you no longer have motivation to continue. Everyone in life relies upon other humans for some sort of purpose. Normally it is to help keep each other sane and feel alive. We use others to validate our existence in the world. Without others, we would be lost souls on this world. So naturally, when others abandon us, or when we abandon others, we give many things up. When we are alone we are scared, timid, and fearful. We are afraid that we will remain that way forever, and so we cower with the fear that nothing will ever change. With that knowledge we force things to change by giving things up, and quitting.
Even deeper than the role of others on giving up is the role of the self. Being able to motivate oneself is a difficult task to accomplish. And don't think that it ever comes without some support from other people, either. Self motivation is always the result of reinforced and applied support through friends. You can never accomplish the greatest feats in life without the use of friends. Your friends can only take you so far, however. They can push you right up to the bar, but it is your job to go the final mile. You ultimately walk the last leg of every race on your own. No one can walk this for you. While supported through friends, you must have the inner strength to accomplish that which your heart desires.
We move on through life often times spending more time asking questions than finding answers. Why is this? Why do we always ask ourselves questions about life, but rarely go out to seek the answers? Why do we give up on finding the answers of life? Why do we stop knowing what it means to live and give up on life, to float through existence as if time held no meaning?
You don't always have to give up, though. No matter what happens, you can continue moving forward. Even if it's on your own. Even if others tell you it's impossible. Even if no one has done it before, and you know that the odds are against you. You have the power to never give up, and continue to live, and not merely exist. You have the power within yourself to always and forever be the kind of person that you love. Life is no mystery. Its true answers lay right within your heart, which you have had to yourself all along. This individual power to always move on, and never give up, both roars and diminishes through time.
The question you have to ask yourself...
Is will you roar,
Or diminish?
Sunday, May 07, 2006
A Thousand Things To Say
There's a thousand things I'd like to say,
From the hard "I love you" to the easy "Hey".
But I have not the courage to say either one,
So they call me shy, and they watch me run.
The truth is I say these things late at night,
Where there's no one to hear, and no one in sight.
I say them to my self, over and over again.
Don't know how I'll tell you, and also don't know when.
If only I had the courage to call you up somehow,
You might even be waiting, waiting for me now.
But how am I to say, the things I say at night,
When being in your presence, induces a shyful fright.
Some may say if it isn't natural, it wasn't meant to be,
But those others don't understand, or see what I see.
They don't feel the growing fear, of rejection in my heart,
There's a thousand things I'd like to say, but my lips fail to part.
From the hard "I love you" to the easy "Hey".
But I have not the courage to say either one,
So they call me shy, and they watch me run.
The truth is I say these things late at night,
Where there's no one to hear, and no one in sight.
I say them to my self, over and over again.
Don't know how I'll tell you, and also don't know when.
If only I had the courage to call you up somehow,
You might even be waiting, waiting for me now.
But how am I to say, the things I say at night,
When being in your presence, induces a shyful fright.
Some may say if it isn't natural, it wasn't meant to be,
But those others don't understand, or see what I see.
They don't feel the growing fear, of rejection in my heart,
There's a thousand things I'd like to say, but my lips fail to part.
The Truth About Life
What is the truth about life? The truth is that there is no truth. There is never one answer. There is never one explanation that is correct. There is only a set of explanations that a majority of people believe in and follow. How one person lives is different from another person. The reality that this person's life shapes for them is innately different from any other person's reality.
So big deal, people see the world as different. Why make a fuss about it? Because people are constantly asking why we are here, which religion they should follow, how they should live their lives, and what happens after they die. The answer to all of these questions is individual and unique. Not everyone believes the same things, and not everyone ever will. Through history, those who attempt to make everyone believe the same things do so by violence. Conformity, obedience, and forcefulness are never successful means of getting people to change against their will.
So why talk about it? Why waste time out of your life making you read this? I hope that you already know what The Truth is. I hope that you've already figured it out for yourself, and live by it. But many people have not figured it out, and lead empty lives until the day that they die. They live in a world that they will never understand, under a creator that they never understand. Religion is hypocritical and contradictory. It is a means of humans to give a valid purpose to life. I'm sure that you've heard this before. Many people call it horrible logic, some people call it rhetoric. Who is right? Everyone. You can't be wrong in believing something if that's what you're always taught to believe. If you're lead to believe something in life, and find that belief to hold truth, then it is your truth.
Everyone goes through their lives living in a way that they find suitable. And everyone does this task differently. Everyone has their own view and scope of the world. And this scope can be shifted as the person sees fit. Their truth of reality can change simply by how they view to perceive it. It can change daily, as I'm sure has happened in your life from time to time. There are thousands of biological explanations for these occurrences, but deep down there is no one Truthful Answer as to why we do this. As humans we are constantly changing what we believe is the truth. It is so fragile and thin, that people strive to know a deeper truth, when in reality, no such truth exists. They go throughout life meeting dead end after dead end, and end up frustrated. Life wasn't meant to have an end of the maze. There is no light at the end of the tunnel. The light has existed all along within your mind. It is up to you whether or not you choose to see it.
So big deal, people see the world as different. Why make a fuss about it? Because people are constantly asking why we are here, which religion they should follow, how they should live their lives, and what happens after they die. The answer to all of these questions is individual and unique. Not everyone believes the same things, and not everyone ever will. Through history, those who attempt to make everyone believe the same things do so by violence. Conformity, obedience, and forcefulness are never successful means of getting people to change against their will.
So why talk about it? Why waste time out of your life making you read this? I hope that you already know what The Truth is. I hope that you've already figured it out for yourself, and live by it. But many people have not figured it out, and lead empty lives until the day that they die. They live in a world that they will never understand, under a creator that they never understand. Religion is hypocritical and contradictory. It is a means of humans to give a valid purpose to life. I'm sure that you've heard this before. Many people call it horrible logic, some people call it rhetoric. Who is right? Everyone. You can't be wrong in believing something if that's what you're always taught to believe. If you're lead to believe something in life, and find that belief to hold truth, then it is your truth.
Everyone goes through their lives living in a way that they find suitable. And everyone does this task differently. Everyone has their own view and scope of the world. And this scope can be shifted as the person sees fit. Their truth of reality can change simply by how they view to perceive it. It can change daily, as I'm sure has happened in your life from time to time. There are thousands of biological explanations for these occurrences, but deep down there is no one Truthful Answer as to why we do this. As humans we are constantly changing what we believe is the truth. It is so fragile and thin, that people strive to know a deeper truth, when in reality, no such truth exists. They go throughout life meeting dead end after dead end, and end up frustrated. Life wasn't meant to have an end of the maze. There is no light at the end of the tunnel. The light has existed all along within your mind. It is up to you whether or not you choose to see it.
Wednesday, April 26, 2006
Passion
Take me by the hand,
And lead me towards my dreams.
So I can be lost in this life,
Where nothing is as it seems.
Just remember to be gentle,
While my soul continues to seek.
To love with this love that I love,
That carries me from week to week.
Something truly magical occurs,
In the world each and every day.
But nothing ever happens to me,
So I continue to sit and pray.
I'm praying for this passion,
To come and sweep me off my feet.
I'm tired of living an empty life,
The drum of my life the same old beat.
I have no true identity,
That I can call my own.
I am shaped by this world,
And what it to me has shown.
I'm running out of people to be,
So perhaps it's time for me to see.
That I can move on in to eternity,
Where you exist, waiting for me.
And lead me towards my dreams.
So I can be lost in this life,
Where nothing is as it seems.
Just remember to be gentle,
While my soul continues to seek.
To love with this love that I love,
That carries me from week to week.
Something truly magical occurs,
In the world each and every day.
But nothing ever happens to me,
So I continue to sit and pray.
I'm praying for this passion,
To come and sweep me off my feet.
I'm tired of living an empty life,
The drum of my life the same old beat.
I have no true identity,
That I can call my own.
I am shaped by this world,
And what it to me has shown.
I'm running out of people to be,
So perhaps it's time for me to see.
That I can move on in to eternity,
Where you exist, waiting for me.
Friday, April 21, 2006
Sometimes I wonder...
I wonder if two people who are destined to fall in love have ever stared at the same star in the sky, and asked themselves if they would ever find someone to be with. I wonder if they did this on the same night, at the same time, in the exact same moment. Perhaps they were continents apart, or cultures apart. Perhaps they speak different languages, and live their lives differently. But even still, their wish to fall in love remains the same, as they stare at the same star in the night sky, and make the same exact wish.
I wonder if they will ever meet, and if they will fall in love, or if something unexpected will happen. I wonder if they could pass each other on the street, and never know it. Oblivious to the love which is desperately trying to work between them. I wonder if they see what has appeared in front of them. Perhaps they are unable to see, and will forever be unable to see. Perhaps they will never get the chance in the first place. Perhaps the wish they both made on that night, will simply fade away with time, in to the infinitely growing depths of the past.
I wonder about all the people out there, who stare at the same sky, at the same star, on the same night, at the same moment. I wonder how many people out there, are staring at the stars, like me. I wonder how many might possibly be staring at the same star I'm staring at, on the same night I'm staring at it. Perhaps no such person exists. Perhaps they do, but I will never meet them. Or perhaps I have to find this person, so they can watch the stars with me, and I can make it true.
Or perhaps...
They never existed in the first place.
Nah...
Life is too miraculous for that.
I wonder if they will ever meet, and if they will fall in love, or if something unexpected will happen. I wonder if they could pass each other on the street, and never know it. Oblivious to the love which is desperately trying to work between them. I wonder if they see what has appeared in front of them. Perhaps they are unable to see, and will forever be unable to see. Perhaps they will never get the chance in the first place. Perhaps the wish they both made on that night, will simply fade away with time, in to the infinitely growing depths of the past.
I wonder about all the people out there, who stare at the same sky, at the same star, on the same night, at the same moment. I wonder how many people out there, are staring at the stars, like me. I wonder how many might possibly be staring at the same star I'm staring at, on the same night I'm staring at it. Perhaps no such person exists. Perhaps they do, but I will never meet them. Or perhaps I have to find this person, so they can watch the stars with me, and I can make it true.
Or perhaps...
They never existed in the first place.
Nah...
Life is too miraculous for that.
Thursday, April 20, 2006
I found myself staring at you, when...
You asked me what I was doing. Perhaps for a moment I found myself lost. Not lost within the beauty of your face, which is normally the case, but lost within the beauty of your person. Everyone goes through life, always searching for a person that will be special to them. I went so long feeling lost and alone, that once I finally found you, I didn't think that I could ever let go for any reason. That's why I find myself staring at you sometimes. I just get lost in how wonderful you are.
It isn't even about me when I stare at you absentmindedly. It's all about you, and what you stand for in my life. It isn't just a person who I can say that I love. It isn't just someone to keep me company, since without someone I am alone. I could have that kind of company at any point in my life, but I never wanted it. I always wanted to wait for the chance to get something much greater, and I hope that I have. No, I'm almost certain that I have. I'm almost certain that I've found you.
Everyone has their own opinions on what is needed to make it work, and tips for enduring long years with someone. Everyone has their own plan for a successful relationship with another person. But I don't think of any of that when I stare at you. I just stare at eyes which I once dreamed of, and a face that I often fantasized about endlessly. Time stands still in this state, and I find that the world spins around me underneath my feet. I don't even know how long it goes on for, since I am being swept away by who you are.
I wouldn't call this love that I feel when I stare at you. I feel that passively, now. I cannot quite describe it, which is why it probably intrigues me in such a way. I feel bad because I cannot confess this feeling that I have when I stare at you, and yet, I'm not sure either of us would understand if I did. Perhaps I'm reaffirming my existence in the world, an existence proven valid by you. People gain a reason to live through other people. Without other people, there would be no other reason to continue to go on. We rely on each other, and the kindness and love from one another, to thrive. So I rely on you to thrive, and I hope too, that you feel you can depend on me to be there for you. So that we can thrive together.
So I know you asked me why I was staring at you, and I know that this explanation was a little long, but that is why. That is why I stare at you, with my trance-like gaze and quizzical mouth which could be both a smile and grin all in one. That is why I stare. So I can even for just a moment out of the day, remember the person that I cherish most in this world. Remember the person which keeps future dreams alive, and buries past nightmares. Remember the person that, I hope, will always be there. To love, and also, to be loved.
It isn't even about me when I stare at you absentmindedly. It's all about you, and what you stand for in my life. It isn't just a person who I can say that I love. It isn't just someone to keep me company, since without someone I am alone. I could have that kind of company at any point in my life, but I never wanted it. I always wanted to wait for the chance to get something much greater, and I hope that I have. No, I'm almost certain that I have. I'm almost certain that I've found you.
Everyone has their own opinions on what is needed to make it work, and tips for enduring long years with someone. Everyone has their own plan for a successful relationship with another person. But I don't think of any of that when I stare at you. I just stare at eyes which I once dreamed of, and a face that I often fantasized about endlessly. Time stands still in this state, and I find that the world spins around me underneath my feet. I don't even know how long it goes on for, since I am being swept away by who you are.
I wouldn't call this love that I feel when I stare at you. I feel that passively, now. I cannot quite describe it, which is why it probably intrigues me in such a way. I feel bad because I cannot confess this feeling that I have when I stare at you, and yet, I'm not sure either of us would understand if I did. Perhaps I'm reaffirming my existence in the world, an existence proven valid by you. People gain a reason to live through other people. Without other people, there would be no other reason to continue to go on. We rely on each other, and the kindness and love from one another, to thrive. So I rely on you to thrive, and I hope too, that you feel you can depend on me to be there for you. So that we can thrive together.
So I know you asked me why I was staring at you, and I know that this explanation was a little long, but that is why. That is why I stare at you, with my trance-like gaze and quizzical mouth which could be both a smile and grin all in one. That is why I stare. So I can even for just a moment out of the day, remember the person that I cherish most in this world. Remember the person which keeps future dreams alive, and buries past nightmares. Remember the person that, I hope, will always be there. To love, and also, to be loved.
Wednesday, April 19, 2006
404.483.6127
There's nothing that you can't do.
The only person holding yourself back...is yourself.
Your reluctance to take action and move forward stems from uncertainty and a lack of confidence in your self.
You have one life to live. By being nervous or anxious, and not acting, you aren't living.
It will not matter tomorrow, in ten days, or after you die, what course of action you took.
So why should you worry about the outcome of following your heart?
Why do we delay, and hold ourselves back, when the answers to the riddles that plague us are right in front of us?
There's no reason to delay any more. There's nothing to be gained from going to the next level in life.
You can't do it alone. You'll need support. I'm not saying that I can give it to you, or that I'll want to give it to you.
But I've been inspired in some ways to help.
So if you need help.
Call me.
The only person holding yourself back...is yourself.
Your reluctance to take action and move forward stems from uncertainty and a lack of confidence in your self.
You have one life to live. By being nervous or anxious, and not acting, you aren't living.
It will not matter tomorrow, in ten days, or after you die, what course of action you took.
So why should you worry about the outcome of following your heart?
Why do we delay, and hold ourselves back, when the answers to the riddles that plague us are right in front of us?
There's no reason to delay any more. There's nothing to be gained from going to the next level in life.
You can't do it alone. You'll need support. I'm not saying that I can give it to you, or that I'll want to give it to you.
But I've been inspired in some ways to help.
So if you need help.
Call me.
Twilight
Am I awake, is this a dream?
Nothing here is at it seems.
Outside pounding is the rain,
Twilight crashing through my windowpane.
The pictures crowding in my mind,
The coming of dawn, the approach of time.
It comes with the day,
Words I'll never say,
I take a look,
My Twilight's gone away.
Is this real,
Is this a dream,
You let me feel,
What I've never seen.
I'll give you a moment,
Even if you meant to say goodnight.
So I can selfishly savor,
The beauty of the Twilight.
Nothing here is at it seems.
Outside pounding is the rain,
Twilight crashing through my windowpane.
The pictures crowding in my mind,
The coming of dawn, the approach of time.
It comes with the day,
Words I'll never say,
I take a look,
My Twilight's gone away.
Is this real,
Is this a dream,
You let me feel,
What I've never seen.
I'll give you a moment,
Even if you meant to say goodnight.
So I can selfishly savor,
The beauty of the Twilight.
Angry
I can't write, but I want too.
There's too many lights on in the room.
There's too many distractions. Too much movement.
Too many smells.
I read from some guy today on some website that a good writer can write anywhere, and if someone needs to be in a "zone" when they write, or in a particular environment, that they shouldn't be writing.
Only one thing I want to say at the moment.
Fuck that guy.
There's too many lights on in the room.
There's too many distractions. Too much movement.
Too many smells.
I read from some guy today on some website that a good writer can write anywhere, and if someone needs to be in a "zone" when they write, or in a particular environment, that they shouldn't be writing.
Only one thing I want to say at the moment.
Fuck that guy.
Monday, April 17, 2006
Simplicity...Anything But
I'm the desert,
Rough and dry.
You're the rain,
From the sky.
I'm the plant,
Who cannot run.
You give me life,
You are my sun.
I fall in to the deep,
Knowing I can't swim.
You grab my outstretched hand,
Before my fingers reach the brim.
Like a lost stray,
Searching the night for food.
You open up your door,
Greeting me with cheery mood.
A symbiosis of the heart,
If you feel the same in return.
I look in to the starry sky,
As my life becomes a nocturne.
Rough and dry.
You're the rain,
From the sky.
I'm the plant,
Who cannot run.
You give me life,
You are my sun.
I fall in to the deep,
Knowing I can't swim.
You grab my outstretched hand,
Before my fingers reach the brim.
Like a lost stray,
Searching the night for food.
You open up your door,
Greeting me with cheery mood.
A symbiosis of the heart,
If you feel the same in return.
I look in to the starry sky,
As my life becomes a nocturne.
Tuesday, April 11, 2006
Good-Bye, Friend
This is a good-bye from my heart,
So tired, worn, and jaded.
Because you were a friend to me,
And I feel obligated.
"See you some time soon,"
Is a lie I told myself that day.
I knew I wouldn't see you,
Until in my grave I lay.
Living in the past like this,
Thinking of who you are,
Blocks my future ahead,
And leaves my heart ajar.
Like a rain that has abandoned,
A dry and broken city of sand.
Granting a little bliss,
And then abandoning the desert land.
But the people in that city,
Now angered and full of jeers,
Can now cry because you left them,
And water their land with tears.
So tired, worn, and jaded.
Because you were a friend to me,
And I feel obligated.
"See you some time soon,"
Is a lie I told myself that day.
I knew I wouldn't see you,
Until in my grave I lay.
Living in the past like this,
Thinking of who you are,
Blocks my future ahead,
And leaves my heart ajar.
Like a rain that has abandoned,
A dry and broken city of sand.
Granting a little bliss,
And then abandoning the desert land.
But the people in that city,
Now angered and full of jeers,
Can now cry because you left them,
And water their land with tears.
Sunday, April 09, 2006
Wolves
A pack of wolves moves silently through a dark forest. Around eight in total, with three to four young pups. The male lead wolf guides them, about ten feet ahead. The move slowly, for they are in unknown territory. This thick Alaskan forest could hold many dangers, and if a wolf makes but one mistake, it is one mistake too many. They are playing Russian Roulette with five bullets.
As they are walking, the leader wolf continues with caution. Nothing seems out of place or wrong. There are no strange scents in the air, and everything seems oddly calm. Then, in a split and violent second, a trap latches around the wolf's leg, and holds him prisoner in agonizing pain. The wolves behind him begin to panic. A few male wolves come to his side, but the females flee in to other parts of the forest. The females run right in to traps that are waiting for them. One by one they run through rope loops hung up like invisible string. They are immediately suffocated when they continue to run after being caught up in these devices. The pups, running after their mothers, likewise meet the fate of several more traps strewn about the land.
In the span of about a minute the entire wolf clan was killed, save for two or three male wolves. These wolves must now continue to try and survive on their own, which will now be significantly harder. Their struggle has only begun, as they begin to form a new life.
---
The traps were set by men, who will skin the wolves and sell them so a rich person can be a little bit more comfortable.
As they are walking, the leader wolf continues with caution. Nothing seems out of place or wrong. There are no strange scents in the air, and everything seems oddly calm. Then, in a split and violent second, a trap latches around the wolf's leg, and holds him prisoner in agonizing pain. The wolves behind him begin to panic. A few male wolves come to his side, but the females flee in to other parts of the forest. The females run right in to traps that are waiting for them. One by one they run through rope loops hung up like invisible string. They are immediately suffocated when they continue to run after being caught up in these devices. The pups, running after their mothers, likewise meet the fate of several more traps strewn about the land.
In the span of about a minute the entire wolf clan was killed, save for two or three male wolves. These wolves must now continue to try and survive on their own, which will now be significantly harder. Their struggle has only begun, as they begin to form a new life.
---
The traps were set by men, who will skin the wolves and sell them so a rich person can be a little bit more comfortable.
Friday, April 07, 2006
Dogs
There's lots of people in my neighborhood with dogs. Almost everyone has a pet, but most of the people have dogs. Two of my neighbors in particular have very nice and friendly dogs. Chet, my neighbor to the left, has a cute little dog that he takes care of and loves alot. Gary, the guy across the street from me, has a dog too. Gary doesn't take very good care of his dog, though.
Chet always takes his dog out for walks, and lets him run freely through his yard, and chase squirrels and other animals around. Gary leaves his dog in an outside pen which is about the same size as my bathroom. I don't think he cleans it out but once a year, and his dog is always restless and cooped up. I feel bad for him sometimes. I think he might be jealous of Chet's dog since he is always seeing him run around in the yard across the street.
Just recently Gary bought one of those electric collars that shocks a dog when they try to run in to the street. After we finally told Gary that his dog needs to be let out more, he went the route which required the least effort on his part. We told him that the shocks hurt very badly, and that he should feel what it's like before putting it on his own pet, but he declined. Gary's dog could run around now, but if he ever went to far, he would fall to a shivering lump on the grass and just shake before standing up on wobbly legs.
One Sunday afternoon both dogs were out in their owner's respective lawns. A cat from a house down the street (Ms. Petersen I think it was) came running down the middle of the street. Chet's dog made a bee-line for it immediately, and was running way too fast for Chet to catch up. Gary's dog likewise took off, but after about ten feet he was well past his safe zone, and immediately crumpled to the ground. Since he was outside of the safe zone, he continued to get shocked. It wouldn't stop until he returned to the lawn. Chet's dog was still running after the cat. Then in the span of about three seconds, an SUV which avoided a stop sign ran right over Chet's dog, leaving it lying motionless on the pavement.
Chet's dog was bleeding and dead, and Gary's dog was being electrically tortured and alive. Chet ran to his dog, but immediately saw it was a lost cause. His dog was gone as soon as the SUV hit it. He ran over the Gary's dog, ripped the electric collar off, glared at Gary's house, and then let go of the dog. The dog ran back to his pen, where he would spend the remainder of his dog years - cooped up and (if at all possible for a dog) insane. Chet buried his dog in his backyard after giving is a proper funeral. There's even a little tombstone and everything.
Gary's dog always used to stare at Chet's dog, and I never knew what it was. I always thought it was jealousy. I always knew deep down that he wished he could be as free as that dog, to run around wherever he pleased. I wonder, does he still feel that way? Is Gary's dog the lucky one to be safe from danger, yet nearly imprisoned? Are the few years of joy that Chet's dog possessed more than Gary's dog's worth of life? Sometimes I ask myself, knowing the outcome beforehand, which dog I would rather be at birth. Would I bet Chet's dog, knowing that I'd die sooner than expected, but free for the period of life living? Or would I be Gary's dog, who I know would live a long life, but also one more or less entombed within a pen of wire mesh, too afraid to move out in to a world where the fear of danger is worse than death itself.
Which dog would you be?
Which dog are you?
Chet always takes his dog out for walks, and lets him run freely through his yard, and chase squirrels and other animals around. Gary leaves his dog in an outside pen which is about the same size as my bathroom. I don't think he cleans it out but once a year, and his dog is always restless and cooped up. I feel bad for him sometimes. I think he might be jealous of Chet's dog since he is always seeing him run around in the yard across the street.
Just recently Gary bought one of those electric collars that shocks a dog when they try to run in to the street. After we finally told Gary that his dog needs to be let out more, he went the route which required the least effort on his part. We told him that the shocks hurt very badly, and that he should feel what it's like before putting it on his own pet, but he declined. Gary's dog could run around now, but if he ever went to far, he would fall to a shivering lump on the grass and just shake before standing up on wobbly legs.
One Sunday afternoon both dogs were out in their owner's respective lawns. A cat from a house down the street (Ms. Petersen I think it was) came running down the middle of the street. Chet's dog made a bee-line for it immediately, and was running way too fast for Chet to catch up. Gary's dog likewise took off, but after about ten feet he was well past his safe zone, and immediately crumpled to the ground. Since he was outside of the safe zone, he continued to get shocked. It wouldn't stop until he returned to the lawn. Chet's dog was still running after the cat. Then in the span of about three seconds, an SUV which avoided a stop sign ran right over Chet's dog, leaving it lying motionless on the pavement.
Chet's dog was bleeding and dead, and Gary's dog was being electrically tortured and alive. Chet ran to his dog, but immediately saw it was a lost cause. His dog was gone as soon as the SUV hit it. He ran over the Gary's dog, ripped the electric collar off, glared at Gary's house, and then let go of the dog. The dog ran back to his pen, where he would spend the remainder of his dog years - cooped up and (if at all possible for a dog) insane. Chet buried his dog in his backyard after giving is a proper funeral. There's even a little tombstone and everything.
Gary's dog always used to stare at Chet's dog, and I never knew what it was. I always thought it was jealousy. I always knew deep down that he wished he could be as free as that dog, to run around wherever he pleased. I wonder, does he still feel that way? Is Gary's dog the lucky one to be safe from danger, yet nearly imprisoned? Are the few years of joy that Chet's dog possessed more than Gary's dog's worth of life? Sometimes I ask myself, knowing the outcome beforehand, which dog I would rather be at birth. Would I bet Chet's dog, knowing that I'd die sooner than expected, but free for the period of life living? Or would I be Gary's dog, who I know would live a long life, but also one more or less entombed within a pen of wire mesh, too afraid to move out in to a world where the fear of danger is worse than death itself.
Which dog would you be?
Which dog are you?
Guardian Angel
When I was just a young child, the other kids would used to always tease me. It was either my clothes, my hair, or the way I walked. I don't remember having any friends for a very long time. I just remember being very lonely and sad. Very sad for long periods of time. I was not good at talking with people, so I got made fun of. No one was there to stick up for me but myself, and I couldn't do it.
One time, while walking to class, I was "accidentally" tripped to the ground. I was carrying my books with both arms around them as if they were my child. They went flying across the ground when I fell. Some people stepped on them as they walked passed me, jerking their feet violently and ripping pages out of my books. Someone spit on the back of my head, and another person stepped on my fingers when I tried to get up. I had to bandage them for a few weeks until they healed back to normal.
One day in the lunch line, I was waiting to get my food. I liked that day because we were having pizza that day, and I liked pizza. Even if I got made fun of and laughed at, I was happy if we were having pizza. I stood in line with my lunch tray, and waited my turn in line. Someone behind me in line was laughing. I got my pizza, and decided I would treat myself to chocolate milk. Chocolate milk costs a little more, but I wanted to be extra happy today. I was walking to my table that I eat at alone, and someone hit the bottom of my tray with their hand. My food went flying and the milk spilled all over me. I went back to get another, but they were all out. The two kids behind me got all that was left, which was more than they could eat.
In gym class we run around outside usually. I ran with the other girls, and the boys ran with the other boys. The other girls made fun of me because I hadn't developed like they had. They laughed at me when we got in to our gym clothes. I tried not to blush. I don't think I succeeded. Sometimes we did this exercise where we use two long white poles and smash them together with a partner while someone jumps between them in the middle. I didn't like this exercise, because if your partner went too fast or delayed, you would smash your fingers, and it hurt alot. My partner would always be someone who did that, and I didn't like this game because I always ended up bruising my fingers very badly, or causing them to bleed.
I had one friend once in school. It was a girl named Sally. Sally was kind of nice to me, but I could tell she didn't want to be too nice. One day while we were out at gym, someone switched my school clothes with dirty sweatpants and a sweatshirt with something bad written on it. I got in trouble for wearing the shirt, and after that Sally never talked to me again.
---
Three dashes. That's what separates the past me from who I am explaining now. Three dashes. Just those three dashes explain how I came to be, and how I exist now. Those three dashes explain the trials I went through and the depression I suffered. They explain my resolve, and struggle to avoid killing myself to end my emotional pain and suffering. Those three dashes embody my self perserverance to continue to live, with hope as the only thing to hold on to. Hope that one day, I might meet a person who is nice to me. I look back, and see I was the kid that everyone picked on to make themselves feel better. There's always a kid like that, and I was that kid. But when I was so young, I didn't know such things, so I needed other ways to survive. And the hope that I would meet someone who liked me was that hope. The hope that a person might actually care about me.
In my freshman year of college I met that person. He was everything that I wanted in a friend. I did not and never did have courage about myself. He had that courage for me, within me. He showed me how to stand up for myself, how to defend myself, and how to love myself. He taught me how to enjoy life, and how to live. He taught me the things which most people take for granted. He taught me so many things about life and how it works, and what one should expect from life. I cherished my life from that moment on, and if I could I would thank him every day for the rest of my life. But I can't. I'm left with one final question I want to ask him, but I can't. I can't ask him why he killed himself.
I don't know the reason. I don't know his personal life. I don't know what events transpired in his life to lead him to such a decision. This person had taught me so much that I didn't know, and taken me so far above my previous heights. How could such a great person take their own life? Even I, who knew nothing about living, decided I would not take my life so long ago. Back when I was teased as a child, I still held on to hope. I never let go of that, despite what ignorance I possessed otherwise. But him...did he not have hope? Did he not have anything to live for? He seemed so wise beyond his years, yet at the same time hopelessly devoid of any real sense of purpose. Perhaps I was so busy accepting his help in trying to fix my life, that I didn't help him with his.
I don't really know what happened to him, or why. I don't even know where he was buried, or I would visit his grave every day if I could to thank him. He was an amazing person to helped me in the hardest part of my life, and for that I am forever grateful. He was, and always will be, my guardian angel.
Even if he didn't believe they exist.
One time, while walking to class, I was "accidentally" tripped to the ground. I was carrying my books with both arms around them as if they were my child. They went flying across the ground when I fell. Some people stepped on them as they walked passed me, jerking their feet violently and ripping pages out of my books. Someone spit on the back of my head, and another person stepped on my fingers when I tried to get up. I had to bandage them for a few weeks until they healed back to normal.
One day in the lunch line, I was waiting to get my food. I liked that day because we were having pizza that day, and I liked pizza. Even if I got made fun of and laughed at, I was happy if we were having pizza. I stood in line with my lunch tray, and waited my turn in line. Someone behind me in line was laughing. I got my pizza, and decided I would treat myself to chocolate milk. Chocolate milk costs a little more, but I wanted to be extra happy today. I was walking to my table that I eat at alone, and someone hit the bottom of my tray with their hand. My food went flying and the milk spilled all over me. I went back to get another, but they were all out. The two kids behind me got all that was left, which was more than they could eat.
In gym class we run around outside usually. I ran with the other girls, and the boys ran with the other boys. The other girls made fun of me because I hadn't developed like they had. They laughed at me when we got in to our gym clothes. I tried not to blush. I don't think I succeeded. Sometimes we did this exercise where we use two long white poles and smash them together with a partner while someone jumps between them in the middle. I didn't like this exercise, because if your partner went too fast or delayed, you would smash your fingers, and it hurt alot. My partner would always be someone who did that, and I didn't like this game because I always ended up bruising my fingers very badly, or causing them to bleed.
I had one friend once in school. It was a girl named Sally. Sally was kind of nice to me, but I could tell she didn't want to be too nice. One day while we were out at gym, someone switched my school clothes with dirty sweatpants and a sweatshirt with something bad written on it. I got in trouble for wearing the shirt, and after that Sally never talked to me again.
---
Three dashes. That's what separates the past me from who I am explaining now. Three dashes. Just those three dashes explain how I came to be, and how I exist now. Those three dashes explain the trials I went through and the depression I suffered. They explain my resolve, and struggle to avoid killing myself to end my emotional pain and suffering. Those three dashes embody my self perserverance to continue to live, with hope as the only thing to hold on to. Hope that one day, I might meet a person who is nice to me. I look back, and see I was the kid that everyone picked on to make themselves feel better. There's always a kid like that, and I was that kid. But when I was so young, I didn't know such things, so I needed other ways to survive. And the hope that I would meet someone who liked me was that hope. The hope that a person might actually care about me.
In my freshman year of college I met that person. He was everything that I wanted in a friend. I did not and never did have courage about myself. He had that courage for me, within me. He showed me how to stand up for myself, how to defend myself, and how to love myself. He taught me how to enjoy life, and how to live. He taught me the things which most people take for granted. He taught me so many things about life and how it works, and what one should expect from life. I cherished my life from that moment on, and if I could I would thank him every day for the rest of my life. But I can't. I'm left with one final question I want to ask him, but I can't. I can't ask him why he killed himself.
I don't know the reason. I don't know his personal life. I don't know what events transpired in his life to lead him to such a decision. This person had taught me so much that I didn't know, and taken me so far above my previous heights. How could such a great person take their own life? Even I, who knew nothing about living, decided I would not take my life so long ago. Back when I was teased as a child, I still held on to hope. I never let go of that, despite what ignorance I possessed otherwise. But him...did he not have hope? Did he not have anything to live for? He seemed so wise beyond his years, yet at the same time hopelessly devoid of any real sense of purpose. Perhaps I was so busy accepting his help in trying to fix my life, that I didn't help him with his.
I don't really know what happened to him, or why. I don't even know where he was buried, or I would visit his grave every day if I could to thank him. He was an amazing person to helped me in the hardest part of my life, and for that I am forever grateful. He was, and always will be, my guardian angel.
Even if he didn't believe they exist.
Crying
I'm crying, crying, crying,
But I don't shed a tear.
Just a swelling of my heart,
And a growing presence of fear.
I'm crying, crying, crying,
But no water touches my cheeks.
Just a balloon inside my stomach,
Expanding for weeks and weeks.
I'm crying, crying, crying,
But there's no way to dry my sadness.
Because no wetness is on my face,
This crying induces a scary madness.
I'm crying, crying, crying,
Silently on the inside of my chest.
My insides are about to burst,
I just wish I could cry like the rest.
But I don't shed a tear.
Just a swelling of my heart,
And a growing presence of fear.
I'm crying, crying, crying,
But no water touches my cheeks.
Just a balloon inside my stomach,
Expanding for weeks and weeks.
I'm crying, crying, crying,
But there's no way to dry my sadness.
Because no wetness is on my face,
This crying induces a scary madness.
I'm crying, crying, crying,
Silently on the inside of my chest.
My insides are about to burst,
I just wish I could cry like the rest.
Wednesday, April 05, 2006
This Is The Meaning Of Life
I'll stand on your shoulders,
If you stand on mine.
You help boost that guy up,
And we'll reach the top just fine.
We'll keep climbing on each other,
Up and up, towards the top.
I say!, what a pyramid,
Keep on building, don't stop!
We are all here to help each other,
Reach the very tip of this thing.
I'll give you a mighty lift,
So you can stand on top and sing!
But after your done don't forget,
To reach down your hand to pull me up.
So I can join you too!,
And we can drink from the same cup.
We're all in this together,
Even though there's nothing at the top.
So just keep pushing others forward,
And they'll push you too! (Don't stop!)
If you stand on mine.
You help boost that guy up,
And we'll reach the top just fine.
We'll keep climbing on each other,
Up and up, towards the top.
I say!, what a pyramid,
Keep on building, don't stop!
We are all here to help each other,
Reach the very tip of this thing.
I'll give you a mighty lift,
So you can stand on top and sing!
But after your done don't forget,
To reach down your hand to pull me up.
So I can join you too!,
And we can drink from the same cup.
We're all in this together,
Even though there's nothing at the top.
So just keep pushing others forward,
And they'll push you too! (Don't stop!)
Make-Believe Love
I find it funny how here and now,
Letting my heart run wild is something I'll allow.
I would leave my future and forget my past,
For a fantasy life with you at last.
But that fantasy world would be in my head,
Make-believe in my heart, and not alive but dead.
It would exist in dreams, where nothing's as it seems,
And never in the real world, where the sky's sun gleams.
Is a heart so strong that it can leave all it has known,
Or so weak to abandon what it's life has shown?
If you asked me for your hand, I would say OK,
Even though I don't know you, or anything else to say.
Can a person inherently love too much perhaps,
Even people who are fake and exist as an imaginary lapse?
I want to be their friend, who they can call at any time,
And who sings them silently to sleep, with a bedtime rhyme.
Loving these things which aren't real, catches up in the end,
Where a heart stands lonely, and has no more room to bend.
Perhaps just a distorted mind, can create love out of thin air,
The root of this insanity, is having love but no one to share.
Letting my heart run wild is something I'll allow.
I would leave my future and forget my past,
For a fantasy life with you at last.
But that fantasy world would be in my head,
Make-believe in my heart, and not alive but dead.
It would exist in dreams, where nothing's as it seems,
And never in the real world, where the sky's sun gleams.
Is a heart so strong that it can leave all it has known,
Or so weak to abandon what it's life has shown?
If you asked me for your hand, I would say OK,
Even though I don't know you, or anything else to say.
Can a person inherently love too much perhaps,
Even people who are fake and exist as an imaginary lapse?
I want to be their friend, who they can call at any time,
And who sings them silently to sleep, with a bedtime rhyme.
Loving these things which aren't real, catches up in the end,
Where a heart stands lonely, and has no more room to bend.
Perhaps just a distorted mind, can create love out of thin air,
The root of this insanity, is having love but no one to share.
What Am I?
It's a riddle. Not about me. Have fun solving it.
How confused can I be,
If I can't know what I see?
How hard is it to know,
What my heart tries to show?
Freud said a life comes in two,
I'm either mad or horny (is that true?).
If you give me attention I latch on fast,
Slowly injecting you with my haunting past.
I might be straight but I could be gay,
Only a psychoanalyist can truly say.
Open me up and peer at my mind,
At your own risk, see what you can find.
Probably a tangled mass of hopes and dreams,
Tarnished and scrambled, busting at the seams.
Fixable by you, or destroyed beyond repair?
Is this Love true, or a precursor of despair?
You are two people, so which is the one?
Which is the one, who is trying to run?
What am I? I am really confused,
Just What Am I, I have forever mused.
Just what am I?
How confused can I be,
If I can't know what I see?
How hard is it to know,
What my heart tries to show?
Freud said a life comes in two,
I'm either mad or horny (is that true?).
If you give me attention I latch on fast,
Slowly injecting you with my haunting past.
I might be straight but I could be gay,
Only a psychoanalyist can truly say.
Open me up and peer at my mind,
At your own risk, see what you can find.
Probably a tangled mass of hopes and dreams,
Tarnished and scrambled, busting at the seams.
Fixable by you, or destroyed beyond repair?
Is this Love true, or a precursor of despair?
You are two people, so which is the one?
Which is the one, who is trying to run?
What am I? I am really confused,
Just What Am I, I have forever mused.
Just what am I?
Tuesday, April 04, 2006
How Are You?
"Hi there, how are you doing?"
Blah.
Why do people always ask this? If the meeting is informal, the answer will always be "I'm doing OK/Alright/Pretty good/Great/Good/etc". And that can be a lie. This is why I don't like small talk.
When you ask me how I'm doing, I can answer in one of two ways:
a.) The socially acceptable and expected response of how I am doing OK/average, or above-average/Good. You'll say the same, and then we'll have some common ground to go off of.
b.) I can tell you the way things really are, perhaps giving you (a stranger) too much information at once, and freaking you out.
I usually use A sadly, because it is what is expected.
But what if I used B? What if I told this person that I'm actually not doing quite well, and that I'm going through some very deep personal problems with my lifestyle and life decisions? Do you think that other person would lend an ear in empathy? Or would they run with their metaphorical tail between their legs?
Who knows? I know I never will.
I think this is just one of those social things that everyone else gets and I'm still questioning.
Blah.
Why do people always ask this? If the meeting is informal, the answer will always be "I'm doing OK/Alright/Pretty good/Great/Good/etc". And that can be a lie. This is why I don't like small talk.
When you ask me how I'm doing, I can answer in one of two ways:
a.) The socially acceptable and expected response of how I am doing OK/average, or above-average/Good. You'll say the same, and then we'll have some common ground to go off of.
b.) I can tell you the way things really are, perhaps giving you (a stranger) too much information at once, and freaking you out.
I usually use A sadly, because it is what is expected.
But what if I used B? What if I told this person that I'm actually not doing quite well, and that I'm going through some very deep personal problems with my lifestyle and life decisions? Do you think that other person would lend an ear in empathy? Or would they run with their metaphorical tail between their legs?
Who knows? I know I never will.
I think this is just one of those social things that everyone else gets and I'm still questioning.
The World
You either perceive reality as good or bad. Things are inherently bad, and if good things happen you are fortunate, or things are naturally good, and bad things disappoint you. You are either upset, or overjoyed, depending on your take on the world. Do good things happen in a bad world, or do bad things happen in a good world? Either way your reaction will be the same, one of acceptance or one of denial.
If you deny that bad things will happen to you, then you will be upset when those bad things happen. If you accept bad things for what they are - which is a defining aspect of the world we live in - then you can move on easier. Expecting certain things from life is never good. Especially when you don't know if you can make them happen. Don't expect anything from yourself. Just be who you are, and live how it makes you happy, and enjoy the best times when they come. Attempt to always have good things happen, and you will be even more disappointed when they don't.
Much of life is not fun or enjoyable. This isn't pessimism. It's reality. And you have to learn to deal with the reality of the world if you wish to be a part of it. Assume that you will have less fun and more struggle in your life. Then when you have fun and enjoy life, you can appreciate it. Everyone goes through hard times. Everyone will be sad at one point or another. You will be sad in the future at some point. Maybe it's in a different state, on a vacation, on a date, or by yourself, but it will happen. Just as you know that at some point in the future you will feel physical pain that hurts very badly. But do you wake up in the morning each day fearing that physical pain? No, because it comes unexpectedly, and fearing in general isn't healthy.
So don't fear that bad things will happen, because they will. That's like fearing that you will at some point in your future be hurt emotionally and physically. It might be stubbing your toe, or someone telling you that they hate you. It's going to happen. You can't stop it. This isn't pessimism. It's reality. Learn to deal with it, so you can understand the world better and be able to be an integral part of it.
If you deny that bad things will happen to you, then you will be upset when those bad things happen. If you accept bad things for what they are - which is a defining aspect of the world we live in - then you can move on easier. Expecting certain things from life is never good. Especially when you don't know if you can make them happen. Don't expect anything from yourself. Just be who you are, and live how it makes you happy, and enjoy the best times when they come. Attempt to always have good things happen, and you will be even more disappointed when they don't.
Much of life is not fun or enjoyable. This isn't pessimism. It's reality. And you have to learn to deal with the reality of the world if you wish to be a part of it. Assume that you will have less fun and more struggle in your life. Then when you have fun and enjoy life, you can appreciate it. Everyone goes through hard times. Everyone will be sad at one point or another. You will be sad in the future at some point. Maybe it's in a different state, on a vacation, on a date, or by yourself, but it will happen. Just as you know that at some point in the future you will feel physical pain that hurts very badly. But do you wake up in the morning each day fearing that physical pain? No, because it comes unexpectedly, and fearing in general isn't healthy.
So don't fear that bad things will happen, because they will. That's like fearing that you will at some point in your future be hurt emotionally and physically. It might be stubbing your toe, or someone telling you that they hate you. It's going to happen. You can't stop it. This isn't pessimism. It's reality. Learn to deal with it, so you can understand the world better and be able to be an integral part of it.
Thursday, March 30, 2006
Is It Important...?
Is it important for you to belong,
And to have a group of peers?
Is it important for you to have friends,
To protect you from an idiot's jeers?
Is it important for you to love,
And to be in love as well.
Is it important for you that you were caught,
When you slipped so fast and fell?
Is it important for you to think of me,
Or am I just a member of memories.
Is it important for you to enter my life,
So you can always be there to tease?
I think that it's important for you to know,
That even after I die I won't forget.
The evening that I spent with you,
Driving home as the sun set.
And to have a group of peers?
Is it important for you to have friends,
To protect you from an idiot's jeers?
Is it important for you to love,
And to be in love as well.
Is it important for you that you were caught,
When you slipped so fast and fell?
Is it important for you to think of me,
Or am I just a member of memories.
Is it important for you to enter my life,
So you can always be there to tease?
I think that it's important for you to know,
That even after I die I won't forget.
The evening that I spent with you,
Driving home as the sun set.
Magic Trick
It seems that not ever having been divorced is a magic trick indeed these days.
I have a magic trick,
Would you like to see?
Don't ask how I do it,
You won't get the answer from me.
First close your eyes,
And slow your breathing just a bit.
Count to one, count to two,
Then slowly move down and sit.
Stop for a brief moment,
Just before you move on.
And begin to guess if I'm real,
Or if I'm just a silly con.
Close your eyes and count to three,
Then open your eyes to see,
What you thought could never be,
Yes I'm here, it's really me.
I have a magic trick,
Would you like to see?
Don't ask how I do it,
You won't get the answer from me.
First close your eyes,
And slow your breathing just a bit.
Count to one, count to two,
Then slowly move down and sit.
Stop for a brief moment,
Just before you move on.
And begin to guess if I'm real,
Or if I'm just a silly con.
Close your eyes and count to three,
Then open your eyes to see,
What you thought could never be,
Yes I'm here, it's really me.
I really don't like you.
**If you think that this entry is about you, then you are wrong. Trust me.
You pretty much get on my nerves all the time. Everything that you do, in some way or another, gets on my nerves. We are probably two exact opposites, which would explain the reason. And just for reference, opposites sure as hell don't attract.
I suppose it might be my own stubborness which keeps me from liking you. Or maybe its just my shrewdness. I'm not really sure what it is that makes me not like you, but I don't. Sue me. I don't think that I'll ever like you, but then again I'm not going to forever be affiliated with you. I suppose endurance is the best solution to this problem. Enduring until I am finally freed from your chains of annoyance.
I complain about you because you annoy me. You do things that annoy me. You say things that annoy me. You live your life in a way that annoys me. I annoy myself with the way I live, but that's another story. And not a very interesting one, either.
I know that you're just trying to live your life, and that you can't help being who you are up to this point. Just as I can't help that I don't like you. I don't think that you'll ever know that I don't like you, unless you're a very good guesser and somewhat inquisitive. Yet still, it feels very eerie putting on this show when deep down I just don't like you.
I probably don't even have a fair basis to say that I don't like you. I probably don't have any good reasons for saying that I don't like you. But that's OK, because I'm talking to myself here, and I can be as opinionated and subjective as I damn well want.
I think that you're ignorant. I think that you don't know many things. I think that if I were to ask you what you live for, you wouldn't have an answer. I think that if I asked why you believe in god, you wouldn't have a good answer. I think that if you called yourself a Christian, then I could call you a hypocrite. Those are some of the reasons I don't like you. Perhaps invasion of my privacy is another reason I don't like you. I'm a very private person. I enjoy the time I spend by myself (usually), so long as I am with other people to interact with. But you are here, and I don't want you to be. This annoys me. And thus I don't like you.
But hey, it's all good. Life isn't fair. You can't always get what you want. Things that you don't like are going to happen. I can't kill you (or atleast I never would), and I can't escape the situation I'm in, so I suppose I'm just going to say this:
I really just don't like you.
You pretty much get on my nerves all the time. Everything that you do, in some way or another, gets on my nerves. We are probably two exact opposites, which would explain the reason. And just for reference, opposites sure as hell don't attract.
I suppose it might be my own stubborness which keeps me from liking you. Or maybe its just my shrewdness. I'm not really sure what it is that makes me not like you, but I don't. Sue me. I don't think that I'll ever like you, but then again I'm not going to forever be affiliated with you. I suppose endurance is the best solution to this problem. Enduring until I am finally freed from your chains of annoyance.
I complain about you because you annoy me. You do things that annoy me. You say things that annoy me. You live your life in a way that annoys me. I annoy myself with the way I live, but that's another story. And not a very interesting one, either.
I know that you're just trying to live your life, and that you can't help being who you are up to this point. Just as I can't help that I don't like you. I don't think that you'll ever know that I don't like you, unless you're a very good guesser and somewhat inquisitive. Yet still, it feels very eerie putting on this show when deep down I just don't like you.
I probably don't even have a fair basis to say that I don't like you. I probably don't have any good reasons for saying that I don't like you. But that's OK, because I'm talking to myself here, and I can be as opinionated and subjective as I damn well want.
I think that you're ignorant. I think that you don't know many things. I think that if I were to ask you what you live for, you wouldn't have an answer. I think that if I asked why you believe in god, you wouldn't have a good answer. I think that if you called yourself a Christian, then I could call you a hypocrite. Those are some of the reasons I don't like you. Perhaps invasion of my privacy is another reason I don't like you. I'm a very private person. I enjoy the time I spend by myself (usually), so long as I am with other people to interact with. But you are here, and I don't want you to be. This annoys me. And thus I don't like you.
But hey, it's all good. Life isn't fair. You can't always get what you want. Things that you don't like are going to happen. I can't kill you (or atleast I never would), and I can't escape the situation I'm in, so I suppose I'm just going to say this:
I really just don't like you.
Dreams (Of You)
This is an actual dream that I had.
I'm there with you. The two of us. And I don't know why. Why we are together. Together and having fun. It's what I've always wanted. So why does it have to be a dream? Why does it have to be fake? Why can't it be real? Why does it have to be a dream...?
I don't even know all of what we did. All I remember is being with you, then losing you for a few minutes, then with the help of my old best friend (who I haven't talked to in about two years-plus) I found you again. After that I don't know what happened. Did you run from me? Did you want me to find you? Were you relieved that I found you, or disappointed? These answers I don't know. My unconscious will not allow me to see that deeply in to such matters. I was not supposed to know such things.
A man held out his hand before we boarded the elevator to go up to the third floor. He said something religious, to which I retorted something smart, and the door shut after I shook his hand with a grin. We looked at each other. For a few seconds atleast. You were looking at me. How wonderful that felt. To have you look at me. Then you smiled, too, because me and you are religiously the same. That was a good moment.
It was on the third floor I lost you. You went to the bathroom, so I decided to also. People were messing with some poor kid in the bathroom, so I decided not to go in, so as to avoid attention. I suppose that's a subconscious action I've been doing throughout my life. Avoiding attention. Especially unwanted attention.
I think that we escaped. I cannot be sure of this, but after I found you in the room that reminded me of both Italy and Shakespeare's Hamlet (even though upon reflection I was wrong in my dream - the setting was actually Macbeth), and after we escaped from that weird thing that had almost captured you (did I save you?), we were at a staircase. The last thing I remember is staring down the staircase. I imagined that if I ran down it at full speed, you would follow me.
That feeling, that you would follow me wherever I went, was possibly the best part of the dream. I begin to think what it would feel like to be able to have someone like that. Perhaps to be able to have you like that. I pictured us running down the stairs in my mind, but we never actually did so. I just pictured it in my head. Over. And over. And over.
Until I woke up.
I'm there with you. The two of us. And I don't know why. Why we are together. Together and having fun. It's what I've always wanted. So why does it have to be a dream? Why does it have to be fake? Why can't it be real? Why does it have to be a dream...?
I don't even know all of what we did. All I remember is being with you, then losing you for a few minutes, then with the help of my old best friend (who I haven't talked to in about two years-plus) I found you again. After that I don't know what happened. Did you run from me? Did you want me to find you? Were you relieved that I found you, or disappointed? These answers I don't know. My unconscious will not allow me to see that deeply in to such matters. I was not supposed to know such things.
A man held out his hand before we boarded the elevator to go up to the third floor. He said something religious, to which I retorted something smart, and the door shut after I shook his hand with a grin. We looked at each other. For a few seconds atleast. You were looking at me. How wonderful that felt. To have you look at me. Then you smiled, too, because me and you are religiously the same. That was a good moment.
It was on the third floor I lost you. You went to the bathroom, so I decided to also. People were messing with some poor kid in the bathroom, so I decided not to go in, so as to avoid attention. I suppose that's a subconscious action I've been doing throughout my life. Avoiding attention. Especially unwanted attention.
I think that we escaped. I cannot be sure of this, but after I found you in the room that reminded me of both Italy and Shakespeare's Hamlet (even though upon reflection I was wrong in my dream - the setting was actually Macbeth), and after we escaped from that weird thing that had almost captured you (did I save you?), we were at a staircase. The last thing I remember is staring down the staircase. I imagined that if I ran down it at full speed, you would follow me.
That feeling, that you would follow me wherever I went, was possibly the best part of the dream. I begin to think what it would feel like to be able to have someone like that. Perhaps to be able to have you like that. I pictured us running down the stairs in my mind, but we never actually did so. I just pictured it in my head. Over. And over. And over.
Until I woke up.
Monday, March 27, 2006
I'm Sorry!
I'm Sorry that I don't know what to say or do.
I'm Sorry that I don't know when to say or do it.
I'm Sorry that I don't know how to say or do it.
I'm Sorry that I don't know who to say or do it to.
Worst of all...
I'm Sorry that I know why I should say or do it, but I don't.
I'm Sorry that I don't know when to say or do it.
I'm Sorry that I don't know how to say or do it.
I'm Sorry that I don't know who to say or do it to.
Worst of all...
I'm Sorry that I know why I should say or do it, but I don't.
Goodnight My Love
Goodnight my love,
'Til the next night I am alone.
'Til I look up at those bright stars,
Whose love upon me shone.
Goodnight my love,
'Til I reach out to you once more.
'Til I can see you laying there,
On the ocean's shore.
Goodnight my love,
'Til the long night is done.
'Til I awake,
With the rising sun.
Goodnight my love,
'Til I start loving you.
'Til I learn to finally live,
And learn to love, too.
'Til the next night I am alone.
'Til I look up at those bright stars,
Whose love upon me shone.
Goodnight my love,
'Til I reach out to you once more.
'Til I can see you laying there,
On the ocean's shore.
Goodnight my love,
'Til the long night is done.
'Til I awake,
With the rising sun.
Goodnight my love,
'Til I start loving you.
'Til I learn to finally live,
And learn to love, too.
My Pace
This isn't an original work.
Count to one and you can move forward.
Count to two, and you can rest.
Count to three, and you can think...
That moving at my pace is just fine.
Time passes by,
Leaving things behind.
You can't forget these feelings of haste.
When they say that putting up a fight is pointless,
You must not give up.
Offense!
Let's raise our voices through the tough times.
Offense!
Let's look towards our own ambitions.
There's no need to fear,
the towering walls that surround us.
Don't get lost in this life,
where answers don't always exist.
Count to one and you can move forward.
Count to two, and you can rest.
Count to three, and you can think...
That moving at my pace is just fine.
Count to one and you can move forward.
Count to two, and you can rest.
Count to three, and you can think...
That moving at my pace is just fine.
Time passes by,
Leaving things behind.
You can't forget these feelings of haste.
When they say that putting up a fight is pointless,
You must not give up.
Offense!
Let's raise our voices through the tough times.
Offense!
Let's look towards our own ambitions.
There's no need to fear,
the towering walls that surround us.
Don't get lost in this life,
where answers don't always exist.
Count to one and you can move forward.
Count to two, and you can rest.
Count to three, and you can think...
That moving at my pace is just fine.
Friday, March 17, 2006
Spring Break Writing
Please visit http://spring-break-06.blogspot.com/ for the majority of my writings over Spring Break. The separate blog is a continuing effort until the end of Spring Break, so be sure to check back periodically.
Wednesday, March 15, 2006
Patience versus Wasting Time
They say miracles happen every day,
But I'm still waiting for mine.
As if I'll be handed a form,
And a dotted line to sign.
Patience isn't rewarded,
Certainly not with joy.
Waiting is doing nothing,
And forms a man that's still a boy.
Biding my time surely won't suffice,
If I wish to change my ways.
Yes I fear, that nothing will come,
Simply by noting the days.
This is how I know,
That change will never happen.
This is why I am sad,
And my will to live has slackened.
But I'm still waiting for mine.
As if I'll be handed a form,
And a dotted line to sign.
Patience isn't rewarded,
Certainly not with joy.
Waiting is doing nothing,
And forms a man that's still a boy.
Biding my time surely won't suffice,
If I wish to change my ways.
Yes I fear, that nothing will come,
Simply by noting the days.
This is how I know,
That change will never happen.
This is why I am sad,
And my will to live has slackened.
Cut
**I've never cut myself, and never will. Makes me too woozy to think about lol.
Some people use them to cut paper,
But I use them to forget,
The volly of insults you threw,
And how they made me upset.
Some people use it to shave hair,
But I use it to move on,
From how sad you make me feel,
From the time I awake at dawn.
Some people use it to start a car,
But I use it to silently cope.
Maybe if you push me too far,
I'll end it all instead with rope.
"Ugly, hermit, loner, loser",
Cut, Slice, Dice, and Slash.
Keep throwing insults my way,
Eventually my life will not last.
'Til that one day when I tripped,
And he held out his hand with care.
My sleeve came up when I moved,
And he could do nothing but stare.
I tried to run but he held on firm,
And my heart suddenly backflipped.
He hugged me and cried, as did I,
Thank the Lord that I tripped.
---
*If you don't get the "underlying message" to this let me know, 'cause it's pretty neat.
Some people use them to cut paper,
But I use them to forget,
The volly of insults you threw,
And how they made me upset.
Some people use it to shave hair,
But I use it to move on,
From how sad you make me feel,
From the time I awake at dawn.
Some people use it to start a car,
But I use it to silently cope.
Maybe if you push me too far,
I'll end it all instead with rope.
"Ugly, hermit, loner, loser",
Cut, Slice, Dice, and Slash.
Keep throwing insults my way,
Eventually my life will not last.
'Til that one day when I tripped,
And he held out his hand with care.
My sleeve came up when I moved,
And he could do nothing but stare.
I tried to run but he held on firm,
And my heart suddenly backflipped.
He hugged me and cried, as did I,
Thank the Lord that I tripped.
---
*If you don't get the "underlying message" to this let me know, 'cause it's pretty neat.
Tuesday, March 14, 2006
Skeletons, Fossils, Telephone Calls, Enemies, and Dreams.
Skeletons. What do they mean to you?
Perhaps when I was young they meant Halloween, or spooky things like haunted houses. It meant going from door to door and opening up a pillowcase and getting some candy. What does it mean now? Now it means learning the anatomy of a human body, or the evolutionary aspects of primates. Now it means my future. The candy I get from skeletons now is an A in a course, and eventually a degree.
Fossils. Do they disprove the Bible?
I'm not religious. I don't claim to be. But if fossils prove that there have been evolutionary advancements of primates, and that perhaps all primates ascended from one ancestral primate, then what can really be said to dispute that? If God created man such as in the form of Adam, then where did these "ancient" primates come from, and why do they exist? Fossils can't lie. Words can.
Why I don't talk on the phone.
There's nothing to talk about. I'm doing fine. You're doing fine. Even if you're not, you'll say that you are. Same with me. Because that's what people do on the phone. Next time you call me don't start off with "How are you". Start off with, "Hey, Stephen, what do you think of the blind-sided views that members of a religion carry, and the effects their narrowed view of the world has on their lives?"
Enemies. You are your biggest one.
No one else has the capability of bringing you down and keeping you there more than yourself. When you rely on others to pull you up, you become dependent. The world is not geared to reward or profit dependent people. Learn to get up on your own, and keep yourself there. Whether it's by writing, reading, music, or whatever. Other people can knock you down. That's a part of the world, a world that really isn't fair. It's up to you to get back up. Don't expect anyone else to help you in that regard. Only you. You're all you will ever have sometimes. Learn to deal with it. Learn to move on with no one else. You can only hope that, in time, they will come.
Dreams. Get some.
Stop thinking that your life will amount to nothing. Find someone worth protecting. Find something worth fighting for. Find something you want. And get it. Don't let someone tell you that you can't. They don't know what you can and can't do. Only you know that. And you only know when you try. And you'll only try when you dream. You'll fail. I can assure you that. You won't succeed every time. You might not ever succeed. But to stop trying in the face of failure is to admit defeat. It is to be defeated in the act of life. There isn't a goal of life or a specific rule that says you win. That's because we each make those goals and rules for ourselves. If you want to be a winner, then you know what you have to do. Don't listen to someone else's rules. Make your own, and live by them.
Perhaps when I was young they meant Halloween, or spooky things like haunted houses. It meant going from door to door and opening up a pillowcase and getting some candy. What does it mean now? Now it means learning the anatomy of a human body, or the evolutionary aspects of primates. Now it means my future. The candy I get from skeletons now is an A in a course, and eventually a degree.
Fossils. Do they disprove the Bible?
I'm not religious. I don't claim to be. But if fossils prove that there have been evolutionary advancements of primates, and that perhaps all primates ascended from one ancestral primate, then what can really be said to dispute that? If God created man such as in the form of Adam, then where did these "ancient" primates come from, and why do they exist? Fossils can't lie. Words can.
Why I don't talk on the phone.
There's nothing to talk about. I'm doing fine. You're doing fine. Even if you're not, you'll say that you are. Same with me. Because that's what people do on the phone. Next time you call me don't start off with "How are you". Start off with, "Hey, Stephen, what do you think of the blind-sided views that members of a religion carry, and the effects their narrowed view of the world has on their lives?"
Enemies. You are your biggest one.
No one else has the capability of bringing you down and keeping you there more than yourself. When you rely on others to pull you up, you become dependent. The world is not geared to reward or profit dependent people. Learn to get up on your own, and keep yourself there. Whether it's by writing, reading, music, or whatever. Other people can knock you down. That's a part of the world, a world that really isn't fair. It's up to you to get back up. Don't expect anyone else to help you in that regard. Only you. You're all you will ever have sometimes. Learn to deal with it. Learn to move on with no one else. You can only hope that, in time, they will come.
Dreams. Get some.
Stop thinking that your life will amount to nothing. Find someone worth protecting. Find something worth fighting for. Find something you want. And get it. Don't let someone tell you that you can't. They don't know what you can and can't do. Only you know that. And you only know when you try. And you'll only try when you dream. You'll fail. I can assure you that. You won't succeed every time. You might not ever succeed. But to stop trying in the face of failure is to admit defeat. It is to be defeated in the act of life. There isn't a goal of life or a specific rule that says you win. That's because we each make those goals and rules for ourselves. If you want to be a winner, then you know what you have to do. Don't listen to someone else's rules. Make your own, and live by them.
What Could Be Better?
What could be better, than a lifetime in Italy, with one that you love, to live in forever happiness.
What could be better, than early mornings views of the Vatican, and afternoon dinners outdoors.
What could be better, than living amongst Romance, and breathing the air of art and majesty.
What could be better, than having your loved one, share this with you, in a perfect moment.
What could be better, than writing both your names, on the tunnel walls of Juliet's balcony.
What could be better, than watching the sun set, shining off of golden churches, and landscapes.
What could be better, than the starry night sky, and the clean night air, and a lover to share.
What could be better, than living day to day, as if each day, you were born again and again.
What could be better, than having a dream, even if the dream is unrealistic, and unlikely to occur.
What could be better?
Making it come true.
What could be better, than early mornings views of the Vatican, and afternoon dinners outdoors.
What could be better, than living amongst Romance, and breathing the air of art and majesty.
What could be better, than having your loved one, share this with you, in a perfect moment.
What could be better, than writing both your names, on the tunnel walls of Juliet's balcony.
What could be better, than watching the sun set, shining off of golden churches, and landscapes.
What could be better, than the starry night sky, and the clean night air, and a lover to share.
What could be better, than living day to day, as if each day, you were born again and again.
What could be better, than having a dream, even if the dream is unrealistic, and unlikely to occur.
What could be better?
Making it come true.
Saturday, March 11, 2006
I'll Be Happier In The Morning. I Hope...
For those who are reading this as the first thing ever on here - I realize it sucks. Alot of the better things are in earlier months (in the Archive links on the side). And FYI to anyone who might actually care - I'm haven't ever tried to kill myself, and probably never will. People just do (or in this case write) stupid crap when they get depressed.
A bottle of pills,
Only a few feet away.
Should I take twenty and die,
Or just one to live another day?
I sure wish I had some friends,
Who could talk me out of this.
Who could stop the metal knife,
As it slowly approaches my wrist.
I am so small, so tiny,
That I almost don't exist.
Other than some of my family,
I know I wouldn't be missed.
I wonder if I make them sad,
By talking about this stuff.
Don't worry folks, you've nothing to fear,
'Cause killing yourself is really tough.
Would you even try to save me,
Or would you continue to watch me to fall?
Would your words be true and filled with love,
Or just an effort in trying to make me stall?
A bottle of pills,
Only a few feet away.
Should I take twenty and die,
Or just one to live another day?
I sure wish I had some friends,
Who could talk me out of this.
Who could stop the metal knife,
As it slowly approaches my wrist.
I am so small, so tiny,
That I almost don't exist.
Other than some of my family,
I know I wouldn't be missed.
I wonder if I make them sad,
By talking about this stuff.
Don't worry folks, you've nothing to fear,
'Cause killing yourself is really tough.
Would you even try to save me,
Or would you continue to watch me to fall?
Would your words be true and filled with love,
Or just an effort in trying to make me stall?
Friday, March 10, 2006
Don't Leave Comments On This Entry. Pity? No Thanks...
So instead of complaining like everyone else my age about why I haven't met "the one person", I'm just going to come right out and do the exact thing that I shouldn't. I'm going to talk about my personal life.
Honestly it isn't like it matters. I could count on one damn hand the number of people who even read this stupid blog. My poetry isn't even good. People tell me it's good because they want to be nice. And they want to be nice because they know I'm pathetic and only have my writing to show that I'm worth a damn. I'm not great at sports. I'm not a good musician. I'm not exceptional at any one subject in school. I'm just average like everyone else. Perhaps that's the root of this dilemma.
Everyone goes through a process where they make the world a whole lot smaller. This is often done by falling in love, finding a passion/hobby, getting a job/career, etc. (or any combination of those and other ones too). Seeing as how I really don't have any one of those except writing (which all I do is write on this damn obscure blog) I'd say that I think the world is a pretty damn big place. And that vastness is overwhelming me. That's my problem. Now go ahead and tell me to deal with it. That's all anyone else will say if I try and tell them how I'm feeling. The world is full of people who love to put you down.
I lead people on through my writing that I am intellectual, deep, empathetic, sentimental, and "wise". Let me tell you all something. I'm just a socially-under-developed, lonely, and at times pathetic, individual. Now I know calling myself pathetic isn't very attractive. Then again I'm not trying to be attractive with this entry. To tell you the truth, I don't know what I'm trying to be anymore. It wouldn't be too farfetched to say that I hate my life right now. Alot of people probably feel that way sometimes. I just have no one to ****ing call and talk about it that can relate.
At this point you are either pitying me or pissed off at me. Most of you are probably pissed off at me. Pissed off that I'm complaining and have to this point wasted precious minutes of your lives. If I could I'd shave those minutes off of my life and give them back to you, since you would probably make better use of them anyway. But alas, I cannot do that, so I guess I'll just apologize. Alot of people read this blog and think it's a fun little hobby I like to do. Maybe it's something I do in my spare time, or something to pass the time while waiting for a class. Let me tell you people something.
If you're in love, then this blog to me is like your lover to you. The only difference is a blog doesn't say "I love you", and you can't really communicate with it. Of course I don't "love" my blog like I love a person. The implication I'm trying to make is that the same emotions you pour from your heart when you love a person or thing is the emotions I put in to my blog. So there you have it. Of the miniscule population that even reads a damn thing I write, you know it now. You aren't reading random thoughts or intellectual bursts of my brain. You're reading the inner struggles and triumphs of a conscience that is fighting for survival in the present world in which it exists.
Enjoy.
Or hate it.
I don't really care.
Honestly it isn't like it matters. I could count on one damn hand the number of people who even read this stupid blog. My poetry isn't even good. People tell me it's good because they want to be nice. And they want to be nice because they know I'm pathetic and only have my writing to show that I'm worth a damn. I'm not great at sports. I'm not a good musician. I'm not exceptional at any one subject in school. I'm just average like everyone else. Perhaps that's the root of this dilemma.
Everyone goes through a process where they make the world a whole lot smaller. This is often done by falling in love, finding a passion/hobby, getting a job/career, etc. (or any combination of those and other ones too). Seeing as how I really don't have any one of those except writing (which all I do is write on this damn obscure blog) I'd say that I think the world is a pretty damn big place. And that vastness is overwhelming me. That's my problem. Now go ahead and tell me to deal with it. That's all anyone else will say if I try and tell them how I'm feeling. The world is full of people who love to put you down.
I lead people on through my writing that I am intellectual, deep, empathetic, sentimental, and "wise". Let me tell you all something. I'm just a socially-under-developed, lonely, and at times pathetic, individual. Now I know calling myself pathetic isn't very attractive. Then again I'm not trying to be attractive with this entry. To tell you the truth, I don't know what I'm trying to be anymore. It wouldn't be too farfetched to say that I hate my life right now. Alot of people probably feel that way sometimes. I just have no one to ****ing call and talk about it that can relate.
At this point you are either pitying me or pissed off at me. Most of you are probably pissed off at me. Pissed off that I'm complaining and have to this point wasted precious minutes of your lives. If I could I'd shave those minutes off of my life and give them back to you, since you would probably make better use of them anyway. But alas, I cannot do that, so I guess I'll just apologize. Alot of people read this blog and think it's a fun little hobby I like to do. Maybe it's something I do in my spare time, or something to pass the time while waiting for a class. Let me tell you people something.
If you're in love, then this blog to me is like your lover to you. The only difference is a blog doesn't say "I love you", and you can't really communicate with it. Of course I don't "love" my blog like I love a person. The implication I'm trying to make is that the same emotions you pour from your heart when you love a person or thing is the emotions I put in to my blog. So there you have it. Of the miniscule population that even reads a damn thing I write, you know it now. You aren't reading random thoughts or intellectual bursts of my brain. You're reading the inner struggles and triumphs of a conscience that is fighting for survival in the present world in which it exists.
Enjoy.
Or hate it.
I don't really care.
*Sad Face*
I just want to go away,
And I just don't know why.
I just want this all to end
I just want to stop and die.
I think they love each other,
Which is wonderful and great.
But who is there to love me,
Or go out with me on a date?
I think I'd sell my soul,
To have love for just one year.
For it is loneliness I loathe,
And not pain that I fear.
In the end I hate myself,
Just like the song said I would.*
I would probably take my life,
If only take my life I could.
---
*There's a song with the finishing lyrics "You will hate yourself in the end" that I got this line from.
And I just don't know why.
I just want this all to end
I just want to stop and die.
I think they love each other,
Which is wonderful and great.
But who is there to love me,
Or go out with me on a date?
I think I'd sell my soul,
To have love for just one year.
For it is loneliness I loathe,
And not pain that I fear.
In the end I hate myself,
Just like the song said I would.*
I would probably take my life,
If only take my life I could.
---
*There's a song with the finishing lyrics "You will hate yourself in the end" that I got this line from.
I Don't Really Know You (So Can I Say I Love You?)
If I hardly even know you,
Why do I hate to say good-bye?
It may be my spontaneous love,
And the fact that I am shy.
Far away from you,
I run and I hide.
You can't tell from looking,
That I'm crying inside.
It's like my entire chest,
Is being pressed inward so hard.
Because I know you won't call me,
Or even send a Birthday card.
You don't even know the real me,
Unless you read what I'm writing here.
You won't know that confessing my feelings,
Is the biggest thing I fear.
Why do I hate to say good-bye?
It may be my spontaneous love,
And the fact that I am shy.
Far away from you,
I run and I hide.
You can't tell from looking,
That I'm crying inside.
It's like my entire chest,
Is being pressed inward so hard.
Because I know you won't call me,
Or even send a Birthday card.
You don't even know the real me,
Unless you read what I'm writing here.
You won't know that confessing my feelings,
Is the biggest thing I fear.
Why He Killed Himself
I bet that 25 sleeping pills,
Would be more than enough for him to get his fill.
I bet a few sharp razor blades,
Would allow this tragic scene to slowly fade.
Perhaps all it would take is one silver bullet,
Hand on the trigger and the courage to pull it.
Should his life he end or start?
And whatever happened to his heart?
He loved too much, believe it or not,
He never found this love, but forever it was sought.
Convinced it didn't exist, he supposed he would concede,
Realizing love was not for him, he begins to slowly bleed.
Would be more than enough for him to get his fill.
I bet a few sharp razor blades,
Would allow this tragic scene to slowly fade.
Perhaps all it would take is one silver bullet,
Hand on the trigger and the courage to pull it.
Should his life he end or start?
And whatever happened to his heart?
He loved too much, believe it or not,
He never found this love, but forever it was sought.
Convinced it didn't exist, he supposed he would concede,
Realizing love was not for him, he begins to slowly bleed.
Thursday, March 09, 2006
Tag
Tag!, You're it,
It's your turn now.
You can't stop yet,
Quitting I won't allow.
Did you know what you were doing,
When you began to play this game?
I warned you with my words,
So I'm sure not to blame.
But still, I'm really happy,
That you're playing tag with me.
So run from me my darling,
While I close my eyes and count to three.
It's your turn now.
You can't stop yet,
Quitting I won't allow.
Did you know what you were doing,
When you began to play this game?
I warned you with my words,
So I'm sure not to blame.
But still, I'm really happy,
That you're playing tag with me.
So run from me my darling,
While I close my eyes and count to three.
Wednesday, March 08, 2006
Don't Mourn The Dead
You must not mourn death, for it comes to all things. You must not cry when it occurs, even though you know you are going to. There is nothing wrong with the passage of life in the world. Instead of lamenting a person's passing in this realm, rejoice in their achievements and accomplishments. Relish in their marks left upon the world, and remember them until you die, so they can continue to live on through memories.
It is not an evil thing, that death. It is something which simply governs people. It tells us that we must do what we can when we can because we can't always do it. It motivates us to do something with ourselves, because we won't have forever to do it. It is the driving force of all that is done and achieved. People do things because they will eventually die and be unable to do them.
Don't be sad when someone close dies. You're going to die too, but you won't cry for yourself (partly because you'll be dead of course). Yes, that person no longer is living, but do not insult their previous existence by wishing they were still in our world. Rather take pride in the fact that their life has reach its conclusion, which is a phenomenon in itself. The ending of life is the beginning of a new. Mourning the deceased is to be expected, but honoring them is a much more difficult, yet prideful, thing to do.
Next time a loved one dies, take pride in their life. Be proud of their life's accomplishments, and how they might have affected the way that you live. Then continue to live and pass on the joys of life to youth all across the world. Attachment will get in the way of doing this. Attachment will keep you bound emotionally to that person, and cause you to grieve. But not all is lost. We do not know what happens when we die. Some people claim they know, but they don't. Don't cry or mourn for someone when they very well may be in a separate realm and in an unhappy mood because they have caused their loved ones sadness. The deceased do not wish to cause people sadness with their passing. So do not be sad.
It is not an evil thing, that death. It is something which simply governs people. It tells us that we must do what we can when we can because we can't always do it. It motivates us to do something with ourselves, because we won't have forever to do it. It is the driving force of all that is done and achieved. People do things because they will eventually die and be unable to do them.
Don't be sad when someone close dies. You're going to die too, but you won't cry for yourself (partly because you'll be dead of course). Yes, that person no longer is living, but do not insult their previous existence by wishing they were still in our world. Rather take pride in the fact that their life has reach its conclusion, which is a phenomenon in itself. The ending of life is the beginning of a new. Mourning the deceased is to be expected, but honoring them is a much more difficult, yet prideful, thing to do.
Next time a loved one dies, take pride in their life. Be proud of their life's accomplishments, and how they might have affected the way that you live. Then continue to live and pass on the joys of life to youth all across the world. Attachment will get in the way of doing this. Attachment will keep you bound emotionally to that person, and cause you to grieve. But not all is lost. We do not know what happens when we die. Some people claim they know, but they don't. Don't cry or mourn for someone when they very well may be in a separate realm and in an unhappy mood because they have caused their loved ones sadness. The deceased do not wish to cause people sadness with their passing. So do not be sad.
Poem From A Song
**Inspired from a song that's only about a minute long but with beautifully sung lyrics about love.
Still not a day goes by,
When I don't think of you.
When I look upon the sky,
I wonder if you think of me, too.
Perhaps 'tis best to simply let go,
But a heart does not slacken with ease.
I don't wish to again love you so,
But might we be friends pretty please?
Maybe that will also fail,
But this song causes my heart to ache.
Now that my love has become so pale,
I sit and question the meaning of "fake".
---
Lyrics for "And Forever..." from Big O TV Series.
Still not a day goes by,
When I don't think of you.
When I look upon the sky,
I wonder if you think of me, too.
Perhaps 'tis best to simply let go,
But a heart does not slacken with ease.
I don't wish to again love you so,
But might we be friends pretty please?
Maybe that will also fail,
But this song causes my heart to ache.
Now that my love has become so pale,
I sit and question the meaning of "fake".
---
Lyrics for "And Forever..." from Big O TV Series.
Sometimes I feel so all alone
Finding myself callin' your name
When we're apart, so far away
Hopin' it's me that you're thinkin' of
Could it be true, could it be real?
My heart says that you're the one.
There's noone else, you're the only one for me.
Yes, this time my love's the real thing.
Never felt that love is so right.
The world seemed such an empty place.
We need someone we could give our all.
Baby, it's you, we'll be together now and forever.
Could it be true, could it be real?
My heart says that you're the one.
There's noone else, you're the only one for me.
Yes, this time my love's the real thing.
Never felt that love is so right.
The world seemed such an empty place.
We need someone we could give our all.
Baby, it's you, we'll be together now and forever.
Never felt that love is so right.
The world seemed such an empty place.
We need someone we could give our all.
Baby, it's you, we'll be together now and forever.
Tuesday, March 07, 2006
Oh, So Tired...
I died a little today,
And I died yesterday, too.
Every day I'll die a little,
Until my life is through.
Running is worthless,
As is hiding from your fears.
It's not easy to escape something,
That forever approaches and nears.
Rather I choose to stop,
And stare it in the face.
I let the ultimate harbinger know,
I won't partake in his race.
He'll beat at me every day,
Like Gandhi and the Jews.
But atleast when I die,
I won't be tired like you.
Tired from running.
And I died yesterday, too.
Every day I'll die a little,
Until my life is through.
Running is worthless,
As is hiding from your fears.
It's not easy to escape something,
That forever approaches and nears.
Rather I choose to stop,
And stare it in the face.
I let the ultimate harbinger know,
I won't partake in his race.
He'll beat at me every day,
Like Gandhi and the Jews.
But atleast when I die,
I won't be tired like you.
Tired from running.
It's Like A Boomerang
I've had you,
Hated you,
Cherished you,
Wanted you.
I've lost you and yet,
I want you back with me.
Life's addictive drug, I say!
That both condemns your heart, and sets it free.
A juicy stick of gum,
Once so flavorful and rich.
Will soon dry up and sour,
Like dried leaves in a ditch.
You'll rake the leaves up,
And throw them in the fire.
Then buy a new stick of gum,
Never ceasing to aspire.
No matter how hard you try,
You'll always want another.
And imagining life without it,
Causes even a hero to shudder.
Love.
Hated you,
Cherished you,
Wanted you.
I've lost you and yet,
I want you back with me.
Life's addictive drug, I say!
That both condemns your heart, and sets it free.
A juicy stick of gum,
Once so flavorful and rich.
Will soon dry up and sour,
Like dried leaves in a ditch.
You'll rake the leaves up,
And throw them in the fire.
Then buy a new stick of gum,
Never ceasing to aspire.
No matter how hard you try,
You'll always want another.
And imagining life without it,
Causes even a hero to shudder.
Love.
Stray
For ever as I'm alive,
Going to live as I choose.
I live life with no regrets,
'Cause I got nothing to lose.
A stray so alone,
Not a love or a job.
Nothing is behind me,
Not even a family or a dog.
The memories of life,
Float around on the inside.
Tears fall when I recall,
Those memories have not yet died.
I forgot how to open up,
A long, long time ago.
A stray who walks alone,
A thing which noone will know.
If I were to cry,
Would tears touch the ground?
Would they fall down sadly,
And never be found?
Stray.
Going to live as I choose.
I live life with no regrets,
'Cause I got nothing to lose.
A stray so alone,
Not a love or a job.
Nothing is behind me,
Not even a family or a dog.
The memories of life,
Float around on the inside.
Tears fall when I recall,
Those memories have not yet died.
I forgot how to open up,
A long, long time ago.
A stray who walks alone,
A thing which noone will know.
If I were to cry,
Would tears touch the ground?
Would they fall down sadly,
And never be found?
Stray.
Saturday, March 04, 2006
Bees-Me-We Together Make Three
Sometimes I'm overwhelmed,
At the sheer number of people I see.
They're all beautiful and smart,
And I am just another bee.
My buzz is low and I fly slowly,
Taking care not to attract attention.
Inevitably they all fly quickly past,
I'm punished by my own detention.
I wonder if the biologists know,
That the unattractive bee is the worst.
Even though it's color is slightly dull,
And moves about as if it were cursed.
Because its life will be the longest,
And that's the only goal bees possess.
When the bee is old and wise,
He'll reside lonely and above the rest.
At the sheer number of people I see.
They're all beautiful and smart,
And I am just another bee.
My buzz is low and I fly slowly,
Taking care not to attract attention.
Inevitably they all fly quickly past,
I'm punished by my own detention.
I wonder if the biologists know,
That the unattractive bee is the worst.
Even though it's color is slightly dull,
And moves about as if it were cursed.
Because its life will be the longest,
And that's the only goal bees possess.
When the bee is old and wise,
He'll reside lonely and above the rest.
329-721...
Three-Two-Nine-Seven,
Only three more to go.
Two-One, I can't do it,
Maybe I'll try tomorrow.
Three-Two-Nine-Seven,
This time I'll do it, I know.
Two-One, My fingers lock up,
Maybe I'll try again tomorrow.
Three-Two-Nine-Seven,
My love to you I'll show,
Two-One, Do you love me?
Guess I'll find out tomorrow.
Three-Two-Nine-Seven,
Time to stop acting like a sheep.
Two-One-Four, I did it!
"Please leave a message at the beep."
Only three more to go.
Two-One, I can't do it,
Maybe I'll try tomorrow.
Three-Two-Nine-Seven,
This time I'll do it, I know.
Two-One, My fingers lock up,
Maybe I'll try again tomorrow.
Three-Two-Nine-Seven,
My love to you I'll show,
Two-One, Do you love me?
Guess I'll find out tomorrow.
Three-Two-Nine-Seven,
Time to stop acting like a sheep.
Two-One-Four, I did it!
"Please leave a message at the beep."
My Disease
The disease that I have,
Is I care a little too much.
I love you and them,
And that and such and such.
So when you feel pain,
I surely will feel it, too.
My disease never dies,
For each day it's born anew.
Why do I feel for others?
What a silly question to ask.
If I don't - then who will?
No one wants this taxing task.
But I take it nonetheless,
Knowing it must be someone's job.
Even if it steals my heart,
And my sanity it might rob.
Someone has to carry the pain,
Whether a friend or a Giver,*
Even if it rocks my mind,
And causes my soul to shiver.
---
*The Giver is a book about a person who controls all the emotions and such thoughts (both good and bad) for a society. Thus he carries with him the burden of having all the negative feelings of pain, war, and the like.
Is I care a little too much.
I love you and them,
And that and such and such.
So when you feel pain,
I surely will feel it, too.
My disease never dies,
For each day it's born anew.
Why do I feel for others?
What a silly question to ask.
If I don't - then who will?
No one wants this taxing task.
But I take it nonetheless,
Knowing it must be someone's job.
Even if it steals my heart,
And my sanity it might rob.
Someone has to carry the pain,
Whether a friend or a Giver,*
Even if it rocks my mind,
And causes my soul to shiver.
---
*The Giver is a book about a person who controls all the emotions and such thoughts (both good and bad) for a society. Thus he carries with him the burden of having all the negative feelings of pain, war, and the like.
Cheesy Love Poem
You're the only person that he loves,
Like two majestic turtle doves.
He wants you to know that when you part,
You'll be gone, but still have his heart.
Thousands of miles apart in a land far away,
On a lonely bed by yourself you lay.
His touch is gone, and his love is foreign,
Your soul is lonely, but your heart is soaring.
How long will you wait this time,
Before you board the overseas airline?
Every second is a dagger to the chest,
Each new one is sharper than the rest.
But he's not going to leave, he'll always be there,
Time will not destroy his love or will to care.
Despite the hurt, and despite intense pain,
He'll be there waiting, when you step off the plane.
So don't stop loving him.
Like two majestic turtle doves.
He wants you to know that when you part,
You'll be gone, but still have his heart.
Thousands of miles apart in a land far away,
On a lonely bed by yourself you lay.
His touch is gone, and his love is foreign,
Your soul is lonely, but your heart is soaring.
How long will you wait this time,
Before you board the overseas airline?
Every second is a dagger to the chest,
Each new one is sharper than the rest.
But he's not going to leave, he'll always be there,
Time will not destroy his love or will to care.
Despite the hurt, and despite intense pain,
He'll be there waiting, when you step off the plane.
So don't stop loving him.
For: You-Know-Who (Or Maybe You Don't)
He's a lonely man,
But that's okay.
He had a special night,
Despite his bad day.
Special because of you,
But I don't think that you'll know.
You're an angel in a disguise,
That to yourself will never show.
He sees your wings and halo,
Even if they are just fake.
Even though he had a bad day,
His happiness you did make.
His advice to you,
Is to love who you are.
Love will come and go,
But from yourself you're never far.
Husbands and boyfriends,
Will all come and go.
But it's worth it to love yourself,
That's what he wants you to know.
"Good-night" until we meet again,
If that meeting should occur.
You're going to find true love one day,
Of that fact I am proudly sure.
But that's okay.
He had a special night,
Despite his bad day.
Special because of you,
But I don't think that you'll know.
You're an angel in a disguise,
That to yourself will never show.
He sees your wings and halo,
Even if they are just fake.
Even though he had a bad day,
His happiness you did make.
His advice to you,
Is to love who you are.
Love will come and go,
But from yourself you're never far.
Husbands and boyfriends,
Will all come and go.
But it's worth it to love yourself,
That's what he wants you to know.
"Good-night" until we meet again,
If that meeting should occur.
You're going to find true love one day,
Of that fact I am proudly sure.
Thursday, March 02, 2006
After Giving It Some Thought...
Our lives occur in periods, or eras. We have distinct lengths of time in our past which can be identified by one or two significant factors which at the time helped to shape us in to who we are today. If a person looks back on these time periods with regret, however, they will be wasting time. Any time spent lamenting the spent time on previous periods of eras of one's life is time that could be spent building a new era.
Often times it is very hard to move on from one period to the next. Sometimes there are transition periods where we aren't really motivated by anything at all. In fifty to sixty years I'll be looking back at the important periods and eras of my life. Only time will tell what those periods and eras of the future will be. My existence may mean nothing to the cosmos, but it can hold purpose and meaning if I allow the periods and eras to stand for who I am. The actions or emotions felt during periods and eras not only affect who you think you are, but also the entity you are perceived to be by other souls.
I'm just experiencing the end of an era. Such periods in my life are to be expected, and I must be ready to deal with them. Enough of these ramblings I've been posting the last few days.
It's time to get back to poetry.
I'm back everyone.
Often times it is very hard to move on from one period to the next. Sometimes there are transition periods where we aren't really motivated by anything at all. In fifty to sixty years I'll be looking back at the important periods and eras of my life. Only time will tell what those periods and eras of the future will be. My existence may mean nothing to the cosmos, but it can hold purpose and meaning if I allow the periods and eras to stand for who I am. The actions or emotions felt during periods and eras not only affect who you think you are, but also the entity you are perceived to be by other souls.
I'm just experiencing the end of an era. Such periods in my life are to be expected, and I must be ready to deal with them. Enough of these ramblings I've been posting the last few days.
It's time to get back to poetry.
I'm back everyone.
*The following is what happens when I close my eyes*
*The following is subjective material of a person who had a bad day*
I see you both. One represents my hope, and one represents my despair. Two different people, and they probably don't even know that they mean so much to me. I'm taken back to a specific night, or multiple nights. I can't be sure, although I do know that it is night time, and I'm driving. Something about the night is good at that particular moment, although I'm not sure what it is. Little did I know that disappointment awaited me at my destination.
Part of me wants to pity myself for being so lonely. Then part of me wants to blame myself for being so shy. Then part of myself wants to be angry for not changing who I am to meet people. Then a part of me wants to pity myself again for being shy. Then part of me wants to be strong, and a part of me hates that word strong. I can be strong by myself, but I might not necessarily want to. If a person doesn't know what they want, then no matter how hard they work they can't get it. I suppose that's the point I'm at right now. Something like that anyway.
It kind of hurts to see other people with friends, knowing that I don't really have any. It hurts worse to know that it is my fault that I don't have friends. I don't mean something is wrong with me - other than I just suck at making friends and meeting new people. I can see why sometimes. If I wasn't me I would probably think that someone just figured I'd rather be left alone. But someone has to tell them that that is not true. I'm kind of tired of being alone to be honest. The only few people in my life have finally stepped out, so part of me can truly say I'm alone. I'd imagine it is only a matter of time now...
Sometimes I'll look at my cell phone and give a sad smile. I smile because no one ever calls me except my family. Then again, I don't give my number out, so people won't call if they don't know it, and they won't know it if I don't talk to them. Back to the pity thing again. Part of me really wants to pity myself, and part of me refuses to. Feeling sorry for yourself won't really ever get you anywhere, even if it does feel really good to do sometimes.
Maybe something really is wrong with me. Maybe the something that's wrong with me is that I'm trying to find out what's wrong with me. I was never good at conversing with strangers, even though I preach about broadening of horizons and all that crap. If I die tomorrow, will it have mattered if I talked to those few extra people during the day? Of course not. You can understand my dilemma a little more if you understand the fact that I know that it is worth it, and I know that every opportunity should be taken to grow as a human being, and yet still let my fear overcome me. Whatever is inside of me that's causing me all these problems is really, really nasty.
Besides killing myself the alternatives that arise are to overcome this thing or submit to it. I was never one for giving up very easily, so I'll keep fighting. I'm beginning to wonder for what purpose I'm fighting though, other than to survive of course. If the only significance my life holds is survival than I don't want to continue living. I'd rather die and laugh in the face of fate. Atleast then I'd be having some fun.
I see you both. One represents my hope, and one represents my despair. Two different people, and they probably don't even know that they mean so much to me. I'm taken back to a specific night, or multiple nights. I can't be sure, although I do know that it is night time, and I'm driving. Something about the night is good at that particular moment, although I'm not sure what it is. Little did I know that disappointment awaited me at my destination.
Part of me wants to pity myself for being so lonely. Then part of me wants to blame myself for being so shy. Then part of myself wants to be angry for not changing who I am to meet people. Then a part of me wants to pity myself again for being shy. Then part of me wants to be strong, and a part of me hates that word strong. I can be strong by myself, but I might not necessarily want to. If a person doesn't know what they want, then no matter how hard they work they can't get it. I suppose that's the point I'm at right now. Something like that anyway.
It kind of hurts to see other people with friends, knowing that I don't really have any. It hurts worse to know that it is my fault that I don't have friends. I don't mean something is wrong with me - other than I just suck at making friends and meeting new people. I can see why sometimes. If I wasn't me I would probably think that someone just figured I'd rather be left alone. But someone has to tell them that that is not true. I'm kind of tired of being alone to be honest. The only few people in my life have finally stepped out, so part of me can truly say I'm alone. I'd imagine it is only a matter of time now...
Sometimes I'll look at my cell phone and give a sad smile. I smile because no one ever calls me except my family. Then again, I don't give my number out, so people won't call if they don't know it, and they won't know it if I don't talk to them. Back to the pity thing again. Part of me really wants to pity myself, and part of me refuses to. Feeling sorry for yourself won't really ever get you anywhere, even if it does feel really good to do sometimes.
Maybe something really is wrong with me. Maybe the something that's wrong with me is that I'm trying to find out what's wrong with me. I was never good at conversing with strangers, even though I preach about broadening of horizons and all that crap. If I die tomorrow, will it have mattered if I talked to those few extra people during the day? Of course not. You can understand my dilemma a little more if you understand the fact that I know that it is worth it, and I know that every opportunity should be taken to grow as a human being, and yet still let my fear overcome me. Whatever is inside of me that's causing me all these problems is really, really nasty.
Besides killing myself the alternatives that arise are to overcome this thing or submit to it. I was never one for giving up very easily, so I'll keep fighting. I'm beginning to wonder for what purpose I'm fighting though, other than to survive of course. If the only significance my life holds is survival than I don't want to continue living. I'd rather die and laugh in the face of fate. Atleast then I'd be having some fun.
Good-Bye (This Is The Last Time, I Swear)
I thought that I really loved her. I really believed that I did. Every time I'd leave the house to go to work or school was always just time that I was waiting to be with her again. I was never sad because I was alone, because I knew she was there, and that she loved me. I even looked on the positive side of life for once. She didn't teach me new things or make me a better person, but she gave me hope. A hope that nothing had ever achieved before, and has never achieved since.
Maybe that love wasn't really love, but just hope. Just knowledge that maybe out there it is possible for someone to be right for me, I just have to look. Either way I was shown this possibility and mistook it as love. It isn't a very good feeling when you look back at the past two years and admit to yourself it was all a lie. You have to move on with the knowledge that you wasted so much time and energy on a fruitless effort.
I suppose then it was good for me, as it helped me get through obstacles that would have otherwise crushed me. I suppose it is like this:
I had to jump over this really big boulder in order to move on in my life. This person was like a vault who launched me up and over it. After I got over it, though, all that was left was to crash down on the other side. I can move on now, but I'm not necessarily in any better condition than I was before.
This conflict/battle/etc. is one that takes place in my head and my heart. I can get help, but ultimately there's only one person that can help me, myself (so cliche). I don't know how many times we've said good-bye thinking it was the last time, only to come running back to each other when it hurt too much.
There's a book series called 'His Dark Materials' in which people have things called daemons. If a daemon and a person walk in opposite directions, both feel extreme pain, since the daemon is symbolic of a person's soul/spirit. In a few ways I feel we shared a similar relationship. Something would happen, we'd walk away. The pain would ultimately be too much to bear, and we'd be sprung back like some kind of emotional bungee cord.
I'm not really worried about the pain this time, though. You've hurt me enough for me to be strong enough to atleast endure that much. I've learned alot, but lost alot more. I suppose it is better to lay a brick a day for your entire life, rather than lay a bunch at once and then quit. So I'm going to keep laying bricks. Right after I finish knocking the ones down that you built.
Maybe that love wasn't really love, but just hope. Just knowledge that maybe out there it is possible for someone to be right for me, I just have to look. Either way I was shown this possibility and mistook it as love. It isn't a very good feeling when you look back at the past two years and admit to yourself it was all a lie. You have to move on with the knowledge that you wasted so much time and energy on a fruitless effort.
I suppose then it was good for me, as it helped me get through obstacles that would have otherwise crushed me. I suppose it is like this:
I had to jump over this really big boulder in order to move on in my life. This person was like a vault who launched me up and over it. After I got over it, though, all that was left was to crash down on the other side. I can move on now, but I'm not necessarily in any better condition than I was before.
This conflict/battle/etc. is one that takes place in my head and my heart. I can get help, but ultimately there's only one person that can help me, myself (so cliche). I don't know how many times we've said good-bye thinking it was the last time, only to come running back to each other when it hurt too much.
There's a book series called 'His Dark Materials' in which people have things called daemons. If a daemon and a person walk in opposite directions, both feel extreme pain, since the daemon is symbolic of a person's soul/spirit. In a few ways I feel we shared a similar relationship. Something would happen, we'd walk away. The pain would ultimately be too much to bear, and we'd be sprung back like some kind of emotional bungee cord.
I'm not really worried about the pain this time, though. You've hurt me enough for me to be strong enough to atleast endure that much. I've learned alot, but lost alot more. I suppose it is better to lay a brick a day for your entire life, rather than lay a bunch at once and then quit. So I'm going to keep laying bricks. Right after I finish knocking the ones down that you built.
Writing Only Goes So Far
There's a reason I didn't call,
But you wouldn't understand.
I wish I was exciting,
But I'm nothing but boring and bland.
I'm told I can write,
But that's no big deal.
Simple words on a page,
Cannot my heart steal.
Instead of calling,
I write to you here.
What keeps me from speaking,
Is some unknown fear.
Shy and reserved,
But a great person overall.
What a tragedy I hide,
A masterpiece in hidden hall.*
My conscience runs deep,
Through miles and miles of my soul.
It skips a step where my heart's supposed to be,
As if it were a little lump of black coal.
---
*Masterpiece is hidden hall is alluding to a great work of art in the form of a painting hidden in a hidden hallway. The painting is magnificent and amazing, but no one will ever get to see it because it is secluded away.
But you wouldn't understand.
I wish I was exciting,
But I'm nothing but boring and bland.
I'm told I can write,
But that's no big deal.
Simple words on a page,
Cannot my heart steal.
Instead of calling,
I write to you here.
What keeps me from speaking,
Is some unknown fear.
Shy and reserved,
But a great person overall.
What a tragedy I hide,
A masterpiece in hidden hall.*
My conscience runs deep,
Through miles and miles of my soul.
It skips a step where my heart's supposed to be,
As if it were a little lump of black coal.
---
*Masterpiece is hidden hall is alluding to a great work of art in the form of a painting hidden in a hidden hallway. The painting is magnificent and amazing, but no one will ever get to see it because it is secluded away.
Short Poem Before Sleep
I should be in bed right about now,
But going to sleep I cannot allow.
If I fall asleep I might not think of you,
So I stay awake, 'til half-past two.
Maybe you're awake miles and miles away,
You're awake in my mind, and there to stay.
I might pass out, since I'm tired, it seems.
Alas I still have you, waiting in my dreams.
But going to sleep I cannot allow.
If I fall asleep I might not think of you,
So I stay awake, 'til half-past two.
Maybe you're awake miles and miles away,
You're awake in my mind, and there to stay.
I might pass out, since I'm tired, it seems.
Alas I still have you, waiting in my dreams.
Firefly
Firefly that's burning bright,
You fill the air with your light.
It draws me in, captivates my heart,
From left to right you quickly dart.
I gaze at you with longing stare,
Wishing you could be mine to care.
I dare not touch that light like a match,
And wonder how you I could possibly catch.
With an outstretched palm should I wait?
Will waiting long cause my heart to abate?
Should I try to grasp you with all my might?
Would you submit to me or put up a fight?
Your light wavers between bright and dim,
A testament to my love, so fragile and thin.
If I manage to catch you I'm keeping you for sure,
I wonder if I'll find it, and if I'll love her.*
---
*The last line differs from the others because "it" now replaces "you". The "you" subject of the poem is now gone, since it only existed in my head in the first place. The "you" does refer to a specific subject, and the last line is a clue as to what kind of subject it is.
You fill the air with your light.
It draws me in, captivates my heart,
From left to right you quickly dart.
I gaze at you with longing stare,
Wishing you could be mine to care.
I dare not touch that light like a match,
And wonder how you I could possibly catch.
With an outstretched palm should I wait?
Will waiting long cause my heart to abate?
Should I try to grasp you with all my might?
Would you submit to me or put up a fight?
Your light wavers between bright and dim,
A testament to my love, so fragile and thin.
If I manage to catch you I'm keeping you for sure,
I wonder if I'll find it, and if I'll love her.*
---
*The last line differs from the others because "it" now replaces "you". The "you" subject of the poem is now gone, since it only existed in my head in the first place. The "you" does refer to a specific subject, and the last line is a clue as to what kind of subject it is.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)