Monday, December 15, 2008
Monday, December 1, 2008
The Thoughts Of Two Dying Men
The headline screamed, "God! Not again!". The photo beneath it showed a man, lying in a pool of blood. Another man knelt beside him but the dying man showed no response. One look at his eyes and you knew he was gone. He was gone, yet there was still so much to read within those eyes. His face was familiar, it had been plastered across magazines newspapers and tabloids for years. A Senator, brother to the slain President, shown here, dying, in the morning news.
Minutes before, he had been greeting supporters, smiles and handshakes all around. His face beamed to match the faces of those around him. He just received news that he had won over California in the presidential primaries. He turns to greet another beaming face when it hits. Three shots, a fourth tearing through his jacket. Two to the head, one through the arm. He hits the floor and the people swarm. A scuffle occurs nearby as his friends and bodyguards wrestle the man with the gun to the floor. A circle opens up and the Senator is displayed. A man crouches near him, attempting to stop the bleeding. Cameras flicker.
What went through the mind of this man as he lay there, two bullets in his brain? Did he think, Oh God, what is happening? Was I just shot am I dying? Or did he know, did he know that he was about to die? Did he think of his killer and wish pain upon him? Did he think to try and stand? Did he think of his brother, slain five years before? Or his children, all ten, soon to be eleven, or his wife, his smiling blonde haired wife... Were his thoughts of his country? Did he wonder at who might take his place in the election, his seat in the Senate? Or was he gone the moment the shots were fired.
The man doesn't truly die until 26 hours later, in a hospital on June 6 1968. Yet you look at the photograph...and see that he is already gone.
It's dark. The street is empty, save for one; a young man in a ragged jacket, tousled hair and unshaven face. He stumbles down the sidewalk, bottle in hand. The neighborhood is derelict. Houses with broken windows and boarded doors flank the bare streets. Drunken thoughts play dice in the mans head, making foolish gambles and losing every time. He walks the streets at an early hour and sees no one.
Old memories glimmer within the alcohol haze. A birthday party, smiles and cake. His father, fist upraised.
The man takes another swallow of the vodka in his hand. He revels in the burn as it scrapes its way down his throat.
More memories. His mother crying at the table, bills all around and no money to spare. Long, hungry nights spent in parks and under bridges. His father again, the fist swinging down to meet the huddled form of his mother.
Bitter tears prick the corners of his eyes and etch a burning path down his cheeks.
An angry teen takes a swing at his father. The same teen is thrown against a wall. A woman screams. And screams. And screams.
The man is downtown. Blinding lights leave spots in his eyes. He pushes through the crowds, barely listening to their frenzied conversation.
Dead? He can't be...
How can he be alive, he was shot in the head twice-
I won't believe it-
Just like his brother-
Tragic-
Women were sobbing, men were shaking their heads and everyone looked panicked.
Kennedy? Bobby Kennedy? It can't be
He just won California in the primaries!
Who's the bastard that shot him, I swear I'll kill him
The man didn't know who Bobby Kennedy was or why he was so important. He drank more and continued on.
A teen living on the streets, scavenging and stealing to stay alive. Prison. Six months in, nine out, a year back in, three years out, three months and here he was. Walking in Los Angeles, not a penny to his name and a closet full of ghosts.
He wandered down the alleys, stumbling the whole way. He was awfully tired. Hadn't slept well in months.
There was a slight breeze on the warm June night. He reached a bridge. Cars roared across it, but barely registered in the young man's mind. He swallowed the last of the vodka, gritting his teeth while it burned.
A life of nothing. That's what he had. No family, no friends, no money, no job. Nothing. Filled with sudden fury, the man screamed. All his frustration, all his hate, all of his resentment was poured out in one agonizing breath. He flung the empty bottle off into the dark water.
There was stillness. He stopped and listened. He could feel his heart pound on every inch of his skin. He felt alive, truly alive, and in a moment of clarity mounted the rail of the bridge and stepped off.
Minutes before, he had been greeting supporters, smiles and handshakes all around. His face beamed to match the faces of those around him. He just received news that he had won over California in the presidential primaries. He turns to greet another beaming face when it hits. Three shots, a fourth tearing through his jacket. Two to the head, one through the arm. He hits the floor and the people swarm. A scuffle occurs nearby as his friends and bodyguards wrestle the man with the gun to the floor. A circle opens up and the Senator is displayed. A man crouches near him, attempting to stop the bleeding. Cameras flicker.
What went through the mind of this man as he lay there, two bullets in his brain? Did he think, Oh God, what is happening? Was I just shot am I dying? Or did he know, did he know that he was about to die? Did he think of his killer and wish pain upon him? Did he think to try and stand? Did he think of his brother, slain five years before? Or his children, all ten, soon to be eleven, or his wife, his smiling blonde haired wife... Were his thoughts of his country? Did he wonder at who might take his place in the election, his seat in the Senate? Or was he gone the moment the shots were fired.
The man doesn't truly die until 26 hours later, in a hospital on June 6 1968. Yet you look at the photograph...and see that he is already gone.
It's dark. The street is empty, save for one; a young man in a ragged jacket, tousled hair and unshaven face. He stumbles down the sidewalk, bottle in hand. The neighborhood is derelict. Houses with broken windows and boarded doors flank the bare streets. Drunken thoughts play dice in the mans head, making foolish gambles and losing every time. He walks the streets at an early hour and sees no one.
Old memories glimmer within the alcohol haze. A birthday party, smiles and cake. His father, fist upraised.
The man takes another swallow of the vodka in his hand. He revels in the burn as it scrapes its way down his throat.
More memories. His mother crying at the table, bills all around and no money to spare. Long, hungry nights spent in parks and under bridges. His father again, the fist swinging down to meet the huddled form of his mother.
Bitter tears prick the corners of his eyes and etch a burning path down his cheeks.
An angry teen takes a swing at his father. The same teen is thrown against a wall. A woman screams. And screams. And screams.
The man is downtown. Blinding lights leave spots in his eyes. He pushes through the crowds, barely listening to their frenzied conversation.
Dead? He can't be...
How can he be alive, he was shot in the head twice-
I won't believe it-
Just like his brother-
Tragic-
Women were sobbing, men were shaking their heads and everyone looked panicked.
Kennedy? Bobby Kennedy? It can't be
He just won California in the primaries!
Who's the bastard that shot him, I swear I'll kill him
The man didn't know who Bobby Kennedy was or why he was so important. He drank more and continued on.
A teen living on the streets, scavenging and stealing to stay alive. Prison. Six months in, nine out, a year back in, three years out, three months and here he was. Walking in Los Angeles, not a penny to his name and a closet full of ghosts.
He wandered down the alleys, stumbling the whole way. He was awfully tired. Hadn't slept well in months.
There was a slight breeze on the warm June night. He reached a bridge. Cars roared across it, but barely registered in the young man's mind. He swallowed the last of the vodka, gritting his teeth while it burned.
A life of nothing. That's what he had. No family, no friends, no money, no job. Nothing. Filled with sudden fury, the man screamed. All his frustration, all his hate, all of his resentment was poured out in one agonizing breath. He flung the empty bottle off into the dark water.
There was stillness. He stopped and listened. He could feel his heart pound on every inch of his skin. He felt alive, truly alive, and in a moment of clarity mounted the rail of the bridge and stepped off.
Wednesday, November 19, 2008
Dear Friday,
Um...come back in two weeks? Kthxbai.
Schedule for Friday is as follows...
7:11am Breakfast Club
9:15am Donate blood
10:30am Precalc quiz on trigonometric functions D:
11:45am Art History quiz
3:30pm One Act Meeting
3:30pm Italian
6:30 call for Once Upon a Mattress
Schedule for Thursday makes this stuff a problem...
8:25-11:05am Class
11:05-6:30pm Intense study session. Massive amounts of information need to be ingested an comprehended. Like, all trigonometric functions, 80 or so images for art history, plus vocabulary terms and central and basilican church plans.
6:30-10pm? Once Upon A Mattress. So, little sleep for the craziness that will ensue on Friday.
Ack. This uh...won't be fun. Maybe I'll go to bed early tonight. After I finish writing a page of bullshit for American history. Oh right, I just remembered, I need to have all 44 presidents memorized by Friday also. Huzzah.
Schedule for Friday is as follows...
7:11am Breakfast Club
9:15am Donate blood
10:30am Precalc quiz on trigonometric functions D:
11:45am Art History quiz
3:30pm One Act Meeting
3:30pm Italian
6:30 call for Once Upon a Mattress
Schedule for Thursday makes this stuff a problem...
8:25-11:05am Class
11:05-6:30pm Intense study session. Massive amounts of information need to be ingested an comprehended. Like, all trigonometric functions, 80 or so images for art history, plus vocabulary terms and central and basilican church plans.
6:30-10pm? Once Upon A Mattress. So, little sleep for the craziness that will ensue on Friday.
Ack. This uh...won't be fun. Maybe I'll go to bed early tonight. After I finish writing a page of bullshit for American history. Oh right, I just remembered, I need to have all 44 presidents memorized by Friday also. Huzzah.
Friday, November 14, 2008
Dear Puppeteer,
I wish more people could see who you really are. You are cold and you are manipulative. I watched that tonight, in that little microcosm I saw it, plain as day. And I saw how no one else did. They were amused little sheep and you were the crafty herder.
It was an impressive display don't get me wrong. But how can you justify that? In a game, it's fine, that's what that game is all about, but that isn't where it ends with you. It's cruel to continue playing a game after the game has finished and people no longer know they are playing.
You are the puppet master and they are the puppets. With a twitch of the line they dance, a sharp tug and they fall. You place yourself above people. In your own mind, you are above others. You watch as they swirl and tumble and you nudge them, here and there. You play God. How can you do that? How do you not see the cruelty? There is no reason to be that way. I've no objection to you sitting above people, watching, but when you intervene and push them to do your bidding, that I have a problem with.
Consider someone other than yourself once. Only once. And imagine yourself in their position.
It was an impressive display don't get me wrong. But how can you justify that? In a game, it's fine, that's what that game is all about, but that isn't where it ends with you. It's cruel to continue playing a game after the game has finished and people no longer know they are playing.
You are the puppet master and they are the puppets. With a twitch of the line they dance, a sharp tug and they fall. You place yourself above people. In your own mind, you are above others. You watch as they swirl and tumble and you nudge them, here and there. You play God. How can you do that? How do you not see the cruelty? There is no reason to be that way. I've no objection to you sitting above people, watching, but when you intervene and push them to do your bidding, that I have a problem with.
Consider someone other than yourself once. Only once. And imagine yourself in their position.
Thursday, November 13, 2008
Dear Reader,
I am a coward. I was tagged one of those chain notes on facebook, you know the kind. I thought, hey, neat concept, but I lack the courage to actually post 16 things people don't know about me because they don't know them because I don't want them to. Oh well.
Dear sporadic reader,
I hope you enjoy reading these things few people know.
1. I have no faith. In anyone or anything. Living without faith is not an enjoyable thing and I am trying desperately to correct this.
2. TWLOHA Day only makes me more depressed. It's....it seems like a fad. How many people actually take the time to think about what it truly means. Writing love on your arm means almost nothing. It's a cute reminder but the marker or pen or whatever washes away and nothing is accomplished.
3. I am terribly afraid of falling in love again. I feel like if it happens again soon, I'll run away. As far as I can, just so I won't be hurt again.
4. I hate being alone.
5. I also hate how much of a hypocrite I can be.
6. I don't think I ever want children. I am too afraid that I won't love them or they won't love me or they'll grow up to be horrible little people.
7. I love teaching. I love it I love it I love it. I love the rush of joy I recieve from helping a child grasp a new concept.
8. My ultimate dream in life, is to start a refugee school for young children in the Middle East with their families. The school would be somewhere in Europe, Scotland hopefully :D, and I could then teach and help many many people. It would be beautiful. It's unlikely, but...I enjoy spending time in that daydream.
9. I am terrified of next year, when all of my close friends are gone. I don't know who I'll call when I need to be with someone I don't know who I'll talk to about things....It won't be fun....
10. I don't dare post more.
Dear sporadic reader,
I hope you enjoy reading these things few people know.
1. I have no faith. In anyone or anything. Living without faith is not an enjoyable thing and I am trying desperately to correct this.
2. TWLOHA Day only makes me more depressed. It's....it seems like a fad. How many people actually take the time to think about what it truly means. Writing love on your arm means almost nothing. It's a cute reminder but the marker or pen or whatever washes away and nothing is accomplished.
3. I am terribly afraid of falling in love again. I feel like if it happens again soon, I'll run away. As far as I can, just so I won't be hurt again.
4. I hate being alone.
5. I also hate how much of a hypocrite I can be.
6. I don't think I ever want children. I am too afraid that I won't love them or they won't love me or they'll grow up to be horrible little people.
7. I love teaching. I love it I love it I love it. I love the rush of joy I recieve from helping a child grasp a new concept.
8. My ultimate dream in life, is to start a refugee school for young children in the Middle East with their families. The school would be somewhere in Europe, Scotland hopefully :D, and I could then teach and help many many people. It would be beautiful. It's unlikely, but...I enjoy spending time in that daydream.
9. I am terrified of next year, when all of my close friends are gone. I don't know who I'll call when I need to be with someone I don't know who I'll talk to about things....It won't be fun....
10. I don't dare post more.
Tuesday, October 28, 2008
Dear ___?
I was almost there. I was so close to being done with this mess. I felt whole again and boy was it wonderful. For the first time in months, maybe a year, I could see the future clearly, I believed I had a future. I was no longer surprised that I had made it this far. I was ready to never feel surprised about waking up in the morning. Then....Then I don't know what happened.
Relapse. Total and utter relapse. Square one, game over, restart. Out of remission, enter malignant stage.
Maybe my remission was a fluke. A simple, easily explained fluke brought on by discovering a place I could possibly belong. A beautiful university in Scotland, far from all of this... It's perfect. Brimming with history, it's 600 years old, set near the coast in a stunning medieval setting. And it was attainable too. I could do it I could make it there. Get accepted to a mediocre university in Michigan and I'm there. I was filled with love, a new love of a place I've never visited but a place where I've known since I was young that I would be happy. Why the past tense? Why am I using past tense when I know full well that I could achieve my dream? I think...I think I lost faith. Again. Faith in myself. I lost faith that I can continue on my chosen path or any path for that matter.
I envy people who have faith. Any type of faith, faith in a deity, faith in another person, faith in themselves. I have a complete lack of faith. I don't need to believe in a deity, I'm far too cynical for that. But I envy those who have someone else they can put their faith in. I...I envy their ability to trust. I can't trust anyone anymore. I'm unable. It's not "I won't trust" it's "I can't trust". I can't trust therefore I can't have faith which means I can't.....I just can't. I want to, I need to find someone I can put all of my trust in but there aren't any in sight. I picture it in my head and all I see is me divulging everything to them and them leaving me. Again... I can't have that happen again, it would be too much I would break. I would fall and be crushed and never get back up. People who read this might claim that they're trustworthy, they can handle it, but... I don't have faith in that... because I can't trust...
Which brings me back to you. You, the one who left me this way. I think I hate you. But, I don't want to admit that because I believe to truly hate someone you first have to love them and I don't want to love you. You have proved yourself undeserving yet it remains. Die? Please? Something. I hope your new love crushes your heart and then you realize you're gay. Perfect solution. It'll never happen. That was immature I apologize. But I meant every word. Karma karma karma...
Mania. I might be insane. Distinct possibility.
This is circular. Cyclical. Once you're in a circle, how do you get out? Going round a track you never reach the end. Now what....jump it? How? Or maybe you walk around and around and around until you've worn down the path and reached China? China is far enough away, maybe I'll go there. Scotland would be optimal though.
Maybe I'm just tired. Weary, worn down from constantly thinking about this. I want to leave this town. Skip the next two years, jump forward to the future I already have planned. This is just fluff. Unnecessary fluff.
Digression.
Love is a latent blood virus. First, you feel fine. Better even. But then the virus becomes active. It rips you apart from the inside. It hurts all over and doesn't fade. But what's the cure? Another, more powerful virus? What happens when that one goes active?
On track.
I want to get better. I really do. But I don't know how. I know I need to leave this town. I need to start again. I don't need to endure two more years I don't think I can.
Relapse. Total and utter relapse. Square one, game over, restart. Out of remission, enter malignant stage.
Maybe my remission was a fluke. A simple, easily explained fluke brought on by discovering a place I could possibly belong. A beautiful university in Scotland, far from all of this... It's perfect. Brimming with history, it's 600 years old, set near the coast in a stunning medieval setting. And it was attainable too. I could do it I could make it there. Get accepted to a mediocre university in Michigan and I'm there. I was filled with love, a new love of a place I've never visited but a place where I've known since I was young that I would be happy. Why the past tense? Why am I using past tense when I know full well that I could achieve my dream? I think...I think I lost faith. Again. Faith in myself. I lost faith that I can continue on my chosen path or any path for that matter.
I envy people who have faith. Any type of faith, faith in a deity, faith in another person, faith in themselves. I have a complete lack of faith. I don't need to believe in a deity, I'm far too cynical for that. But I envy those who have someone else they can put their faith in. I...I envy their ability to trust. I can't trust anyone anymore. I'm unable. It's not "I won't trust" it's "I can't trust". I can't trust therefore I can't have faith which means I can't.....I just can't. I want to, I need to find someone I can put all of my trust in but there aren't any in sight. I picture it in my head and all I see is me divulging everything to them and them leaving me. Again... I can't have that happen again, it would be too much I would break. I would fall and be crushed and never get back up. People who read this might claim that they're trustworthy, they can handle it, but... I don't have faith in that... because I can't trust...
Which brings me back to you. You, the one who left me this way. I think I hate you. But, I don't want to admit that because I believe to truly hate someone you first have to love them and I don't want to love you. You have proved yourself undeserving yet it remains. Die? Please? Something. I hope your new love crushes your heart and then you realize you're gay. Perfect solution. It'll never happen. That was immature I apologize. But I meant every word. Karma karma karma...
Mania. I might be insane. Distinct possibility.
This is circular. Cyclical. Once you're in a circle, how do you get out? Going round a track you never reach the end. Now what....jump it? How? Or maybe you walk around and around and around until you've worn down the path and reached China? China is far enough away, maybe I'll go there. Scotland would be optimal though.
Maybe I'm just tired. Weary, worn down from constantly thinking about this. I want to leave this town. Skip the next two years, jump forward to the future I already have planned. This is just fluff. Unnecessary fluff.
Digression.
Love is a latent blood virus. First, you feel fine. Better even. But then the virus becomes active. It rips you apart from the inside. It hurts all over and doesn't fade. But what's the cure? Another, more powerful virus? What happens when that one goes active?
On track.
I want to get better. I really do. But I don't know how. I know I need to leave this town. I need to start again. I don't need to endure two more years I don't think I can.
Friday, October 10, 2008
A Theme Deviation
"Near To You" -A Fine Frenzy
He and I had something beautiful
But so dysfunctional, it couldn't last
I loved him so but I let him go
'Cause I knew he'd never love me back
Such pain as this
Shouldn't have to be experienced
I'm still reeling from the loss,
Still a little bit delirious
Near to you, I am healing
But it's taking so long
'Cause though he's gone
And you are wonderful
It's hard to move on
Yet, I'm better near to you.
You and I have something different
And I'm enjoying it cautiously
I'm battle scarred, I am working oh so hard
To get back to who I used to be
He's disappearing
Fading suddelly
I'm so close to being yours
Won't you stay with me
Please
Near to you, I am healing
But it's taking so long
'Cause though he's gone
And you are wonderful
It's hard to move on
Yet, I'm better near to you.
I only know that I am
Better where you are
I only know that I am
Better where you are
I only know that I belong
Where you are
Near to you, I am healing
But it's taking so long
Though he's gone
And you are wonderful
It's hard to move on
Near to you, I am healing
But it's taking so long
'Cause though he's gone
And you are wonderful
It's hard to move on
Yet, I'm better near to you.
Yet, I'm better near to you.
He and I had something beautiful
But so dysfunctional, it couldn't last
I loved him so but I let him go
'Cause I knew he'd never love me back
Such pain as this
Shouldn't have to be experienced
I'm still reeling from the loss,
Still a little bit delirious
Near to you, I am healing
But it's taking so long
'Cause though he's gone
And you are wonderful
It's hard to move on
Yet, I'm better near to you.
You and I have something different
And I'm enjoying it cautiously
I'm battle scarred, I am working oh so hard
To get back to who I used to be
He's disappearing
Fading suddelly
I'm so close to being yours
Won't you stay with me
Please
Near to you, I am healing
But it's taking so long
'Cause though he's gone
And you are wonderful
It's hard to move on
Yet, I'm better near to you.
I only know that I am
Better where you are
I only know that I am
Better where you are
I only know that I belong
Where you are
Near to you, I am healing
But it's taking so long
Though he's gone
And you are wonderful
It's hard to move on
Near to you, I am healing
But it's taking so long
'Cause though he's gone
And you are wonderful
It's hard to move on
Yet, I'm better near to you.
Yet, I'm better near to you.
Tuesday, September 30, 2008
Dear Swingset,
One day, your rusty chains will break and I will soar into the sky. Never to return, never to touch solid ground again. Until that day, I'll be a human pendulum beneath you, straining to reach the sky, praying to be swept up in a storm.
My Dearest Lost,
You now truly embody your name. You are lost to me, possibly forever. No hope of redemption. I'll let this raging infection of love for you within me sleep. All I ever wanted from you was love. That's all I ever took. I gave you the love I had at the time, but you'll have to forgive my preoccupation. Maybe you ought to have taken that into account before diving off the cliff with me. I can provide what you wanted then, now. I merely need a chance.
You took my heart, my love, my sanity for a while. I would appreciate the first two back. The remaining wound cannot heal until those are back in my possession. I implore you to acquiesce to my simple request.
Tell me, where is the flaw? What severed you so completely from me? What sent you careening from me into her arms? You flipped my world upside down and left. Abandonment is your greatest sin. No...not the abandonment, your repeated resurgence and abandonment is worse. Never, never mistake yourself for a good person. Good people do not do things such as this. You're not a horrible person, but you are a far cry from being a good one.
For now, the virus you injected into me rests. I will wait, as I have always done. I wait while you chase after hopeless and not so hopeless crushes. I wait as you enjoy the flight you've embarked upon. I'll sit on the runway until you're ready to take me away. Please, don't be long. I may be swept up before you land. Whether it be another plane or a dreadful storm, I'll do my best to stand here for you.
You took my heart, my love, my sanity for a while. I would appreciate the first two back. The remaining wound cannot heal until those are back in my possession. I implore you to acquiesce to my simple request.
Tell me, where is the flaw? What severed you so completely from me? What sent you careening from me into her arms? You flipped my world upside down and left. Abandonment is your greatest sin. No...not the abandonment, your repeated resurgence and abandonment is worse. Never, never mistake yourself for a good person. Good people do not do things such as this. You're not a horrible person, but you are a far cry from being a good one.
For now, the virus you injected into me rests. I will wait, as I have always done. I wait while you chase after hopeless and not so hopeless crushes. I wait as you enjoy the flight you've embarked upon. I'll sit on the runway until you're ready to take me away. Please, don't be long. I may be swept up before you land. Whether it be another plane or a dreadful storm, I'll do my best to stand here for you.
Sunday, September 28, 2008
A Fall
She took his hand in hers and jumped. The view was stunning. Colors swirled past in a roaring rush, mixed sensations tumbling through the air between them, forming thoughts shapes and figures neither had seen nor imagined before. They soared away from the cliff, the lightly marbled rock fading into the past. The joy the two shared was paramount.The glory they beheld in one another as they fell ever further and faster was unprecedented. The love...indescribable.
She took his hand and jumped. No second thoughts, no backward glances. Tightly, she held that hand, the hand that would become her protector, her lover, her hope and her reason. Grasping that hand she felt invincible and knew the ground would never reach her, and knew the flight would never stop.
She took his hand and jumped into the chasm, naivete leading the way. The beauty of raw feeling overcame logic and reason. A charming smile, and a gentle hold brought her to the cliff and the hands led her over.
She took his hand. She gazed into his eyes. Yet a shadow remained. A spectre of the past remained to taint the beauty, the spectre engraved into her skin. The hand she followed promised the spectre would never cause him to let go, only hold on tighter. He would never let go.
The hand lied. The hand released hers and grasped onto the cliff. It began to climb.
She hit the ground. The cold unyielding ground upon which lay thousands of bones, the remains of others who had fallen from the sky. She hit the ground and shattered.
Time inched by. And unbelievably, she began to heal and to climb. She climb up the sheer rock face with all the determination of a brigade of soldiers fighting for a true and just cause. The rock tore her hands and fingers rendering them bloody and worthless at times. Sometimes she would arrive at a ledge and sit to rest and think. Soon, she gained on him. The hands she sought with her mind body and soul were near once more. They sat upon a ledge halfway up. She reached for them, muscles straining with all of their might. Their fingertips touched and the girl fell. She squeezed shut her eyes and reached for the hand she knew would be there, she hoped and prayed would be there. And yet...there was nothing. She seized only air and fell to the bottom once more.
Climbing became more and more of a tribulation. Many times she came close, but the hands served only to tease her now. They came close and then jumped out of the way leaving her to fall once more. Her body was broken. A new spectre infested itself in her skin, making its mark. Her mind fared worse.
Many months passed and she was near the top of the cliff. Faces crowded 'round, encouraging her, giving her strength. She was weary and afraid. Afraid that should she reach the top, she might never see the hands again. She sat upon a ledge and pondered for a long while. She heard gasps from the crowd and looked up to see those lovely hateful hands holding a new set. The new set was damaged, she could see it. She saw him and knew he would let go of that one too. She fell again, still.
Tired of this cycle, she lashed out, giving herself over to rage that could not be contained. She latched onto the cliff face and ascended up with renewed fervor. At long last, gasping for air and longing for healing, she collapsed onto the soft grass at the apex of the precipice. Never again, she mumbled, never again.
She took his hand and jumped. No second thoughts, no backward glances. Tightly, she held that hand, the hand that would become her protector, her lover, her hope and her reason. Grasping that hand she felt invincible and knew the ground would never reach her, and knew the flight would never stop.
She took his hand and jumped into the chasm, naivete leading the way. The beauty of raw feeling overcame logic and reason. A charming smile, and a gentle hold brought her to the cliff and the hands led her over.
She took his hand. She gazed into his eyes. Yet a shadow remained. A spectre of the past remained to taint the beauty, the spectre engraved into her skin. The hand she followed promised the spectre would never cause him to let go, only hold on tighter. He would never let go.
The hand lied. The hand released hers and grasped onto the cliff. It began to climb.
She hit the ground. The cold unyielding ground upon which lay thousands of bones, the remains of others who had fallen from the sky. She hit the ground and shattered.
Time inched by. And unbelievably, she began to heal and to climb. She climb up the sheer rock face with all the determination of a brigade of soldiers fighting for a true and just cause. The rock tore her hands and fingers rendering them bloody and worthless at times. Sometimes she would arrive at a ledge and sit to rest and think. Soon, she gained on him. The hands she sought with her mind body and soul were near once more. They sat upon a ledge halfway up. She reached for them, muscles straining with all of their might. Their fingertips touched and the girl fell. She squeezed shut her eyes and reached for the hand she knew would be there, she hoped and prayed would be there. And yet...there was nothing. She seized only air and fell to the bottom once more.
Climbing became more and more of a tribulation. Many times she came close, but the hands served only to tease her now. They came close and then jumped out of the way leaving her to fall once more. Her body was broken. A new spectre infested itself in her skin, making its mark. Her mind fared worse.
Many months passed and she was near the top of the cliff. Faces crowded 'round, encouraging her, giving her strength. She was weary and afraid. Afraid that should she reach the top, she might never see the hands again. She sat upon a ledge and pondered for a long while. She heard gasps from the crowd and looked up to see those lovely hateful hands holding a new set. The new set was damaged, she could see it. She saw him and knew he would let go of that one too. She fell again, still.
Tired of this cycle, she lashed out, giving herself over to rage that could not be contained. She latched onto the cliff face and ascended up with renewed fervor. At long last, gasping for air and longing for healing, she collapsed onto the soft grass at the apex of the precipice. Never again, she mumbled, never again.
Saturday, September 20, 2008
Dear Lost,
do you remember when...
you saw me crying and held me and shooed away the insensitive children
followed me to make certain I was safe
wrapped me up in your arms and we told each other stupid stories no one else would care to hear
rescued me from the edge and told me an important story
you listened
i told you an important story and you held my hand, softly tracing a pattern
you somehow deciphered what i was saying through my chattering teeth
you gave me the strength to do what i needed to
you drove around with me after i was finished working
we played the impossible quiz and almost won
you asked me out and i said yes
you were being clever and i was being stupid, but you got a kiss anyway so it didn't matter
we watched silly horror movies like 1408 and Dead Silence
we cuddled
we wrestled
you spent the night and we slept very little ;)
we said i love you and meant it
i kept you out late. a lot
i snuck out to be with you one last time before i had to leave for Washington
i worked so hard to be with you again
remember when...i wrote an important message that could change your mind, but unfortunately, i am a coward. and no one reads this because i don't let them.
Because...because I don't think you do...
Thursday, September 18, 2008
Dear Boy,
I am sorry. I am sorry you want to date me. Believe me, you really don't want to. No one's perfect, but I've got baggage. Too much for your innocent mind to handle. Your life has been easy. So....I don't want to say perfect but yours is close. I won't ruin that.
At the forefront of my refusal, however, is that I simply lack feelings of that sort for you. You're a fun guy, I enjoy being your friend, but I cannot imagine our friendship progressing beyond where it is right now. I've thought many times about dating you, it's been suggested often. I remember Stanton walking up to me in 7th grade and asking me out for you. Of course, I thought he was just being typical asshole Stanton and instigating an awkward situation. But, I remember seeing you bend your head down over your desk when I said no.
Four years is long time to have a crush on someone. I get the feeling that I'm your first crush. Please understand, first crushes generally amount to nothing. Mine did. From the time I noticed boys until the summer after 8th grade I had a crush on the same boy. Now, two relationships later and even before then, I no longer have any romantic feelings towards him. Things like that fade. If I just leave it be, let it be a crush, you'll recover from it with no lasting damage. If I start a relationship with you I will break your heart. I will be the worst thing to ever infringe upon your life.
Lastly, I'm simply not over someone else. It would not be fair to you in the slightest for me to attempt to date you whilst I'm still in love with someone else. You're a nice guy and there are plenty of nice girls out there who would date you and give you the love and affection that I simply cannot.
I apologize for any pain I'll cause you when I tell you this face to face.
Forgive me.
At the forefront of my refusal, however, is that I simply lack feelings of that sort for you. You're a fun guy, I enjoy being your friend, but I cannot imagine our friendship progressing beyond where it is right now. I've thought many times about dating you, it's been suggested often. I remember Stanton walking up to me in 7th grade and asking me out for you. Of course, I thought he was just being typical asshole Stanton and instigating an awkward situation. But, I remember seeing you bend your head down over your desk when I said no.
Four years is long time to have a crush on someone. I get the feeling that I'm your first crush. Please understand, first crushes generally amount to nothing. Mine did. From the time I noticed boys until the summer after 8th grade I had a crush on the same boy. Now, two relationships later and even before then, I no longer have any romantic feelings towards him. Things like that fade. If I just leave it be, let it be a crush, you'll recover from it with no lasting damage. If I start a relationship with you I will break your heart. I will be the worst thing to ever infringe upon your life.
Lastly, I'm simply not over someone else. It would not be fair to you in the slightest for me to attempt to date you whilst I'm still in love with someone else. You're a nice guy and there are plenty of nice girls out there who would date you and give you the love and affection that I simply cannot.
I apologize for any pain I'll cause you when I tell you this face to face.
Forgive me.
Tuesday, September 16, 2008
Dear Morris,
Why am I still here? I don't understand why I am still confined by you. I would give anything for a one way ticket out of this town. I feel...trapped. Everywhere, painful memories lurk in the alleys, parks, and corners. I want to escape them. Even among friends, where one would expect there to be naught but great memories full of fun times. They're there, but they don't show up. The best times were with those people in different places.
Two years ago I lost a piece of my heart to the Colorado Rockies. A month ago I lost yet another to Chicago. It wasn't just the location, it was the people there and everything we accomplished.
A couple of months ago and on numerous occasions since then I've had my heart torn asunder, snatched from my chest, tossed onto the frozen concrete where it lay there sobbing while an indifferent creature stood bye and gazed upon me with loathing. Undeserved loathing. Little did he know, most of it followed when he left.
So now I'm here. Gathering the few remaining pieces and locking them away, trying to start anew. Were it not for the persistent reminders of what we once had, I think I might have healed. The separation has been longer than the encounter.
Dear Morris. Let me go.
Two years ago I lost a piece of my heart to the Colorado Rockies. A month ago I lost yet another to Chicago. It wasn't just the location, it was the people there and everything we accomplished.
A couple of months ago and on numerous occasions since then I've had my heart torn asunder, snatched from my chest, tossed onto the frozen concrete where it lay there sobbing while an indifferent creature stood bye and gazed upon me with loathing. Undeserved loathing. Little did he know, most of it followed when he left.
So now I'm here. Gathering the few remaining pieces and locking them away, trying to start anew. Were it not for the persistent reminders of what we once had, I think I might have healed. The separation has been longer than the encounter.
Dear Morris. Let me go.
Sunday, September 14, 2008
Dear Comfy Little Corner I Found,
Thank you for existing. Thank you for rescuing me from the hell that has become my home.
Why are things so difficult right now? I ask for simple, easy things, but they turn into huge overblown arguments where logic gets thrown to the dogs in favor of some meatier selfishness. I understand that everyone in my home is over worked, stressed, and ready to burst....but if we're all that way, why don't we just work on it?
Yes mother, you work 10 hour days. Believe me I do my best to stay out of your way.
Yes father, you don't have patience. Yes father you have a temper. Unfortunately father, I have that same temper. I've told you time and again, the angrier you get at me, the more sarcastic I become because I refuse to break down sobbing every time you raise your voice to unhealthy decibel levels. And I know, the more sarcastic I get the angrier you get. Vicious cycle, let's break it shall we? Just don't yell.
Yes Brenna, I don't like you. I never have. As to why I don't show you respect, you haven't earned it. Quit being difficult. I do more for you than you have ever done for me. I watch out for you, I spoke with your teachers to undermine your bully, and I don't complain about it. I simply do it due to my sense of duty. You are a blood relation to me. I don't like you, but I watch out for you, just like I would for anyone who asks.
I think you and I have a good relationship little corner. You isolate me. The silence is wonderful. In your silence, I find my peace.
Why are things so difficult right now? I ask for simple, easy things, but they turn into huge overblown arguments where logic gets thrown to the dogs in favor of some meatier selfishness. I understand that everyone in my home is over worked, stressed, and ready to burst....but if we're all that way, why don't we just work on it?
Yes mother, you work 10 hour days. Believe me I do my best to stay out of your way.
Yes father, you don't have patience. Yes father you have a temper. Unfortunately father, I have that same temper. I've told you time and again, the angrier you get at me, the more sarcastic I become because I refuse to break down sobbing every time you raise your voice to unhealthy decibel levels. And I know, the more sarcastic I get the angrier you get. Vicious cycle, let's break it shall we? Just don't yell.
Yes Brenna, I don't like you. I never have. As to why I don't show you respect, you haven't earned it. Quit being difficult. I do more for you than you have ever done for me. I watch out for you, I spoke with your teachers to undermine your bully, and I don't complain about it. I simply do it due to my sense of duty. You are a blood relation to me. I don't like you, but I watch out for you, just like I would for anyone who asks.
I think you and I have a good relationship little corner. You isolate me. The silence is wonderful. In your silence, I find my peace.
Friday, September 12, 2008
Dear Precalculus,
You make me cry and I really don't appreciate it.
This is my thought process in math class:
x=2 ok, that's not so bad
2x+1=3 still easy
y=mx+b not horrible...
y=(32x+5)/8 thank god for calculators
f(x)=g(x) WTF?
f(x)=x+1 and g(x)=2-x, so what is f(g(x)) :'(
x^5+34x^3-4x^7=? Make it stop please I beg you!!!!
x^2+6x+1>x^4-8 :'O what does this mean???
234x+654y^987+z^e= my head exploding.
Words>Numbers
PWN3D
This is my thought process in math class:
x=2 ok, that's not so bad
2x+1=3 still easy
y=mx+b not horrible...
y=(32x+5)/8 thank god for calculators
f(x)=g(x) WTF?
f(x)=x+1 and g(x)=2-x, so what is f(g(x)) :'(
x^5+34x^3-4x^7=? Make it stop please I beg you!!!!
x^2+6x+1>x^4-8 :'O what does this mean???
234x+654y^987+z^e= my head exploding.
Words>Numbers
PWN3D
Tuesday, September 9, 2008
Dear Reader,
Welcome to my blog on the vast blagosphere. I can't imagine what you googled to find it, but congratulations. I hope you enjoy reading all of the things I will never tell my friends, accomplices, coworkers, acquaintances, and family.
As to the title, well, I should think it's self explanatory. I write letters and then never send them to whomever they rightfully belong. Why? Well, I learned from experience that it does not help or change things the way I hope. I wrote a very long, heartfelt letter to someone whom I care/d very much about and it made no difference to them. And so, I decided to post the letters I write where anyone can read them if they so choose.
Hopefully, one of these may make a difference to someone, even if it's not in the way I expect or intend
As to the title, well, I should think it's self explanatory. I write letters and then never send them to whomever they rightfully belong. Why? Well, I learned from experience that it does not help or change things the way I hope. I wrote a very long, heartfelt letter to someone whom I care/d very much about and it made no difference to them. And so, I decided to post the letters I write where anyone can read them if they so choose.
Hopefully, one of these may make a difference to someone, even if it's not in the way I expect or intend
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