Isolation-I

He was pleading with her now, the nerve. Her eyes narrowed even as he continued to speak, his own burning brighter with every small step he took in her direction. It was just wrong. It was the last chance either of them had, and she wasn't supposed to be here. She was supposed to tell him what she had come here to say, burn with the fierceness of his cruel, taunting words and then leave when the daggers turned into ice, confident in her ability to walk away. And, he was enraged; she could feel it in the way his presence seemed to fill the room, in the way his jaw clenched, so painfully that, for a second, she had to fight the urge to run to him and apologize, beg forgiveness for whatever had caused him to be so angry with her.. Until she remembered what she had come to say.

Except, something was wrong.

She couldn't move away, couldn't avert her gaze, couldn't leave, and she didn't know what to do with the way he allowed his words to caress her, promise her, reassure her.. just as he had done countless number of times before. Never with words, though. That wasn't allowed for him. Not by either of them. Her throat constricted as she realized what that meant. He already knew..

But, she still couldn't leave. Not when his eyes darkened as he spoke, cajoling her exhausted mind to remember what they had never really acknowledged. He was breaking their rules, and she was watching, mesmerized, even as their binds on him strengthened and loosened, the restraints digging deeper and deeper into his very being. And she watched him, until she was certain that he would not refrain, would not relent. And that is when she knew; They were already caged. Always had been. Except theirs was meant to keep the world out. And she couldn't leave him alone in here, not when his eyes glinted at her, sharp and loud in the moonlight, even though his voice was quiet. Not while she could count exactly how many steps she would have to take to reach him. Not while he said her name, over and over, in a voice, which she realized would never fade, never stop echoing..

There was no escape.

Always Morbid

There's nothing wrong.

It's only wretched-wretched guilt.

And I even made it in time.

Nothing is wrong.

Nothing is wrong.

Bury the doubt deeper.

And dig out the truth.

Except, it hurts.

But nothing is wrong.

And nothing is right.

And stainless tears are no better than blood.

What use is it to the canvas to know the pain, but have nothing to prove that it was real?

Pay it forward

Note: This is just another random forwarded e-mail. But, so sad! :(

Two Choices

What would you do?....you make the choice. Don't look for a punch line, there isn't one. Read it anyway. My question is: Would you have made the same choice?

At a fundraising dinner for a school that serves children with learning disabilities, the father of one of the students delivered a speech that would never be forgotten by all who attended. After extolling the school and its dedicated staff, he offered a question:
'When not interfered with by outside influences, everything nature does, is done with perfection. Yet my son, Shay, cannot learn things as other children do. He cannot understand things as other children do. Where is the natural order of things in my son?'

The audience was stilled by the query.

The father continued. 'I believe that when a child like Shay, who was mentally and physically disabled comes into the world, an opportunity to realize true human nature presents itself, and it comes in the way other people treat that child.'

Then he told the following story:

Shay and I had walked past a park where some boys Shay knew were playing baseball. Shay asked, 'Do you think they'll let me play?' I knew that most of the boys would not want someone like Shay on their team, but as a father I also understood that if my son were allowed to play, it would give him a much-needed sense of belonging and some confidence to be accepted by others in spite of his handicaps.

I approached one of the boys on the field and asked (not expecting much) if Shay could play. The boy looked around for guidance and said, 'We're losing by six runs and the game is in the eighth inning. I guess he can be on our team and we'll try to put him in to bat in the ninth inning.'

Shay struggled over to the team's bench and, with a broad smile, put on a team shirt. I watched with a small tear in my eye and warmth in my heart. The boys saw my joy at my son being accepted.

In the bottom of the eighth inning, Shay's team scored a few runs but was still behind by three. In the top of the ninth inning, Shay put on a glove and played in the right field. Even though no hits came his way, he was obviously ecstatic just to be in the game and on the field, grinning from ear to ear as I waved to him from the stands.

In the bottom of the ninth inning, Shay's team scored again. Now, with two outs and the bases loaded, the potential winning run was on base and Shay was scheduled to be next at bat.

At this juncture, do they let Shay bat and give away their chance to win the game?

Surprisingly, Shay was given the bat. Everyone knew that a hit was all but impossible because Shay didn't even know how to hold the bat properly, much less connect with the ball.

However, as Shay stepped up to the plate, the pitcher, recognizing that the other team was putting winning aside for this moment in Shay's life, moved in a few steps to lob the ball in softly so Shay could at least make contact.

The first pitch came and Shay swung clumsily and missed. The pitcher again took a few steps forward to toss the ball softly towards Shay. As the pitch came in, Shay swung at the ball and hit a slow ground ball right back to the pitcher.

The game would now be over.

The pitcher picked up the soft grounder and could have easily thrown the ball to the first baseman. Shay would have been out and that would have been the end of the game. Instead, the pitcher threw the ball right over the first baseman's head, out of reach of all team mates.

Everyone from the stands and both teams started yelling, 'Shay, run to first! Run to first!' Never in his life had Shay ever run that far, but he made it to first base. He scampered down the baseline, wide-eyed and startled.

Everyone yelled, 'Run to second, run to second!' Catching his breath, Shay awkwardly ran towards second, gleaming and struggling to make it to the base. By the time Shay rounded towards second base, the right fielder had the ball . the smallest guy on their team who now had his first chance to be the hero for his team.

He could have thrown the ball to the second-baseman for the tag, but he understood the pitcher's intentions so he, too, intentionally threw the ball high and far over the third-baseman's head.

Shay ran toward third base deliriously as the runners ahead of him circled the bases toward home.

All were screaming, 'Shay, Shay, Shay, all the Way Shay'

Shay reached third base because the opposing shortstop ran to help him by turning him in the direction of third base, and shouted, 'Run to third! Shay, run to third!' As Shay rounded third, the boys from both teams, and the spectators, were on their feet screaming, 'Shay, run home! Run home!'

Shay ran to home, stepped on the plate, and was cheered as the hero who hit the grand slam and won the game for his team.

'That day', said the father softly with tears now rolling down his face, 'the boys from both teams helped bring a piece of true love and humanity into this world'.

Shay didn't make it to another summer. He died that winter, having never forgotten being the hero and making me so happy, and coming home and seeing his Mother tearfully embrace her little hero of the day!


AND NOW A LITTLE FOOT NOTE TO THIS STORY:
We all send thousands of jokes through the e-mail without a second thought, but when it comes to sending messages about life choices, people hesitate.

The crude, vulgar, and often obscene pass freely through cyberspace, but public discussion about decency is too often suppressed in our schools and workplaces.

If you're thinking about forwarding this message, chances are that you're probably sorting out the people in your address book who aren't the 'appropriate' ones to receive this type of message Well, the person who sent you this believes that we all can make a difference.

We all have thousands of opportunities every single day to help realize the 'natural order of things.'

So many seemingly trivial interactions between two people present us with a choice:
Do we pass along a little spark of love and humanity or do we pass up those opportunities and leave the world a little bit colder in the process?

A wise man once said every society is judged by how it treats it's least fortunate amongst them.

You now have two choices:
1. Delete
2. Forward

May your day, be a Shay Day.

Better days

...
I wish I could do something instead of making these empty promises of better days. You make me want to protect you from all of the ugliness around us. I wish I could put you away in a little box where nothing and no one would ever hurt you again. You deserve so much more than what this horrible cruel world has to offer, but it isn't me who can give you any of those things.

I refuse to believe that this is all that there is for you.

Hold on little ones, dawn shall surely come...

I promise...

...

Opheliac

- Emilie Autumn


I'm your Opheliac
I've been so disillusioned
I know you'd take me back
But still I feign confusion
I couldn't be your friend
My world was too unstable
You might have seen the end
But you were never able
To keep me breathing
As the water rises up again
Before I slip away

You know the games I play
And the words I say
When I want my own way
You know the lies I tell
When you've gone through hell
And I say I can't stay
You know how hard it can be
To keep believing in me
When everything and everyone
Becomes my enemy and when
There's nothing more you can do
I'm gonna blame it on you
It's not the way I want to be
I only hope that in the end you will see
It's the Opheliac in me

I'm your Opheliac
My stockings prove my virtue
I'm open to attack
But I don't want to hurt you
Whether I swim or sink
That's no concern of yours now
How could you possibly think
You had the power to know how
To keep me breathing
As the water rises up again
Before I slip away

You know the games I play
And the words I say
When I want my own way
You know the lies I tell
When you've gone through hell
And I say I can't stay
You know how hard it can be
To keep believing in me
When everything and everyone
Becomes my enemy and when
There's nothing more you can do
I'm gonna blame it on you
It's not the way I want to be
I only hope that in the end you will see
It's the Opheliac in me

Studies show:
Intelligent girls are more depressed
Because they know
What the world is really like
Don't think for a beat it makes it better
When you sit her down and tell her
Everything('s) gonna be all right
She knows in society she either is
A devil or an angel with no in between
She speaks in the third person
So she can forget that she's me

Doubt thou the stars are fire
Doubt thou the sun doth move
Doubt truth to be a liar
But never doubt
Doubt thou the stars are fire
Doubt thou the sun doth move
Doubt truth to be a liar
But never doubt
Doubt thou the stars are fire
Doubt thou the sun doth move
Doubt truth to be a liar
But never doubt I love

You know the games I play
And the words I say
When I want my own way
You know the lies I tell
When you've gone through hell
And I say I can't stay
You know how hard it can be
To keep believing in me
When everything and everyone
Becomes my enemy and when
There's nothing more you can do
I'm gonna blame it on you
It's not the way I want to be
I only hope that in the end you will see
It's the Opheliac in me

Untitled

(Originally typed out on 06th June 2008)

She poured out another shot and downed it. After an entire week of agonizing, she had made up her mind. She was going to go talk to him tonight, no matter what. And as she slipped out of the dim bar determinedly, she even had the entire conversation planned out in her head. What she would say in response to every thing he could say. She had even decided where they would talk and how she would bring about the topic. She was sick of the thoughts rattling in her head. And tired of trying to guess what he was thinking.

He stood outside on the balcony, a half forgotten cigarette dangling loosely from his lips. It was a nice night. He looked back into the house and saw the file lying on the table. An odd expression flitted across his face, and then he smiled, taking a deep drag and exhaling slowly into the cold night air. It was going to be a long night.

So, after a few more shots of vodka - for the warmth - she made her way across the busy streets towards his house. It was a pretty night. The city lights drowned out most of the stars, but the ones that she could still see were beautiful enough. She was wearing her black dress. The one she was wearing the first time they had met. She wondered if he would notice, or remember... She didn't think so... She didn't know if she wanted him to... It would be less painful if he had forgotten. She didn't know why but she wanted to see him while she was in it, considering it was the last time she was going to see him, at least for a while.

He made his way into the house and sat down in the dimly lit room. He glanced up at the file and muttered to himself. A short laugh followed by a frown. He looked away from the table and his gaze fell upon the small box lying under a chair. Standing up, he made his way towards it, a strange look upon his face. Kneeling by the chair, he pulled out the box with slightly trembling hands. It fit in his palm, and he stared at it for a long while.

It wasn't like she wanted him back, she reminded herself. It was just that this needed to be over, and the only way she could do that was talk to him, get it out of her system. She wasn't going to cry. No matter what, she was not going to cry. A wave of dizziness washed over her and she made her way to the sidewalk where she sat down at the edge of the road, resting her head against a cool metal pole. She knew she shouldn't be drinking. Not tonight. She pulled out a cigarette and a matchbox. Unable to light it because of the way her hands were shaking, she rummaged around in her bag until she found the lighter. Click. Light. Drag. Something fluttered to the ground, and as she picked up the faded photograph, a tear finally found its way down her pale face.

It seemed like he hadn't moved for hours. He knew he shouldn't open the box. God knows he wanted to, but he couldn't. Not now. It would surely destroy him. Turning it around he traced the crack along the side of it with his thumb. He closed his eyes as if something had just stabbed him in the heart. Why tonight? Why did he have to find it tonight?? Pictures ran through his mind and his eyes shot open. No. He couldn't close his eyes right now. It made him remember. He didn't want to. Not now.

She looked up at the house. The address seemed right, though it looked as if no one was home. She walked up to the door... and suddenly, it all seemed too pointless. What was the use? She was kidding herself if she thought one conversation would actually help her. But this wasn't about her. She owed him an apology... No... She owed him an explanation. She stared at the door bell for a while, and shook her head. A rain drop fell from the skies and she turned to leave...

He stared at the box for what seemed like eternity. The cool wind told him it was about to rain. Rain. He hated the rain. He hated it because it reminded him of strawberries and long sad conversations... and because it reminded him of the last time he had seen her. Had she been crying? It was impossible to tell because of that rain... Standing up suddenly, he made his way unsteadily to the phone. Holding the receiver up to his ear, he dialed the all-to-familiar number. It had been so long, yet every digit was engraved in his memory.

She walked away quickly from the house, suddenly afraid of running into him. Her flight out of the country was in a few hours. A few more hours and she would never see him again.
No. That moment passed by the last time it rained. As the water started falling faster from the skies, she looked up and smiled, glad it was raining. But, it didn't really matter anymore... This time there was no one around to hide the tears from. And there were no tears to hide. Making her way onto the porch of an empty house, she leaned against the pillar and slid to the ground. There was no point. None.

An image of her in her long black dress made its way into his mind and he hung up before it connected. What could he say? There was nothing he could offer as way of explanation. The truth would only hurt more than the silence did. She couldn't know. He couldn't let her find out. The file on the table seemed to mock him. Leaning against the wall, he raised his eyes to the ceiling. There was no point. It was over.

And so the door was never opened, and the phone never answered. Simply because she never knocked... and he never called. And the faded photograph continued to fade away in a corner of the bag while the broken box stayed broken. The rain continued to fall on two people halfway across the world from one another... and even though it shouldn't have mattered because there was no point... it continued to matter.

Confession

The cold steel rail was just another addiction
Another substitute for an incurable affliction
Multi-colored spirals let me know
It isn't up to me to decide when we go

Ages of absence and consequence
make carefully cultivated indifference
your one and only defense
And even if you forget your way back down
There's always another way to the ground

Keep only so much that it isn't worth stealing
The sky is all that you need to be feeling
Let all of the rest just burn and fall away
And don't ever let them make you stay
Standing proud, uncaring and tall,
Kicking and cursing at the cold wall
Don't ever bring back yesterday
And today stays a dreary shade of gray

The flickers of worry
Pasts that you just can't bury
Tell you in whispers so low
One more time might be the end
but there is a lot that time doesn't mend
and it's really not like I don't know

It was easy to learn
and it's easy to burn
Now that I know how to fly
I understand why, you stay in the sky
I'm still waiting for the call
and they're all waiting for us to fall
I forget the way down
or maybe I never really learned at all


They talk so proudly of love
A memory is a dear dead dove
All I can see are cold chains
And forgetting is all that remains
It's always been so much easier to lie
when you're high up in that blue sky
and they never taught you the way down anyway

Confessions and surprises, Search the premises
Truth is easy if you know what the price is
And I know I only lie to save your skin
But my confessions are over, you're my only sin

Though anxious eyes are what you left behind
You know they'll always be there
I don't know what's on my own mind
And sometimes, I forget to care

The wings are just a mere substitute
Are we replacing more of the clever lies?
or is it only their over rated truth?
I can't come down from these bright blue skies
And I don't think I want to

So do me a favor and ask them not to call
Because they'd be right and I'd only fall
Though that's just another way to the ground
I'm not lost, I don't need to be found
Don't make me go, just let me stay
...I never learned the way down anyway.

A Million Different Thoughts

There were a million different thoughts in my head today. Things I was supposed to come back and think about. Instead I chose to indulge in conversation that's been put off too long. And not just once, but twice! Anyway, advice doesn't help when it contradicts itself. And now I've forgotten what it was that I wanted to talk about.

It must have had something to do with the perfect place that was in my head all day, and which I finally found. (Thank you Agent Zero!!!) It could have something to do with the mid-night jam session that I was surrounded by for a few precious minutes... but I don't really remember what it was anymore... and it's so perfectly and unfairly fine.

I give it one more day. I always give it one more day. That might be part of the problem. I shouldn't sleep. It's already past four. And if I try and sleep now, there is no way I shall get to class tomorrow. Which I have to get to. I must.

But if I stay up all night, I'll just fall asleep in class and be thrown out. Ah, the logic the mind uses when it's been deprived of sleep for long enough! The only alternative is missing class. Again. Which I can not do. Not again.

I guess we're not the only ones who the universe plays with. I guess. I would say "I hope", but that would make me sound crueler than I really feel at the moment, which is never fun. Well, almost never.

And I know, that a year from now, none of this will matter. None of it. And that should be the worst part, but it's always the best. The unavoidable sense of the transient nature of it all. Nothing else matters, nothing but now, because now is greater than the past, and I know that. Damn it. There were too many commas in the previous sentence, but I really don't care anymore, so if this post annoys you, deal with it.

I shouldn't have. I should have. Only delaying the inevitable. You're always delaying the inevitable, but if you're really trying to stop that, you may as well try to fly. But you don't. Perhaps because sometimes, delaying the inevitable is only human? Perhaps. I wouldn't know. And I don't care.

I would lie. I do. But I would do it so much more often if you promised me I would get away with it. But then again, I would probably not believe you. So why try? "Lie or be lied to". "Deceive or be deceived". And it doesn't make you noble if you go ahead and try to prove the whole world wrong. It makes you stupid. Are you listening Mave dear? Never noble. Only stupid. We were so young. Everyone was, but does that mean it's not an excuse anymore?

I know I'm rambling. I may also be ranting. But it's past four in the morning. And I'm tired. And most importantly, typing has become so much easier than writing. I think that's fucked up. I really do. But, whatever works. And whatever works worked so long that I don't want to mess with it.

Even though that implies that I shouldn't have meddled with a lot of things that were moving along just fine. I guess that means we were right. We would mess up everything we had. Which is cool, because it was all about delaying the inevitable. There was a point made about this, wasn't there?

I could go on forever. I probably would, if it wasn't for the decision that has to be made now. Get a couple of hours of sleep or stay awake till it's time to leave. And that is so silly-ly profound, it's not even funny.

It's not fair that words and songs and quotes and memories get associated with people who you once knew. And it's pretty retarded to say that memories shouldn't do that, but it still isn't fair, because it makes you feel guilty about forgetting. Like getting flowers. Unless they're dead, but that's pretty retarded too.

I should sleep. I think I shall go now.

The Identification (by Roger McGough)

So you think it’s Stephen?

Then I’d best make sure

Be on the safe side as it were.

Ah, there’s been a mistake. The hair

you see, it’s black, now Stephen’s fair…

What’s that? The explosion?

Of course, burnt black. Silly of me.

I should have known. Then let’s get on.

The face, is that a face I ask?

that mask of charred wood

blistered, scarred could

that have been a child’s face?

The sweater, where intact, looks

in fact all too familiar.

But one must be sure.

The scoutbelt. Yes that’s his.

I recognise the studs he hammered in

not a week ago. At the age

when boys get clothes-conscious

now you know. It’s almost

certainly Stephen. But one must

be sure. Remove all trace of doubt.

Pull out every splinter of hope.

Pockets. Empty the pockets.

Handkerchief? Could be any schoolboy’s.

Dirty enough. Cigarettes?

Oh this can’t be Stephen.

I don’t allow him to smoke you see.

He wouldn’t disobey me. Not his father.

But that’s his penknife. That’s his alright.

And that’s his key on the keyring

Gran gave him just the other night.

Then this must be him.

I think I know what happened

… about the cigarettes

No doubt he was minding them

for one of the older boys.

Yes that’s it.

That’s him.

That’s our Stephen.

Lies

Don't ask me questions
when you don't want to know the truth
Because I'll lie as long as I can
but I'm doing it just for you
And I know you think you're helping
but I don't really understand
and the only reason I say the things I do
is because they're all that you can stand

I can't always tell what you're thinking
And I can't always read your mind
You say what you must, and then forget
While I can't leave any of it behind
So I stand back and watch it all go by
While you don't even see the rain
And yet when you ask me if the sun is out
I know that I can only lie again...

Untitled

You talk of numbing the pain
that I don't think I even feel
Keep your remedy with you
I'm well aware of what is real.
And even if it isn't to you
It's become just that to me
I know it seems impossible
But well, maybe Life is just a dream.

God and children

"In the name of God, Ma'am. He'll keep you happy. Whatever you give me, he'll make sure you get ten times more. In the name of the great God, please give me something. Anything."

"God doesn't exist."

She almost felt bad about the shock that flitted across the face of the little girl with the bedraggled hair. Hair that would have loved to be a beautiful brown if it only had a shot. The child couldn't have been more than 8. Or twelve. She could never tell.

"But God is watching out for you. He'll make sure you go far in life. You'll be very wealthy ma'am. Just give us a little money."

"I already told you", said the older girl through gritted teeth, "God. Does. Not. Exist."

The car pulled up and suddenly she felt old. Too old for the day. And too old for the night that was to follow. What right did she have to take away one little girl's belief in an all-powerful-god who was watching over her and would make sure that one day everything would turn out okay?

"Before going, do give us some money sister. Please? Anything."

The door was open and the girl paused. She couldn't really tell why. Perhaps it was the fact that the child had called her sister. Maybe it was because she said please. Or perhaps the girl just wanted to prove a point.

"Fine.", she said shortly, turning around to face the child. She rummaged around in her bag and saw that she had no change, just two coins of five rupees. Holding the coins up between them, she bent down till she was face to face with the girl and stared into her eyes.
"But not in the name of God."

The little girl looked up at her puzzled and she sighed, "There is no such thing as God, kid." And if he did exist, your hair would be pretty, and your eyes bright. You'd be in school and I wouldn't be standing here. And if he does exist, he's no God you should be praying to. And he's definitely not a God in whose name I would EVER do anything. "Go eat something." She hoped God was watching. What would it be? Lightning? A car accident? An aneurysm?

And as she got into the car feeling miserable about what she had just said to someone who probably needed to believe in God much more than she ever did, she looked out the window to see the girl staring at her, a hauntingly beautiful look in her shy eyes. The girl in the car blinked, and the child outside smiled at her shyly. And it was the most beautiful smile the girl had ever seen. All the stoic-ness, all the cold blankness faded away and she grinned it return. The child smiled back wider now.

And as the car pulled away, she rolled down the window and waved. The child waved back shyly... The girl watched her till she was out of sight and then bowed her head. She may not get her soul a place in heaven, but it was at peace for now.

Rambling

I got lost today. And not just this-way-or-that-way kinda lost. I'm talking lost as in across two sectors and a couple of main roads lost. Sigh. I really need to work on my sense of direction. Ended up asking this random fruit seller where my sector was. He looked at me like I was crazy and told me I was walking in the wrong direction and had to go all the way back. It was pretty annoying. Especially because I could have comfortably smoked all my cigarettes. Instead, I ended up breaking another self-made rule. And an important one. Never bring a cigarette home. I'm just asking for trouble...

Other then the adventure of the day, life's been pretty tame for the last few days. I can't believe I'll be back in college in a week. Darn repeats. It would have been so sweet otherwise. And I haven't read a word. Stupid consti. grrr. However, considering the fact that I'll have enough time to bitch and moan about this when I get back, I think I shall just stop thinking about it for now. ^_^

There's this new comic I'm reading. It's called "Nothing Better". It's about a couple of dysfunctional room-mates at college. It's a nice read, but the problem is that at most points our lives seem more interesting. Haha. College spoils me. ;)

Also, I've been doing a lot of thinking. (AND a lot of facebooking, but well, that aside for now.) I just need to get the repeats out of the way this trimester. I'm bored. I need to do something, or I shall wither up and die... And I need a distraction... Oh well, thankfully, that's jus not ever a problem when you're in college.

Hmmm, Maybe it's time I made a few new playlists too. I mean seriously, what kind of black cloud was my brain wallowing in when I made this one??? They're all nice songs, but all I seem to do now is go into a blue funk whenever I start iTunes. I mean, Air Supply are great and everything, but still... I think I'll become a Third Eye Blind person for good. I like them. They talk about the saddest things really chirpily. It makes you laugh. If there's anything I like better than cold-sadness, it's comic tragedy!

Wow, this post has turned out to be just me rambling. Oh! We gave the dog a bath today. I should write a complete post on that sometime. It's an entire event by itself! We even have different people in charge of different parts of the ritual. *laughs*

Hmmm. I'm going to go see a movie tomorrow. With Flighty. Will also update him on my latest sins I suppose. I mean, that is all we seem to do. Discuss the recent messes we have gotten ourselves into and then point at each other, laugh and do the "Haha! Your's is worse!" routine. It makes for good confession times.

I saw Sweet November today. And I finally managed to see the end. I see what Miss Sunshine means. You know... when you understand why the character is doing whatever he/she is doing, but you still want to hit him/her on the head with the biggest rock you can find. And I figured out a new angle to my already-too-many-angles-to-be-anything-but-a-fucking-circle story. Does it help? I don't know anymore. And honestly, I'm almost beyond caring. Fuck it dude. I tried. That's all. I may not have tried hard enough or whatever, but I just don't give a rat's ass anymore. (Yes, okay, maybe I'm just mad right now. or maybe I'm not. Whatever.)

That's all for now I guess. I leave in 6 days. That's not all that much longer. And once I'm back... well, let's just say I have all the aspirin I need. ;)

Later!

Untitled

Listless
She leans forward
And looks up at them
Black hole eyes that almost stop the noise
Almost
She leans back
and I flinch as she yawns
Sure enough,
the hand shoots out
and I close my eyes
She rubs the side of her face
almost puzzled
And then looks up at them again
as they wait with bated breath

Blinks
Stands
and turns to go
Mother begins to cry
and he commands she stop
She turns around again
And waits
Lifelessly bored
Calmly still
Insolently unashamed
And I think I begin to cry

Black eyes meet brown
and I pause
A command, an order
and a smothered plea
I bow my head
and dry my eyes
And stand as straight as her
Another blow
and the world begins to spin
Mother cries again
and father looks on in pain
But she sees no one but me
and I stand straight, like a reflection
Except I can't find the pride
of one that has stolen the crown
from under the king's nose
and laughs all the way down...

Mad Girl's Love Song

- Sylvia Plath

"I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead;
I lift my lids and all is born again.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)

The stars go waltzing out in blue and red,
And arbitrary blackness gallops in:
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.

I dreamed that you bewitched me into bed
And sung me moon-struck, kissed me quite insane.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)

God topples from the sky, hell's fires fade:
Exit seraphim and Satan's men:
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.

I fancied you'd return the way you said,
But I grow old and I forget your name.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)

I should have loved a thunderbird instead;
At least when spring comes they roar back again.
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)"

Goodbye

Like the sun
a little too close
I turn and run
Trying to escape the light
but I'm never fast enough
and I always stay
Stuck
An endless wait
is only endless
because what you are waiting for
slowly disappears
without a goodbye
But, what do you do
when it quietly walks up to you
kisses you
and smiles straight through you
Do you smile back?
or do you run?
Or do you start to walk?
One step at a time
...No matter what direction you walk in
No matter what you get closer to
You're only getting further away
As I stand here to wave goodbye

I know my dear

"The moon"
she whispers
half a choking cry
"I know my dear"
he begins to say
but instead stops to watch her die
"I don't want to be saved"
she breathes
watching the wind in the leaves
"I know my dear"
he begins to say
but instead prepares to grieve

Growing up

What can I say?

When you asked, all I wanted to say was "Yes. I think so. Lets"

Instead, all I said was "I know. No. What's the point?"

And that's why I hate growing up...

Don't you Cry, It's Only a Dream

I've heard this song somewhere...

I mean, I know I've heard it lots of times... but I've heard it somewhere recently... and it was a sad time. But I can't remember...

Can't remember...

I seem to be unable to remember a lot of things these days. Sometimes I know it's positively, terribly important that I remember and I think for hours and hours. Once in a while, I remember, and the feeling is amazing... but more often than not, I have no idea what memory it is that I'm trying so hard to recall.

So, tonight I'm going to wonder where I've last heard this song. Maybe a pub? A car? Someone's house? Maybe it will come to me in a dream. Though I honestly don't know how that is any better.

It's funny. When you wake up, you remember everything from your dream for a few moments... and then it's only traces of the feeling that remain with you while your entire dream fades away. Well, Life is only a dream, right?

Yeah...
Only a dream...



----------------
Now playing: Guns N' Roses - Don't Cry (Original)
via FoxyTunes

Even if...

It's all hooded eyes and taunting laughs
Subtract the cruelty, but keep the cold rain
And we shiver in the darkness
oh, looks like we forgot the lights again
and the sun's long gone

Half forgotten promises
and letters that will remain unsent
Scattered around the past
Living a life that seems to be on rent
and we laugh

Say my name again
and lets close our first two eyes
Blind ourselves to the dark
and all the silly pointless lies
that keep us safe

Like the cold
because it remembers to preserve
Remembers, unlike us, who live to forget
And so, each other we deserve
Hold my hand

It isn't love
And it isn't saying I'll always care
It's just all I can do
You know I'll always be there
Even if...

Even if it is just because there is nowhere else to go...