There definitely was a time where I thought I had a destination, but after a while, it didn't even seem to matter anymore. I just kept driving on the same highway that I've grown so accustomed to.
I've always wanted to travel, and this is what I'm doing.
There are definitely days where I wish I had a destination of so I wouldn't have to rely on this single highway. After awhile, you just get tired of it.
It's definitely taken me places that I should be, but never to places I want to be.
I think this is it.
No matter how long I drive, I can't seem to find the proper exit.
Maybe I should put the top back up...it's getting dark.
I should pull over someday.
Saturday, May 23, 2009
Saturday, May 16, 2009
Ha.
Ha.
For a while now...haha
Just because of all the stress, haha, and the over abundance...
hahah...
The over abundance of work that never seems to end...hahahah
and the work the can be seen on the horizon...
hahah
Not to mention the depression that seems to be seeping in for reasons
hahaha
haha, reasons I can't even disclose because, ahaha, I'm so fuckign secretive about every, hahah
hahah, every fucking thing, I don't even know certain things abotu mmyself.
hahaha
hahah
haha
ha
I, hahaha, I can't catch a break no matter what I do, hahaha
I'm perpetually in this shithole of...hahah, a shithole of an existence called li, haha, life, hahahah
I want to, hahah, I wa, hahah, I want to, hahah
I want to shoot myself, hahah
In the fucking face. hahahaha
It just doesn't end, hahaha, no matter how hard I try, hahah, no matter what I do or what direction I turn, ahhaha, it just keeps coming, hahaha, and I'm not just talking about work, hahah, as a matter of fact, hahah, I don't even know what I'm talking about anymore, hahaha, that's the problem, hahaha
I...hahah....I...just want it to end.
Black circles under my eyes are so passé.
Ha.
For a while now...haha
Just because of all the stress, haha, and the over abundance...
hahah...
The over abundance of work that never seems to end...hahahah
and the work the can be seen on the horizon...
hahah
Not to mention the depression that seems to be seeping in for reasons
hahaha
haha, reasons I can't even disclose because, ahaha, I'm so fuckign secretive about every, hahah
hahah, every fucking thing, I don't even know certain things abotu mmyself.
hahaha
hahah
haha
ha
I, hahaha, I can't catch a break no matter what I do, hahaha
I'm perpetually in this shithole of...hahah, a shithole of an existence called li, haha, life, hahahah
I want to, hahah, I wa, hahah, I want to, hahah
I want to shoot myself, hahah
In the fucking face. hahahaha
It just doesn't end, hahaha, no matter how hard I try, hahah, no matter what I do or what direction I turn, ahhaha, it just keeps coming, hahaha, and I'm not just talking about work, hahah, as a matter of fact, hahah, I don't even know what I'm talking about anymore, hahaha, that's the problem, hahaha
I...hahah....I...just want it to end.
Black circles under my eyes are so passé.
Ha.
Saturday, May 2, 2009
Do You Gotta Light? (Rant #7)
I’ve quit smoking, but not because it was bad for me. I just didn’t feel the need to do it anymore. At first, it was the recreational puff of smoke that kept me drawn to the cancer stick for as long as it did. I thought I finally figured it out. People smoke because it’s relaxing. Then, whenever I found someone to smoke with, they didn’t find it relaxing as I did. They were “social smokers”.
Social smoker: they prefer to smoke in public in order to stand out as “cool” and accepted by other smokers. They think they’re better than smokers because they only smoke when others are around. They only smoke when others are around in order to “impress” them and show them an “edgy” side that most wouldn’t expect of them.
It’s stupid. Smoking isn’t cool. It’s extremely hazardous to anyone’s health and is normally universally frowned upon by many. And you’re doing this to be cool?
I don’t smoke to be cool. I smoke because I have a hard time finding time to be stable minded and smoking seemed to be one placebo I was willing to try. It worked for a bit, but after awhile I found it more stressful to deal with having to purchase them, purchase a lighter, finding time to myself, and smoking somewhere I'll not be bothered. Then I constantly came across all of these phonies--mostly at school and people I barely know--who smoke or drink in order to be cool. It’s sickening knowing people would so deep in order to be seen in a light brighter than the one they’ve already developed just being themselves.
And it’s not just smoking: This whole ordeal has opened my eyes to just how fake people can act in order to get attention, false acclamations, or to be considered “one of us”.
You are not one of us. I don’t even know what “one of us” is.
You can only be cool if you act like yourself without any worries as to how you are perceived.
I hated myself every time I lit up, so why would you praise it? I can’t stop the epidemic of the “social smoker”, but in the meantime, I can say one thing:
To all “social smokers”: Fuck you.
Social smoker: they prefer to smoke in public in order to stand out as “cool” and accepted by other smokers. They think they’re better than smokers because they only smoke when others are around. They only smoke when others are around in order to “impress” them and show them an “edgy” side that most wouldn’t expect of them.
It’s stupid. Smoking isn’t cool. It’s extremely hazardous to anyone’s health and is normally universally frowned upon by many. And you’re doing this to be cool?
I don’t smoke to be cool. I smoke because I have a hard time finding time to be stable minded and smoking seemed to be one placebo I was willing to try. It worked for a bit, but after awhile I found it more stressful to deal with having to purchase them, purchase a lighter, finding time to myself, and smoking somewhere I'll not be bothered. Then I constantly came across all of these phonies--mostly at school and people I barely know--who smoke or drink in order to be cool. It’s sickening knowing people would so deep in order to be seen in a light brighter than the one they’ve already developed just being themselves.
And it’s not just smoking: This whole ordeal has opened my eyes to just how fake people can act in order to get attention, false acclamations, or to be considered “one of us”.
You are not one of us. I don’t even know what “one of us” is.
You can only be cool if you act like yourself without any worries as to how you are perceived.
I hated myself every time I lit up, so why would you praise it? I can’t stop the epidemic of the “social smoker”, but in the meantime, I can say one thing:
To all “social smokers”: Fuck you.
Friday, May 1, 2009
The Door
I think the door is open again.
Do I go in?
It closed on me so fast the first time, I just feel the same thing is going to happen as soon as I set one foot beyond the threshold.
I feel I've been working so hard to open this door, yet I could never find the right keys.
I remember when I first came to the door and tried to just waltz right in.
It was embarrassing seeing everyone I know simply walk through, as they all possessed the keys that unlocked the door.
I had refused anyone's offer to simply walk in with them, because I felt it was my own fault to not have the key. So I just waited for my own opportunity to walk in.
Since then, I've found so many keys, yet I don't know which one is the right one.
I've spent so long waiting for the door to open I feel almost passive about this particular opportunity. I've spent most of my times with the "left behinds" that I'm just nit willing to leave at the moment. But I know that door won't open again for a while. I can't stay.
I know I won't see my friends again--whether on the outside or inside of this door.
The best thing I can do at this point is welcome the new with open arms. It'll be like opening my eyes in the sun all over again. I haven't done that in a while.
I remember it though...it felt so nice. Everything was fine.
I just need to turn this knob and everything will be fine...right?
Do I go in?
It closed on me so fast the first time, I just feel the same thing is going to happen as soon as I set one foot beyond the threshold.
I feel I've been working so hard to open this door, yet I could never find the right keys.
I remember when I first came to the door and tried to just waltz right in.
It was embarrassing seeing everyone I know simply walk through, as they all possessed the keys that unlocked the door.
I had refused anyone's offer to simply walk in with them, because I felt it was my own fault to not have the key. So I just waited for my own opportunity to walk in.
Since then, I've found so many keys, yet I don't know which one is the right one.
I've spent so long waiting for the door to open I feel almost passive about this particular opportunity. I've spent most of my times with the "left behinds" that I'm just nit willing to leave at the moment. But I know that door won't open again for a while. I can't stay.
I know I won't see my friends again--whether on the outside or inside of this door.
The best thing I can do at this point is welcome the new with open arms. It'll be like opening my eyes in the sun all over again. I haven't done that in a while.
I remember it though...it felt so nice. Everything was fine.
I just need to turn this knob and everything will be fine...right?
Somewhere Out There
Yeah.
Yeah, I remember that place. I used to go there all of the time.
I've always considered moving there. It just always seemed to welcoming and warm. Compared to where I live now, it's not too shabby, ya know? I could definitely imagine myself living there for a the remainder of my days.
That is, I did.
Then, I don't know. After awhile you find yourself too caught up at your own home, you just don't have time to travel anymore.
Eventually, I DID try to find an escape, but in doing so I eventually found so many different places I had never even known existed. Some not as glamorous, but some even more entrancing.
There's plenty of time for me to find a place to live out my days, man.
I do remember that place. It was good to me. But I don't think I'll be returning for a while.
I know I will someday, but for now, I just need to see what else the world has out there.
I've never even seen France.
Yeah, I remember that place. I used to go there all of the time.
I've always considered moving there. It just always seemed to welcoming and warm. Compared to where I live now, it's not too shabby, ya know? I could definitely imagine myself living there for a the remainder of my days.
That is, I did.
Then, I don't know. After awhile you find yourself too caught up at your own home, you just don't have time to travel anymore.
Eventually, I DID try to find an escape, but in doing so I eventually found so many different places I had never even known existed. Some not as glamorous, but some even more entrancing.
There's plenty of time for me to find a place to live out my days, man.
I do remember that place. It was good to me. But I don't think I'll be returning for a while.
I know I will someday, but for now, I just need to see what else the world has out there.
I've never even seen France.
Thursday, April 9, 2009
Relax
Do you remember the commercial--I don't remember whether or not it was an insurance commercial or a security system commercial, though I'm pretty sure it was the latter--where everyone is saying they can finally do this or can finally do that? And then they show this one black dude that looks like he works in an office or something screaming at the top of his lungs, "I can finally BE ABLE TO RELAX (AX...Ax...ax...)" while in a boat in the middle of nowhere--just fishing.
Remember how happy he looked? How jubilant he was because he was away and without worry?
I get him now...if only for ten days...I get him.
Remember how happy he looked? How jubilant he was because he was away and without worry?
I get him now...if only for ten days...I get him.
Thursday, April 2, 2009
Stray Dog
I took in a stray dog when my life wasn't up to par with the average, "happy" person's life. What exactly defines happy is beyond me, but I could tell this dog came no where near to learning any version of the definition.
I have no idea what this dog has been through.
Its ear seemed torn, it smelled of decrepit garbage, and it crawled with a limp of a broken down war vet. It came to me, so I felt I had to help.
I had an unholy amount of office work to do and my wife had left me just the other month, but this dog needed a home: something I at least still had.
I hadn't kept in contact with any of my old friends becuase of my job distracting me so much and, even when I do put all my efforts into my job, I've been constantly standing on thin ice with my boss as I continually garner warnings for not working to his liking. But I had a warm bed, unlike this poor dog.
I wondered if the dog had an owner before this. I mean, did it ever know what a good home felt like?
I like to imagine it did. I imagine that, once before, the dog had a comfortable bed to lie in a one time. I can see a young boy of maybe six years constantly fitting in time to play with this lovable dog. His memories are filled with nothing but good times and splendor. I know that family treated him right. They loved that dog.
That's what i'd like to believe though. But then again, here it is.
Maybe they just didn't have the funds to support an extra mouth. Maybe it ran away after chasing a car, or just to explore the world. Too much of a good thing can be harmful, right? Even when perfect?
All I know now is that i'm taking care of this god until it gets back to normal...or as normal as a stray dog can be.
In ways I'm envious of this poor thing.
It at least got the chance to experience happiness.
I've never had a chance to find that myself: even with my friends, or my paychecks, or even the "love" between my ex-wife and I. But this dog has experienced happiness. At last, that's what I'd like to believe.
I have to help this dog find happiness one more time. For his sake and my own.
I can never find it on my own, but maybe following this dog's footsteps back to euphoria will help me find a little bit of my own.
But for now, this dog is priority.
I can handle a bit more sorrow for the sake of this dog...at least, that's what I'd like to believe.
I have no idea what this dog has been through.
Its ear seemed torn, it smelled of decrepit garbage, and it crawled with a limp of a broken down war vet. It came to me, so I felt I had to help.
I had an unholy amount of office work to do and my wife had left me just the other month, but this dog needed a home: something I at least still had.
I hadn't kept in contact with any of my old friends becuase of my job distracting me so much and, even when I do put all my efforts into my job, I've been constantly standing on thin ice with my boss as I continually garner warnings for not working to his liking. But I had a warm bed, unlike this poor dog.
I wondered if the dog had an owner before this. I mean, did it ever know what a good home felt like?
I like to imagine it did. I imagine that, once before, the dog had a comfortable bed to lie in a one time. I can see a young boy of maybe six years constantly fitting in time to play with this lovable dog. His memories are filled with nothing but good times and splendor. I know that family treated him right. They loved that dog.
That's what i'd like to believe though. But then again, here it is.
Maybe they just didn't have the funds to support an extra mouth. Maybe it ran away after chasing a car, or just to explore the world. Too much of a good thing can be harmful, right? Even when perfect?
All I know now is that i'm taking care of this god until it gets back to normal...or as normal as a stray dog can be.
In ways I'm envious of this poor thing.
It at least got the chance to experience happiness.
I've never had a chance to find that myself: even with my friends, or my paychecks, or even the "love" between my ex-wife and I. But this dog has experienced happiness. At last, that's what I'd like to believe.
I have to help this dog find happiness one more time. For his sake and my own.
I can never find it on my own, but maybe following this dog's footsteps back to euphoria will help me find a little bit of my own.
But for now, this dog is priority.
I can handle a bit more sorrow for the sake of this dog...at least, that's what I'd like to believe.
Friday, March 27, 2009
Thumbing Through Ink
For no reason whatsoever, I picked up an old comp book from two or three years ago. The very first page was a transcript I wrote down from the opening of a Tool song that sampled a Timothy Leary speech. I spoke about falling away from the crowd and becoming your own. Throughout the pages were Lyrics to the Mars Volta songs (I wrote down the entire Frances the Mute album for some reason) and some failed music and story ideas. I say failed only because I never fully perused them. It was interesting knowing that my ideas for what was good and what wasn’t has drastically changed, though has simultaneously shown little change.
I read page after page of my own words and I would remember the exact place and time I had written them. I was in my art class for this page and in my service class for that page. I switched out names for pseudonyms in order to avoid any “controversies” in the event that my book had been compromised. I remember reading events and picturing them in my head. Frame for frame, every event I wrote down came rushing back to me as if it were a memory from mere moments prior.
I read about moments during my senior year that warned me of floods to come. I read about moments that foreshadowed a promising future as well as making splits a bit more painful. It reminded me that I was going for treasure that, in my old words, had been nothing but fools gold.
But, at the time, I wanted it so bad.
I was reminded of animosities I no longer hold and things I no longer place on pedestals.
As for creations, there were some ideas I feel must stay in the past, but others that must be full filled in order to properly move on.
I read the passages, although knowing it was me and owning the memories to this very day, feeling as though I was reading the biography of an entirely different person.
There were definitely some memories that still remain precious to me despite a rift being developed.
That’s where they need to stay. In memories.
There’s no way I can enjoy life trying to recreate each and every pleasant moment in my life. Some things are better left in the past.
I closed the book and put it back where I found it. When I’ll read it again? I don’t know.
Maybe, when the road ahead gets a little less bumpy, I’ll make a pit stop once more.
I read page after page of my own words and I would remember the exact place and time I had written them. I was in my art class for this page and in my service class for that page. I switched out names for pseudonyms in order to avoid any “controversies” in the event that my book had been compromised. I remember reading events and picturing them in my head. Frame for frame, every event I wrote down came rushing back to me as if it were a memory from mere moments prior.
I read about moments during my senior year that warned me of floods to come. I read about moments that foreshadowed a promising future as well as making splits a bit more painful. It reminded me that I was going for treasure that, in my old words, had been nothing but fools gold.
But, at the time, I wanted it so bad.
I was reminded of animosities I no longer hold and things I no longer place on pedestals.
As for creations, there were some ideas I feel must stay in the past, but others that must be full filled in order to properly move on.
I read the passages, although knowing it was me and owning the memories to this very day, feeling as though I was reading the biography of an entirely different person.
There were definitely some memories that still remain precious to me despite a rift being developed.
That’s where they need to stay. In memories.
There’s no way I can enjoy life trying to recreate each and every pleasant moment in my life. Some things are better left in the past.
I closed the book and put it back where I found it. When I’ll read it again? I don’t know.
Maybe, when the road ahead gets a little less bumpy, I’ll make a pit stop once more.
Sunday, March 1, 2009
Dear Billy (Rant #6)
You fat, Arizona fuck! How dare you try and call me out on my salesmen skills! Throughout our entire transaction, you've been nothing but an arrogant, nitpicking asshole that's done nothing but berate me and offered nothing but finger pointing and feigning the role of the victim. You bought a $140 amplifier with a shipping cost of $30, which is approximately $40 less than how much it was shipped for. My own mother had to dip into her own funds to help me ship the amplifier to you and all you can say is "I'm not a happy camper". And who the fuck says "I'm not a happy camper" anymore. I get it: you don't like the item. Then stop acting like I sold you a lemon, because before I sent it, it worked perfectly. It was fine when I was using, so I don't know what kind of fucked up shit you did to it to make it not work. Not to mention, you have three fucking amps dude, not including the one you just bought from me. What the fuck are you doing getting another one. Don't you have bills to pay? You have 30 grand worth of gear, what the hell do you need a shitty little solid state fender amp for? Not to mention it was sold to you for $170 (after you bargained me down from $180) when they normally go for $250 USED on eBay. Did you expect a brand new fucking Mesa Boogie with your purchase? Because if you have 30 grand worth of equipment and have YET to brighten up and get a tube amplifier by now then, my friend, you must have down syndrome. I've been trying, and trying, and trying, and mother FUCKING trying to please you DESPITE the fact that I have no refund policy nor do I really care about the items once they're sold. It's YOUR fucking problem. Why are you dumping all of this on me? It's eBay. This shit happens and you can never expect a USED item to work perfectly. I've tried to be nice for the longest time. If you knew me, you'd know that I NEVER get angry at anything. The only times I've ever been upset to the point of shaking was 1) when I was 10 and got into a fight with my dad, 2) When I found out my grandma got run over by a car, 3) When I found out I was rejected from several Universities despite my best efforts as a student throughout my high school career. But you know what, I'm adding this whole nightmare to the list, because I'm so PISSED off at your treatment of the situation and your reactions and supposed "solutions" to the thing you call a "problem". How do you not get that I'm trying to be the best salesman I can be? Everything I've said I'd do to help, you've either rejected or took complete advantage of (I'm not going to pay you $200 worth of repair for a fucking $170 amplifier). Why can you never trust me when I say "Let em help you so we both win"? Quit crying about nothing you old, past your prime fuck! I tried to help, but you refused. You're not getting a single penny from me. I have college debt to take care of as well as a credit card I need to pay off among family related funds I need to take care of. Unlike you, I manage to keep in mind that I have a life that I need to take care of rather than some rock star fantasy that I'll never be able to accomplish because I'm over 50 and live in Nowhere, Arizona. I have shit to take care of. I wish I had kept that amp, but you know what, I have things I need to pay for and the amp was expendible. I know when to grow up which is something that your ancient fucking ass never learned how to do. And I read that someone you purchased something from wanted to "drive down to Arizona and drink lemonade with you, you're so sweet" Well I hope you two enjoy two great big pints of piss, because that's all you deserve, fucker!
Sincerely yours,
Marcus (that name you love to use so often as a catalyst for your problems)
Sincerely yours,
Marcus (that name you love to use so often as a catalyst for your problems)
Saturday, February 21, 2009
How To Take The Needle Out
First, you have to know how much is TOO much. What was pleasurable back in the days when you first ran across your dealer and injected you with your first fix may now seem like decade long pilgrimage for peace as the pain increasingly takes over the pleasure.
You loved that needle. For a long time it was your only friend.
But now it's time to let it go. I mean, it's not fun anymore is it? The withdrawals are coming at you ten fold. You've lost all of your friends. Your family hates you, and not just the "get your life together and maybe we'll love you again" hate. They don't want anything to do with you any longer. Your time to make amends is over.
So why keep going? I don't know.
Do you even remember how good it felt to get a fix?
I didn't think so.
I know it's hard to quit. I know you'll use that as an excuse not to. But you have to think about all of the benefits. A better, healthier existence. A chance to start over and become somebody rather than waste away in a basement attached to the house you were evicted form last week because you blew all of your cash on smack.
A second chance is what you'll get. Don't you want that? Even a little bit?
No?
Fine.
Then go ahead and take one more plunge and hope that you put just a little too much in there...lord knows you'll be doing everyone a good service.
You loved that needle. For a long time it was your only friend.
But now it's time to let it go. I mean, it's not fun anymore is it? The withdrawals are coming at you ten fold. You've lost all of your friends. Your family hates you, and not just the "get your life together and maybe we'll love you again" hate. They don't want anything to do with you any longer. Your time to make amends is over.
So why keep going? I don't know.
Do you even remember how good it felt to get a fix?
I didn't think so.
I know it's hard to quit. I know you'll use that as an excuse not to. But you have to think about all of the benefits. A better, healthier existence. A chance to start over and become somebody rather than waste away in a basement attached to the house you were evicted form last week because you blew all of your cash on smack.
A second chance is what you'll get. Don't you want that? Even a little bit?
No?
Fine.
Then go ahead and take one more plunge and hope that you put just a little too much in there...lord knows you'll be doing everyone a good service.
Wednesday, January 28, 2009
Moment of Clarity
If for a single moment every now and again we are able to see life for the light it brings rather than the light that is taken, everything would be that much easier. It's not asking too much for just that second where everything makes sense. It's not asking too much to wonder if there IS a way up. It's definitely not asking too much to, once in a while, say "Yes I can!"
It's nice to have your eyes opened for once...even if only for a second.
It's nice to have your eyes opened for once...even if only for a second.
Monday, January 26, 2009
Smile
I don't know why, but I read my daily writing assignment out loud in my creative writing class. The particular prompt I read was particularly laced with my normal amount of sardonic commentating on life--or in this case, cafeteria food--and I figured it would have been met with a certain amount of criticism for being too "mean". (Being a creative writing class, you would expect a better synonym. Oh well...).
But no, it was met with acceptance and a great deal of laughter--that's exactly what I wanted. Even the teacher had tears rolling from her eyes and the T.A. smiling for my words. One of the comments I received was a simple "I thought it was funny" by one of my classmates.
Rarely do I ever give in to the idea that I'm in any sense "funny", but today was a pretty good feeling.
I'm not proud very often, let alone smiling at my own work. It was a nice change.
But no, it was met with acceptance and a great deal of laughter--that's exactly what I wanted. Even the teacher had tears rolling from her eyes and the T.A. smiling for my words. One of the comments I received was a simple "I thought it was funny" by one of my classmates.
Rarely do I ever give in to the idea that I'm in any sense "funny", but today was a pretty good feeling.
I'm not proud very often, let alone smiling at my own work. It was a nice change.
Wednesday, January 14, 2009
Try
Take a breather.
Once you start crying about the small stuff, the bigger things will take you down in no time, man. Imagine a giant boulder rolling at you at top speed and you've yet to fix the shingles in fear of falling.
Go outside and look around.
Count ten people. Count ten more people. I can bet any amount of money that 21 out of those 20 people have bigger problems then you'll probably ever face. If every little thing confuses the fuck out of you, then what hope do you really have at taking any risks or taking any blows?
None.
So just take it in. Learn to just go with the flow. Learn to understand problems come and go, and more often than not, someone else in the world has been in your shoes before. Stop living with "should haves" and try out "will do's". Just try it.
They really go a long way.
Once you start crying about the small stuff, the bigger things will take you down in no time, man. Imagine a giant boulder rolling at you at top speed and you've yet to fix the shingles in fear of falling.
Go outside and look around.
Count ten people. Count ten more people. I can bet any amount of money that 21 out of those 20 people have bigger problems then you'll probably ever face. If every little thing confuses the fuck out of you, then what hope do you really have at taking any risks or taking any blows?
None.
So just take it in. Learn to just go with the flow. Learn to understand problems come and go, and more often than not, someone else in the world has been in your shoes before. Stop living with "should haves" and try out "will do's". Just try it.
They really go a long way.
Monday, January 12, 2009
Gemini en Deliria
Part I: Phantasma
Together, we had four legs to trudge against this unknown surface. We’ve never felt the stars to close to our being before. We had always known it was there, but we never felt its presence like the days of now. Nobody knows of our existence on Mercury, for we are the ghosts of whom no one believes, and so are the others.
For hours upon hours, we walked. With no starting point or finish line, our destination was blurred. For all we know, we had gone around one thousand times. We always wished we knew where we were going, but neither of us bothered to ask. For us, a destination was superfluous as ghosts. We do not float, so we bury our legs deep into the liquid surface like any human would, should he (or she) partake in a journey across this planet’s face. I can imagine that journey for a normal human:
What would seem to be a simple drift across the cosmos would be the most violent of turbulence or most. Survival unknown as the most advanced technologies cannot protect, as they should. Being an apparition has it’s perks: to wear nothing but a soul as clothing for the shamed, to not worry about faces for we’ve done away with them, to be powered only by the heart that we chose to keep intact within our hollow being. It is our hearts that will help us escape this planet. It is our hearts that will save us, should we keep them. It is all that keeps us visible.
We take only one form, for we need not confuse the other. For whatever reason, it follows me wherever. Some call it flattery. Some days, I wish I could simply trudge on by myself, for my other half is mute and the silence is deafening. I ask God to send me into space so I can breathe again. SO I can breathe like the days before we were joined at the hip. Was it some sin that forced us to be connected? Was it meant to be a reward? As we try to find the bridge off this planet, I find the one that connects us to be far too dilapidated to carry us any further as one entity. I wanted out, and it was when I fell that I had finally found my escape.
Part II: Deliria
I tripped on the only piece of matter hardened enough to cause any harm to anyone. As I fell on my hands and knees, the link was broken. The tie that bounded us snapped off like a stressed out strand of string. It was the most severe pain I had ever felt in either of my lifetimes. I don’t know how my twin took the dismembering fall, but I saw a wince of pain in its eyes as my limbs hit the molten floor. It was a pain I had never fathomed would occur in my being again. You would figure that, once I took this form, al pain would end. Not true. It simply magnifies in the fact that there is no escape from pain through death. When a phantom is lost on an unknown planet, he could die one thousand times and never lose a single life.
Through all the pain, I had failed to realize that I had received my wish. I was my own. I got up and looked at my counterpart, who was holding its sides as if ii had taken a very violent blow to the ribs. We locked eyes for several moments in confusion. We were staring into a mirror that wasn’t supposed to come undone. For several seconds we considered joining once again, but we came to a consensus that the separation was a sign of a new start. We were free to roam the planet and double our efforts to find an escape.
Though it wept, I finally convinced the Gemini that we should part ways to find our much-deserved exit. I was on my way out, and so was it. As I wandered around, I came to the realization that the plan was failing me. I kept thinking about the well-being of my other half as well as my own mortality without it. I kept thinking about how we only had our own minds to keep us company. I thought about how we didn’t have each other to stand up or share thoughts. We were alone…after so long, we were both truly alone.
I don’t know how long I was walking or even where I was. I usually don’t know anyway, but landmarks usually turn up by now. All I saw was the muddy gravel forged form heat fixed in front of the sun, which appeared to be coming ever closer to this wretched planet. I didn’t care though. I just wanted out. I wanted to be free of this damned planet, even if it meant jumping planets and walking once around the sun. I didn’t care about the dangers anymore: I just wanted to escape.
My feet became the ground, as it was harder to walk. Time melted into itself and every second that passed felt as identical as the last. I collapsed.
Part III: Hyena
I don’t know how long I was knocked out. Did it matter? Whether it was seconds, weeks, or even years, I would always wake up exactly where I started and continue on where I was. When I woke up this time, I noticed three shadows without torsos. They floated in my presence, with only a grin on what was left of their facial features and eyes that bore no lids or pupils. The one directly in front of me offered me his hand attached to no arm. When I took it, I stood my ground. They laughed to themselves before ever saying a word. I couldn’t understand it, but I felt I would soon figure it out.
The leader asked me for my name, a question I had absolutely no answer for. I had no identity, especially not after relinquishing my second half. Without my twin, I wasn’t myself. I felt my equilibrium thrown into mush, trampled by searing gravel. The leader felt very aware of my situation.
The ghost that stood before me warned that I wasn’t in any condition to continue the way I have been traveling. It warned that I was a twin in atrophy, a Gemini in delirium, that without my other half I would fall to pieces over and over again. They only wanted to help.
The leader spoke with a hyenas bark with every breath it spilt into my ears. It said that, although I rejected my shadow from my past, the entrails within held me back. “In order to ascend into true nirvana,” it started “You must discard the body”. So I did.
The one to the left of me spoke only in tongues; A sort of Spanish with an indecipherable hum. The one to the right of me didn’t speak any language but laughter. Any other attempts to speak to it were futile. It bled air and silence was its name. Within minutes my torso was like theirs; barren and free of innards. The leader himself helped tear out my eyelids so I could see like them. They dilated my pupils to the point of evaporation. Within one hour, I was one of them.
Part IV: Chimera
We stalked the planet with reckless abandon. We cared not for the other beings that may have inhabited the planet sharing our oxygen. All these ghosts know were laughter and bloodshed. Every being we came across was met with a grizzly hello at the end of their armless claws. They stole the hearts of many and left the bodies to suffer. The very last luxury in any ghosts’ being is raped by these floating spirits. They were the ghost killers, and they chose me to become one of them. Why? I never asked. They found corpses of other worlds and devoured them for their own amusement. The jackals never went hungry.
We came across a wounded phantom sunken inside the lava of the surface of the planet. My new friends pulled it out of its liquid hell and presented it to me. I didn’t know what they wanted me to do, but I knew I would have blood on my hands by the end of this. The leader told me that, to understand what it is to be free of my ghostly restraints, I must feast on the wounded ghost’ heart. “Those who can’t withstand death without a pulse did not deserve the afterlife.” He cried. When he punctuated a period in his breath, everything made sense.
When they found me, my pulse was in the twilight of its existence. It was fading and that’s what attracted them to my being. They found me with no pulse, with lungs stitched shut, and eyes closed with cement. I was like them even before my amputation. That thought marinated in my mind.
I ate the ghost’ heart.
Part V: Navajas
I felt we were invincible. Time no longer mattered as we controlled its very essence with our movement. We continued to feast on ghosts that fell into purgatory and the smiles stayed chiseled on our mouths. In the distance, we saw a figure without a heartbeat trudging slowly across. We deciphered it’s fate. I withdrew my vote so as to see the master at work. The quiet one blinked in approval. The leader nodded its head. The one in tongues screamed “Su latido del corazón manchará nuestros navajas!” and charged the shadow. The others followed, but I stayed behind. There was something about this spirit I refused to harm. I saw them thrash the body with zero empathy. Time hadn’t bothered us for a while, but in this moment, every second slowed down to the pace of the ghost’ diminished heartbeat. I saw every scar open on it’s body. I saw every drop of blood pour out of an orifice. I prayed the spirit be like us and not suffer the consequences of having a heart to feel pain: to die forever without release.
I heard every scream.
Part VI: Stigmata
The bloodletting didn’t stop. It felt like days, at points, even years that this thrashing lasted. But why? Why did I feel sympathy for this ghost?
When they finally finished, almost millennia later, they left the body and wandered away without me. I tried to catch up, but the leader insisted that I inspect the beaten spirit. “Should you choose to devour its heart, you can continue on our pilgrimage of feast” exclaimed the leader. They disappeared into the horizon. I wouldn’t see them ever again.
I stared at the decrepit corpse of the beaten phantom. I saw my body and my lifeless heart within the ghost. It was my other half beaten to a bloody pulp. I stared at its stab wounds as the glued themselves to what was left of my skin. Blood poured from my mouth as I tried to speak to it. We were both destroyed. I had no body to lend and it had a heart too shattered to spare. We couldn’t do this any longer. Any safe bridge off the planet has long since been burned. I had no other choice: I I picked up its body and feasted upon its dead heart. It was in no way nourishing, just as I expected. I didn’t put myself down. Instead, I took it from the planet the only way I could.
We floated upward toward the sun. Everything around us grew lighter and everything was visible. Everything was visible.
Its heart was gone and so was mine. We were once one, but now we are in the red. There was no longer any point to living on forever as ghosts. What very few pleasures fate had offered to us in this form has been squandered as my selfish needs destroyed nirvana. We were one so we could have found a way out. Instead, I ruined it. Everything. It didn’t deserve my fate. Which is why I was so happy it disintegrated in my arms before we reached the giant star. It was free, but I was still here; as it should be.
I felt the heat as the sun embraced my being. The closer I got, the more it became obvious that I wouldn’t find solace in evaporation as my twin did. Instead my penance will be strolling once around the sun. Then, and only then, my heart will be welded together once more.
Together, we had four legs to trudge against this unknown surface. We’ve never felt the stars to close to our being before. We had always known it was there, but we never felt its presence like the days of now. Nobody knows of our existence on Mercury, for we are the ghosts of whom no one believes, and so are the others.
For hours upon hours, we walked. With no starting point or finish line, our destination was blurred. For all we know, we had gone around one thousand times. We always wished we knew where we were going, but neither of us bothered to ask. For us, a destination was superfluous as ghosts. We do not float, so we bury our legs deep into the liquid surface like any human would, should he (or she) partake in a journey across this planet’s face. I can imagine that journey for a normal human:
What would seem to be a simple drift across the cosmos would be the most violent of turbulence or most. Survival unknown as the most advanced technologies cannot protect, as they should. Being an apparition has it’s perks: to wear nothing but a soul as clothing for the shamed, to not worry about faces for we’ve done away with them, to be powered only by the heart that we chose to keep intact within our hollow being. It is our hearts that will help us escape this planet. It is our hearts that will save us, should we keep them. It is all that keeps us visible.
We take only one form, for we need not confuse the other. For whatever reason, it follows me wherever. Some call it flattery. Some days, I wish I could simply trudge on by myself, for my other half is mute and the silence is deafening. I ask God to send me into space so I can breathe again. SO I can breathe like the days before we were joined at the hip. Was it some sin that forced us to be connected? Was it meant to be a reward? As we try to find the bridge off this planet, I find the one that connects us to be far too dilapidated to carry us any further as one entity. I wanted out, and it was when I fell that I had finally found my escape.
Part II: Deliria
I tripped on the only piece of matter hardened enough to cause any harm to anyone. As I fell on my hands and knees, the link was broken. The tie that bounded us snapped off like a stressed out strand of string. It was the most severe pain I had ever felt in either of my lifetimes. I don’t know how my twin took the dismembering fall, but I saw a wince of pain in its eyes as my limbs hit the molten floor. It was a pain I had never fathomed would occur in my being again. You would figure that, once I took this form, al pain would end. Not true. It simply magnifies in the fact that there is no escape from pain through death. When a phantom is lost on an unknown planet, he could die one thousand times and never lose a single life.
Through all the pain, I had failed to realize that I had received my wish. I was my own. I got up and looked at my counterpart, who was holding its sides as if ii had taken a very violent blow to the ribs. We locked eyes for several moments in confusion. We were staring into a mirror that wasn’t supposed to come undone. For several seconds we considered joining once again, but we came to a consensus that the separation was a sign of a new start. We were free to roam the planet and double our efforts to find an escape.
Though it wept, I finally convinced the Gemini that we should part ways to find our much-deserved exit. I was on my way out, and so was it. As I wandered around, I came to the realization that the plan was failing me. I kept thinking about the well-being of my other half as well as my own mortality without it. I kept thinking about how we only had our own minds to keep us company. I thought about how we didn’t have each other to stand up or share thoughts. We were alone…after so long, we were both truly alone.
I don’t know how long I was walking or even where I was. I usually don’t know anyway, but landmarks usually turn up by now. All I saw was the muddy gravel forged form heat fixed in front of the sun, which appeared to be coming ever closer to this wretched planet. I didn’t care though. I just wanted out. I wanted to be free of this damned planet, even if it meant jumping planets and walking once around the sun. I didn’t care about the dangers anymore: I just wanted to escape.
My feet became the ground, as it was harder to walk. Time melted into itself and every second that passed felt as identical as the last. I collapsed.
Part III: Hyena
I don’t know how long I was knocked out. Did it matter? Whether it was seconds, weeks, or even years, I would always wake up exactly where I started and continue on where I was. When I woke up this time, I noticed three shadows without torsos. They floated in my presence, with only a grin on what was left of their facial features and eyes that bore no lids or pupils. The one directly in front of me offered me his hand attached to no arm. When I took it, I stood my ground. They laughed to themselves before ever saying a word. I couldn’t understand it, but I felt I would soon figure it out.
The leader asked me for my name, a question I had absolutely no answer for. I had no identity, especially not after relinquishing my second half. Without my twin, I wasn’t myself. I felt my equilibrium thrown into mush, trampled by searing gravel. The leader felt very aware of my situation.
The ghost that stood before me warned that I wasn’t in any condition to continue the way I have been traveling. It warned that I was a twin in atrophy, a Gemini in delirium, that without my other half I would fall to pieces over and over again. They only wanted to help.
The leader spoke with a hyenas bark with every breath it spilt into my ears. It said that, although I rejected my shadow from my past, the entrails within held me back. “In order to ascend into true nirvana,” it started “You must discard the body”. So I did.
The one to the left of me spoke only in tongues; A sort of Spanish with an indecipherable hum. The one to the right of me didn’t speak any language but laughter. Any other attempts to speak to it were futile. It bled air and silence was its name. Within minutes my torso was like theirs; barren and free of innards. The leader himself helped tear out my eyelids so I could see like them. They dilated my pupils to the point of evaporation. Within one hour, I was one of them.
Part IV: Chimera
We stalked the planet with reckless abandon. We cared not for the other beings that may have inhabited the planet sharing our oxygen. All these ghosts know were laughter and bloodshed. Every being we came across was met with a grizzly hello at the end of their armless claws. They stole the hearts of many and left the bodies to suffer. The very last luxury in any ghosts’ being is raped by these floating spirits. They were the ghost killers, and they chose me to become one of them. Why? I never asked. They found corpses of other worlds and devoured them for their own amusement. The jackals never went hungry.
We came across a wounded phantom sunken inside the lava of the surface of the planet. My new friends pulled it out of its liquid hell and presented it to me. I didn’t know what they wanted me to do, but I knew I would have blood on my hands by the end of this. The leader told me that, to understand what it is to be free of my ghostly restraints, I must feast on the wounded ghost’ heart. “Those who can’t withstand death without a pulse did not deserve the afterlife.” He cried. When he punctuated a period in his breath, everything made sense.
When they found me, my pulse was in the twilight of its existence. It was fading and that’s what attracted them to my being. They found me with no pulse, with lungs stitched shut, and eyes closed with cement. I was like them even before my amputation. That thought marinated in my mind.
I ate the ghost’ heart.
Part V: Navajas
I felt we were invincible. Time no longer mattered as we controlled its very essence with our movement. We continued to feast on ghosts that fell into purgatory and the smiles stayed chiseled on our mouths. In the distance, we saw a figure without a heartbeat trudging slowly across. We deciphered it’s fate. I withdrew my vote so as to see the master at work. The quiet one blinked in approval. The leader nodded its head. The one in tongues screamed “Su latido del corazón manchará nuestros navajas!” and charged the shadow. The others followed, but I stayed behind. There was something about this spirit I refused to harm. I saw them thrash the body with zero empathy. Time hadn’t bothered us for a while, but in this moment, every second slowed down to the pace of the ghost’ diminished heartbeat. I saw every scar open on it’s body. I saw every drop of blood pour out of an orifice. I prayed the spirit be like us and not suffer the consequences of having a heart to feel pain: to die forever without release.
I heard every scream.
Part VI: Stigmata
The bloodletting didn’t stop. It felt like days, at points, even years that this thrashing lasted. But why? Why did I feel sympathy for this ghost?
When they finally finished, almost millennia later, they left the body and wandered away without me. I tried to catch up, but the leader insisted that I inspect the beaten spirit. “Should you choose to devour its heart, you can continue on our pilgrimage of feast” exclaimed the leader. They disappeared into the horizon. I wouldn’t see them ever again.
I stared at the decrepit corpse of the beaten phantom. I saw my body and my lifeless heart within the ghost. It was my other half beaten to a bloody pulp. I stared at its stab wounds as the glued themselves to what was left of my skin. Blood poured from my mouth as I tried to speak to it. We were both destroyed. I had no body to lend and it had a heart too shattered to spare. We couldn’t do this any longer. Any safe bridge off the planet has long since been burned. I had no other choice: I I picked up its body and feasted upon its dead heart. It was in no way nourishing, just as I expected. I didn’t put myself down. Instead, I took it from the planet the only way I could.
We floated upward toward the sun. Everything around us grew lighter and everything was visible. Everything was visible.
Its heart was gone and so was mine. We were once one, but now we are in the red. There was no longer any point to living on forever as ghosts. What very few pleasures fate had offered to us in this form has been squandered as my selfish needs destroyed nirvana. We were one so we could have found a way out. Instead, I ruined it. Everything. It didn’t deserve my fate. Which is why I was so happy it disintegrated in my arms before we reached the giant star. It was free, but I was still here; as it should be.
I felt the heat as the sun embraced my being. The closer I got, the more it became obvious that I wouldn’t find solace in evaporation as my twin did. Instead my penance will be strolling once around the sun. Then, and only then, my heart will be welded together once more.
The End.
Sunday, January 11, 2009
Last Letter Lamenting Lost Laughs
Today is the last chance for amends
Others see it as another day, but for me and those around, it's more
Monday calls for change, and we're going to answer it
Opening the doors is the only way out, and we have the keys
Rewriting the past will be easy
Reloading the gun is first on the list
On the last second of the day, the coldest chill will hit my spine
When tomorrow comes, the sun will rise.
When tomorrow comes, I'll open my eyes in paradise if I'm allowed
Others see it as another day, but for me and those around, it's more
Monday calls for change, and we're going to answer it
Opening the doors is the only way out, and we have the keys
Rewriting the past will be easy
Reloading the gun is first on the list
On the last second of the day, the coldest chill will hit my spine
When tomorrow comes, the sun will rise.
When tomorrow comes, I'll open my eyes in paradise if I'm allowed
Someone Carved an Artery In My Brain
She didn't know who I was, but I treated her like a lifelong friend. I picked her up like a baby sister held her hand like a lover.
As the people hovered around us, there was a silence around us.
After a few steps we parted ways without so much as a name being given to either party. She went left and I went right.
I walked further down my path until an old friend surprised me. Before I could remember his name, he pulled a gun and shot me in the face.
I woke up in my bed with no recollection of either parties existence. It wasn't until I met her on the streets did it all come back.
Now I'm just waiting for that last bullet to end my dream.
As the people hovered around us, there was a silence around us.
After a few steps we parted ways without so much as a name being given to either party. She went left and I went right.
I walked further down my path until an old friend surprised me. Before I could remember his name, he pulled a gun and shot me in the face.
I woke up in my bed with no recollection of either parties existence. It wasn't until I met her on the streets did it all come back.
Now I'm just waiting for that last bullet to end my dream.
Flatlined Acupuncture
The needle was dug into the arm a bit too deep. My nostrils flared at an alarming rate as the poison flowed through my blood stream. I don't know why I thought breathing that fast would have saved my life, all it did was bring to light that something wasn't quite right. My mouth was sealed shut, but I felt a liquid seep through my lips. My body shook uncontrollably as I tried to pull the needle out. My arms were numb.
At that moment, all I could think of was wishing for those 2 minutes back. Those two minutes before I pierced my skin. Those two minutes before I decided to burn every bridge to recovery just to satisfy my own desires. I knew of the repercussions.
But I took the plunge.
Now I can't see and there is foam on my chest. My mind has amputated my limbs and there's no way to bandage this scar. My breathes came faster and faster as everything began to darken. With every spark of light that I was actually allowed, I looked around and saw blood. I knew it was mine. If it wasn't blood it was the broken mirrors, courtesy of myself, that were spread across the floor. I destroyed every mirror in the room. In the event I should wake up, I wanted the only shards to be on the floor where they belong. If my eyes should catch any glass, I would be looking in the right direction.
After a while, the shaking stopped and so did my heartbeat. My eyes didn't close, but my sight went completely black. I remember seeing a shadow walking away from me as it happened.
After the shadow closed the door, there was only silence.
The sun came up and my vision came back. I took the needle out and I stumbled toward the window.
Outside there was nothing. There were no breadcrumbs going back to the life before...before all of this. I didn't account for the flying rats that could ruin my path back home.
For now, there is no home for me.
I picked up the needle and put it away. As much as I hate knowing this is fact, I will need it again. Until then, I'm just waiting now.
As I was walking out the door, I saw all the broken pieces of mirror on the floor.
I was disgusted.
At that moment, all I could think of was wishing for those 2 minutes back. Those two minutes before I pierced my skin. Those two minutes before I decided to burn every bridge to recovery just to satisfy my own desires. I knew of the repercussions.
But I took the plunge.
Now I can't see and there is foam on my chest. My mind has amputated my limbs and there's no way to bandage this scar. My breathes came faster and faster as everything began to darken. With every spark of light that I was actually allowed, I looked around and saw blood. I knew it was mine. If it wasn't blood it was the broken mirrors, courtesy of myself, that were spread across the floor. I destroyed every mirror in the room. In the event I should wake up, I wanted the only shards to be on the floor where they belong. If my eyes should catch any glass, I would be looking in the right direction.
After a while, the shaking stopped and so did my heartbeat. My eyes didn't close, but my sight went completely black. I remember seeing a shadow walking away from me as it happened.
After the shadow closed the door, there was only silence.
The sun came up and my vision came back. I took the needle out and I stumbled toward the window.
Outside there was nothing. There were no breadcrumbs going back to the life before...before all of this. I didn't account for the flying rats that could ruin my path back home.
For now, there is no home for me.
I picked up the needle and put it away. As much as I hate knowing this is fact, I will need it again. Until then, I'm just waiting now.
As I was walking out the door, I saw all the broken pieces of mirror on the floor.
I was disgusted.
Thursday, January 8, 2009
Like A Book On Your Shelf
It's amazing how closed I am with everyone. Even my closest friends only know enough about me to fill a brochure sized biography. To say my only problem is that I "miss people" would be a lie. But I feel as though I shouldn't burden others with problems I started and know I can finish. I've tried sharing my personal life with others: not too much, but nothing that wasn't interesting. It just didn't work for me. I could tell someone my darkest secret but refuse to tell that same person what I did that morning. I guess I just grew up thinking my personal affairs aren't for public broadcast.
Ironic.
Here I am writing down every little thought as if any of it it going to be seen. Maybe that's my problem. Then again, maybe I'm just choosy about what I want and don't want people to know about me. Yet people keep asking, and I keep avoiding the questions.
Some would call it unhealthy to keep such information to myself.
It just works for me.
Ironic.
Here I am writing down every little thought as if any of it it going to be seen. Maybe that's my problem. Then again, maybe I'm just choosy about what I want and don't want people to know about me. Yet people keep asking, and I keep avoiding the questions.
Some would call it unhealthy to keep such information to myself.
It just works for me.
These Days, The Sun Slumbers
Do you remember the days when everything was great?
Those days where we had no care in the world and everyone around us didn't exist. We all danced as songs of glee flew in and out of our ears and we sang with every waking moment of the sun. Everyone knew each other and not a single name was unknown.
Some said the days would never end, but we knew they didn't mean their words.
When the sun set, we ran toward it so as to say goodbye. It always disappeared before we reached it, but I know it always saw us waving.
Do you remember how every year, we would lose one kid. They would either move away or somehow find all of our presences tiresome. Maybe they would grow ill and pass, but we would never know. At first, it wasn't bothersome because there were so many of us, so the fun never dissipated. As the years went on, we thinned out. And as the years went on, we all grew apart.
The years went on and the chase for the sun became futile. We got further and further from the sun every evening. Soon enough, there was that day we didn't even run.
Do you remember the days we decided to part way? I must have missed that part. I was too busy noticing the sun never rose back up from behind the mountains. I think, after years of chasing, we finally scared it away. It noticed that everyone is gone. We didn't. Then there was the day you left, leaving me here for my own. I had my eyes closed all day, so I didn't see you walk out of the door. I heard a creak in hinges, but I brushed it off as someone walking in. I finally opened my eyes...and here I am.
Do you remember me?
Those days where we had no care in the world and everyone around us didn't exist. We all danced as songs of glee flew in and out of our ears and we sang with every waking moment of the sun. Everyone knew each other and not a single name was unknown.
Some said the days would never end, but we knew they didn't mean their words.
When the sun set, we ran toward it so as to say goodbye. It always disappeared before we reached it, but I know it always saw us waving.
Do you remember how every year, we would lose one kid. They would either move away or somehow find all of our presences tiresome. Maybe they would grow ill and pass, but we would never know. At first, it wasn't bothersome because there were so many of us, so the fun never dissipated. As the years went on, we thinned out. And as the years went on, we all grew apart.
The years went on and the chase for the sun became futile. We got further and further from the sun every evening. Soon enough, there was that day we didn't even run.
Do you remember the days we decided to part way? I must have missed that part. I was too busy noticing the sun never rose back up from behind the mountains. I think, after years of chasing, we finally scared it away. It noticed that everyone is gone. We didn't. Then there was the day you left, leaving me here for my own. I had my eyes closed all day, so I didn't see you walk out of the door. I heard a creak in hinges, but I brushed it off as someone walking in. I finally opened my eyes...and here I am.
Do you remember me?
Placenta In My Eyes
I've been lazy for awhile. I haven't come to any real conclusions for anything over time. I find writing to be very therapeutic, which is probably why things don't seem right. I haven't payed any attention to anything going wrong around me as of recently to focus on others. I've been trying to fix the problems of those who need it, though I find it more and more frustrating to do. Like talking to a deaf mute, everyone ignores me and refuses to tell me anything useful. I found no point in helping anymore.
After a while, I've lost sight of my own problems. Maybe it's a good thing, then again maybe I should have had some closure with them. But they're the same problems as before. And that's just the thing: Nothing's going on. I've lost touch with all but a handful of friends. Stories go unwritten, movies go unfilmed, and songs go unrecorded. Things I would do with others go undone. I used to have an arsenal of people on hand to help me through any endevor. Now I can count them on one hand. Without anyone around, nothing is exciting anymore. I'm bored and I can't change that.
It's saddening to know that old flames refuse to ignite and new wicks don't burn so easily.
I'm in desperate need for a change. I need it.
Walking up on a down escalator gets tiresome after a while. Things are nice now, but they can get better. It took me awhile to learn this, and I hope to teach this to others.
There can be easier solutions than the ones I've been choosing, but I refuse hand me downs. My pilgrimage is my own. I don't want anyone telling me which direction to go. I want a new path to walk on. By taking in anyone's words, I know I'll walk with feet I've seen too many times before. I feel a strange, simoultaneous sense of vindication and defeat. But I'm willing to start anew without any regrets. I want to paint a painting without numbers and without someone else's work already began. I want a brand new canvas to paint on. I want to create a master piece of my own without anyone telling me what colors to use.
I want it to be perfect.
After a while, I've lost sight of my own problems. Maybe it's a good thing, then again maybe I should have had some closure with them. But they're the same problems as before. And that's just the thing: Nothing's going on. I've lost touch with all but a handful of friends. Stories go unwritten, movies go unfilmed, and songs go unrecorded. Things I would do with others go undone. I used to have an arsenal of people on hand to help me through any endevor. Now I can count them on one hand. Without anyone around, nothing is exciting anymore. I'm bored and I can't change that.
It's saddening to know that old flames refuse to ignite and new wicks don't burn so easily.
I'm in desperate need for a change. I need it.
Walking up on a down escalator gets tiresome after a while. Things are nice now, but they can get better. It took me awhile to learn this, and I hope to teach this to others.
There can be easier solutions than the ones I've been choosing, but I refuse hand me downs. My pilgrimage is my own. I don't want anyone telling me which direction to go. I want a new path to walk on. By taking in anyone's words, I know I'll walk with feet I've seen too many times before. I feel a strange, simoultaneous sense of vindication and defeat. But I'm willing to start anew without any regrets. I want to paint a painting without numbers and without someone else's work already began. I want a brand new canvas to paint on. I want to create a master piece of my own without anyone telling me what colors to use.
I want it to be perfect.
Wednesday, January 7, 2009
And Now...
For a long time now, I haven't written anything. I don't know why. It's not like I haven't had anything to say, I just haven't had it in me to put it on paper. Or in this case, virtual paper. Whether or not everything I missed writing was worth the trouble of putting here is beyond me. It's too subjective of a concept. I just missed it. Having a false sense of worth goes a long way, really.
Since I last wrote something, things have happened. But since when have I ever been straight forward about anything I do, right? Whether or not anyone reads these is beyond my concern. For now, this is for me.
I'm not going to start form the beginning, and I'm not going to start at the end...but here I go again.
Since I last wrote something, things have happened. But since when have I ever been straight forward about anything I do, right? Whether or not anyone reads these is beyond my concern. For now, this is for me.
I'm not going to start form the beginning, and I'm not going to start at the end...but here I go again.
Wednesday, December 31, 2008
Thoughts of A Dying Traveler
I feel like an owl has been chasing me all night as I've locked every footstep in gears set to an egg timer.
I realize now that the nuances of gold don't seem to hold up to the treasures I've lost.
I looked up to notice that all of the ears I've gathered and all of the hearts I once touched have all melted away
and I'm here just taking in oxygen
for there is more than enough for my lungs tonight.
All of the sketches in my plans don't hold a candle to what I once had.
Before I saw gold in the eyes of all that surrounded me,
I could pck and choose which one fit best and always have a back up plan.
Now I look around and I see no crutch
I know now I will fall and the owl will devour me.
I know the path I've wondered onto is ending and there's no way to retrieve yesterday anymore.
I've fallen and my eyes are closed.
My travels have come to an end but I know, the second I open my eyes, a new path will be drawn for my feet.
I can already see the light though my lids as the clouds break and the owl flees.
I can already see the sun point me to a new road.
And it's glorious.
I realize now that the nuances of gold don't seem to hold up to the treasures I've lost.
I looked up to notice that all of the ears I've gathered and all of the hearts I once touched have all melted away
and I'm here just taking in oxygen
for there is more than enough for my lungs tonight.
All of the sketches in my plans don't hold a candle to what I once had.
Before I saw gold in the eyes of all that surrounded me,
I could pck and choose which one fit best and always have a back up plan.
Now I look around and I see no crutch
I know now I will fall and the owl will devour me.
I know the path I've wondered onto is ending and there's no way to retrieve yesterday anymore.
I've fallen and my eyes are closed.
My travels have come to an end but I know, the second I open my eyes, a new path will be drawn for my feet.
I can already see the light though my lids as the clouds break and the owl flees.
I can already see the sun point me to a new road.
And it's glorious.
Sunday, April 6, 2008
Blog Number Seventy
Yet, somehow, I can't give you gold.
I'm being cut off from my medication in a sense.
I've cut my blogs short because I want to get a message across in the small amount of time I am given per interweb session. Until I finally fix my internet, the blogs will be short dialogs of insight rather than my extended grievances session.
I am your Confucius from here until teh time capsule is no more.
I'm being cut off from my medication in a sense.
I've cut my blogs short because I want to get a message across in the small amount of time I am given per interweb session. Until I finally fix my internet, the blogs will be short dialogs of insight rather than my extended grievances session.
I am your Confucius from here until teh time capsule is no more.
Saturday, April 5, 2008
Just a Quick Thought
When you spend your Saturday night simply watching youtube videos...you fucked up somewhere in life.
...
I fucked up somewhere in life.
...
I fucked up somewhere in life.
Friday, April 4, 2008
Unstitch Your Eyes...
...and forget about the past that shows it's reflection that we all try to put up on our mantel.
You know you want to say something and put an end to the suffering you mind has forced you into from past grievances.
Let it go.
Put an end to lies and anxiety.
Get what you know you truly deserve and don't look back.
Don't let the shadows keep you company for too long. Otherwise, your skin will atrophy into night, and your mind will rot away with guilt and unheard feelings.
Just unglue your mouth and unstitch your eyes. A "no" will not kill you and a "Yes" will poison no one.
Let any outcome of the truth lead to a life with no weight hindering your shoulders.
You know you want to say something and put an end to the suffering you mind has forced you into from past grievances.
Let it go.
Put an end to lies and anxiety.
Get what you know you truly deserve and don't look back.
Don't let the shadows keep you company for too long. Otherwise, your skin will atrophy into night, and your mind will rot away with guilt and unheard feelings.
Just unglue your mouth and unstitch your eyes. A "no" will not kill you and a "Yes" will poison no one.
Let any outcome of the truth lead to a life with no weight hindering your shoulders.
Wednesday, April 2, 2008
Patientia
Bliss is a rare treasure
Love begets happiness
Happiness is bliss
To live life without regret
Is truly a life worth living
Bliss is a rare treasure
Love begets happiness
Happiness is bliss
To live life without regret
Is truly a life worth living
Bliss is a rare treasure
Tuesday, April 1, 2008
Ira
Regret is a Wasted emotion
Anger becomes hate
Hate turns into regret
We regret what we cannot change
And we ignore what we can
Regret is a wasted emotion
Anger becomes hate
Hate turns into regret
We regret what we cannot change
And we ignore what we can
Regret is a wasted emotion
Monday, March 31, 2008
Acetaminophen On The Mind
My brain is boiling
My pride is destroyed
My world is distorted.
I can't write a real blog today. My head doesn't seem to be all there today. With a mixture of unwanted thoughts and an unrelenting headache (mostly the headache), I can't very well think let alone write anything prolific. Driving home I almost crashed several times because I couldn't see past the dashboard due to dizziness and spots in front of my eyes. I think I'm just going to lay down for a while...maybe even after the headache leaves.
I feel like staying away from society for awhile.
From everyone even...
...I'm not sure yet.
My pride is destroyed
My world is distorted.
I can't write a real blog today. My head doesn't seem to be all there today. With a mixture of unwanted thoughts and an unrelenting headache (mostly the headache), I can't very well think let alone write anything prolific. Driving home I almost crashed several times because I couldn't see past the dashboard due to dizziness and spots in front of my eyes. I think I'm just going to lay down for a while...maybe even after the headache leaves.
I feel like staying away from society for awhile.
From everyone even...
...I'm not sure yet.
Sunday, March 30, 2008
Mulligans
I'm back. Once again to roam among the living. Once again to eviscerate my grievances upon your unsuspecting minds.
It's saddening really how I only return to this blog to share my troubles. Over the past week I had "Spring Break". Albeit, I didn't go to fucking Cancun and get laid or whatever college kids do on MTV, I did manage to spend time with people I love and admire. I spent time with people I see everyday, people I rarely see but still keep a close bond with, I even managed to see someone I hadn't seen in years. The entire course of the week was amazing really. Then everything seemed to just come crashing down.
Today, Sunday, was a fairly good day spent with my family. We had a Carne Asada. Those are always fun. Though I knew everythign was going too well. With a combination of being lied to, completely ignoring something I needed to tend to, my being ill-prepared for school, being ripped off by AT & T, not being able to say a proper goodbye to a friend, and realizing all of your efforts from a few months ago to fix something may be all for naught...I'd say I'm back to a rocky start.
So I'm Mulligans now...starting over. I'm back to square one with everyone. I'm just hoping that I can do everything again.
Have you ever been writing an essay and not save only to have it all erased when the system crashes? Then you're forced to rewrite everything and in the end, not only have you saved over and over again to make sure it doesn't happen again, you end up liking the results of the new better than the old.
Here's to hoping that's the outcome I end up with. Until then, here I am, having to redo every little repair all over again...hoping that I'll like the new results better.
Right now all I have is hope...and knowing me, I won't be able to hang onto it for long.
It's saddening really how I only return to this blog to share my troubles. Over the past week I had "Spring Break". Albeit, I didn't go to fucking Cancun and get laid or whatever college kids do on MTV, I did manage to spend time with people I love and admire. I spent time with people I see everyday, people I rarely see but still keep a close bond with, I even managed to see someone I hadn't seen in years. The entire course of the week was amazing really. Then everything seemed to just come crashing down.
Today, Sunday, was a fairly good day spent with my family. We had a Carne Asada. Those are always fun. Though I knew everythign was going too well. With a combination of being lied to, completely ignoring something I needed to tend to, my being ill-prepared for school, being ripped off by AT & T, not being able to say a proper goodbye to a friend, and realizing all of your efforts from a few months ago to fix something may be all for naught...I'd say I'm back to a rocky start.
So I'm Mulligans now...starting over. I'm back to square one with everyone. I'm just hoping that I can do everything again.
Have you ever been writing an essay and not save only to have it all erased when the system crashes? Then you're forced to rewrite everything and in the end, not only have you saved over and over again to make sure it doesn't happen again, you end up liking the results of the new better than the old.
Here's to hoping that's the outcome I end up with. Until then, here I am, having to redo every little repair all over again...hoping that I'll like the new results better.
Right now all I have is hope...and knowing me, I won't be able to hang onto it for long.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
