Oedipus Rex and Hauteur

Oedipus Rex.

Oedipus complex.

Electra complex.

Greek mythology.

Tragedy befalls.

Romeo and Juliet.

Mercutio, Mercutio...

The world is funny.

Here are some of its jokes:

It's funny how damn interesting the world is, and how much you really are missing out on when you don't search.

It's funny how many words there are in the English language and then translated to be said in 300 different ways by people of different tongues, yet you only know but a handful.

It's funny how people on the street are just people to you, they're just scenery. They're background props to a moment, elated, over-exaggerated, or pretentious may it be.

It's funny how we're their props, too. Just a silly face passing us, but a beautiful one should they be in love, but a mocking one, should they not.

It's funny how when we say a big number, we don't truly know its quantity. Yes, we fully comprehend the immense quality (provided the subject), but the quantity? It's just a mathematical term we've learned, memorized, and forgotten.

It's funny how people give Christmas gifts with nametags. Why do you want to be uncovered? Why not leave the tiny surprise just that: a surprise. Leave it lingering with mystery on their front porch, and walk away?

It's funny how poets may have thought in prose. Do we all think in prose? It is much more enjoyable to think in poems, in alloted increments of syllables. It keeps your thoughts in check, keeps them controlled, severed, cut, and chained. We become like Petrarch: our minds grasped by our Lauras, our divine Lauras, but we torture ourselves with rules...

It's funny how poetry has a rhyme, reason, rrrrhythym... Yes, O Humanity, we've conquered our very minds. Though elusive and hesitant, we did it. Good job, ... Great job!... What now?

It's funny how some choose to live out of a screen. No, not without movement. That period lasts for what, 2 hours? We carry it with us, the quotes and the actions, the magic we wish we could have. We live out a character's (or multiple... Yes, usually multiple) dreams in real life. 5 stars.

It's funny how, the more we think, the more we think. Redundant? No, it's not. Thought is like learning: slow to start, but once it begins, it builds and builds and builds itself, by itself. Then, like Galileo's experiments, they end on the floor, SPLAT! Whether it be a watermelon or a drop of water, the object will reach the ground, its opposing force, in due time and end like all great thoughts end.

It's funny how the mind can hold more than the earth ever could, yet there are 6 billion of them on the earth at the same time. What a paradox... A space that can hold "x" amount of material houses "6,000,000,000x" amount of thought. Yes, my numbers are just figures of approximation, I understands. Some of the world's potentially loveliest and greatest minds are wasted on heroin, and some exceed such standard as stated above. But still, what a paradox!

It's funny how- Well, do you find it funny how... My jokes have been getting progressively longer? Yet... Where's the punch line? You're surely not laughing yet. I know I'm not.

Well, here's the punch line:

...To get to the other side.

Yes, my surplus of useless thought is made up for in my lack of creativity pertaining jokes... Or anything of the hilarious sort. I go without a sense of humor, really. Yet I find the world incredibly hilarious (as you can probably see above).

In 10 years, my elevated and strained language/vocabulary will be absolutely necessary and expected. Everyone (if they haven't already) will catch up with me, and I'll look like a dunce for just being another one of the general public... But doesn't that include everyone?

So, in preparation and in true nerd spirit, I'm increasing my vocabulary. Dictionary{dot}com has this wonderful sidebar selection called "Word of the Day." I'm using this to my advantage, and using the "Words of the Days."

And today's is... Drum roll, please!...

HAUTEUR.

In case you don't know the meaning, it means bearing a haughty or arrogant manner. I hope my "elevated" language does not cause me to display myself as a person of hauteur!

So, my reason is stereotype-worthy. Also, on a more typical note, I hope to use these words in my English essays in the future... In fact, I should definitely make a list! Yes, this year will be a Year of Knowledge. Mmmm.

So, my spiel is done. Begone, dull care.

I wake up.

I wake up.

In a cold room.

I go outside.

To a cold world.

I get dressed.

To hide myself in warmth and colour.

I put my glasses on.

To be able to see the shades of grey.

I don't laugh.

Because I've been coupled with cold .

I don't smile.

Because frost collects on my lips.

I don't think.

Because it won't be thoughts warm and damask.

I don't open my eyes.

Because I'm tired of grey.

And somewhere, deep within the fences of my mind,

I've sewn myself a quilt of colour.

To withstand the grey.

I've sewn it with warmth and colour,

To cover up the grey.

I'm cold in a cold room, inside a cold world.

Or Did You Get Lost In Amsterdam?

So, completely normal post.

Wouldn't it be funny if you still read these? I just thought of that! You can't seem to muster up any nerve to say an insult or apology to my face, or even over the computer or phone. You're such a man.

But anyways, I'd like to thank this person. For insulting me. No, I'm serious!

I talked to O.T.H. today, and he said that this person insulted me and mocked me. You see, there was a bit of a problem because I play SO much better at soccer when I'm mad. Yesterday, I got so pissed off during a scrimmage against the boy's team that I was like "UGH! I'm fed up!" So I came up and like shoved Josh, and I was so happy because Andrew even said I was getting better! And he would NEVER say that about anyone. It made me proud. So today, E.B. was like "Ah! I need to get you angry, so you can beast at soccer!" And I'm like "But nothing makes me angry..."

UNTIL NOW! I heard what O.T.H. said, and I felt quite indignant. So, I've decided to carry this pissed-off-ed-ness with me over the weekend until Monday's soccer practice and Wednesday's GAME (maybe) and be aggressive. So thanks to this person for giving me a reason to be upset! It really helped.

Love forever and always,

Bianca!

Feeding Time With TV

Feeding tubes are the wires.

Subconsciously racked onto our brains, unaware of the origins.

The wires, though sitting halfway across the flickered room,

are impossibly linked to us, halfway across the flickered room.

The shadows dancing of hues and saturations,

of hints of what could be words, what could be substantial.

Containing the standard, yet shirking to provide just this.

Bare minimum we are fed through a screen, meals pushed through the pores.

Bare minimum liquid words, from the station to the brain.

Bare minimum accepted with rush, with fervor.

Accepted as substantial, for it's all we know.

Yet should we look inside, the meager meals become known.

The human mind, starved weak, stretched taught on thin bones,

still accepting the meals with fervor and delight.

Skin doled among bones, bones assigned skin to protect the vulnerability.

The collapsing skeletons of human minds wander in and out,

weaving through what we are given, trying to piece a thought.

From what lacking we are provided,

such lacking the harvests reaped.

Still, every night when sunlights and skylights flicker out

and man-light replaces these with its odd hues and saturation,

we partake in this restricted meal,

deemed the appropriated dosage, a standard set by invisible hands.

The Invisible Hands, the framework behind our words.

The same hands that coax the skeletons into submission,

to believe what is given is plenty.

Night after night, we sit,

eyes shoved with blasphemous meals, ears clogged with useless "must-knows."

Night after night, sitting in a human-lit darkness,

we wait and wish for the feeding tubes to deliver something new.

Praying for this meal to finally be enough,

for this feeding tube to present us with the new standard.

Yet night after night, in our self-imposed

hues and saturations,

the same meals are recycled and shipped straight from the Invisible Hands.

The wires as feeding tubes.

Rerejazz.

I.

Tonight, I turned the city on its tip.

I rotated all angles to 90 degrees, and watched the people slip with them.

All with the curve of a glance, the city was mine for a night.

The sky was mine, and the noises that came from the left and right of me were mine, too.

I gently lay my back on cold metal bleachers.

It was a Friday night, in late September.

It was a Friday night, the moon was hindered by the clouds.

A tiny light-dampened spot managed to struggle through the weave of cloud,

But it was so dim.

It was just a patch of pale-moon against a ceiling of grey.

The sky had scared me that evening when I stepped out of my house.

On my way to run, I stood, taken aback, at the sight.

It was unlike any other I'd witnessed.

The sky had vanished.

The sun had become a mere feeling of warmth, had ceased to be something of sight.

The colours didn't blend:

They chopped, they melted quickly, they galloped along to the next town.

The clouds went with them, but this only brought a new wave

Of crashing, crashing silent clouds.

This is what the pre-Apocalypse looks like, I thought to myself.

Fast forward, now.

Fast forward to then.

On middle school bleachers on a Friday in late September.

With that nighttime pre-Apocalypse sky above me,

With that awkward, youthful school dance to the right of my ears,

With that cold steel frame under my chilled body,

With that sight.

The sight of a city on its side is the second most beautiful sight.

And I did it all myself!

Just a curve of a glance, and it was there.

Red lights, white lights, green lights for go, all in the distance.

They all spread up and up to make a line that did not end.

The roads drove down and up and down the horizon line,

And people in cars continued to drive...

Unaware that their city was on its side!

I bet people still walked the streets that went straight down.

And children still ran away from mothers, up sidewalks that could not be ran up.

Yes, they were all unaware of what I had done.

The world still spun left to right for them.

But my world was on its side.

My world was spinning in a new direction...

It spun up and up and up until it collided with that pale-moon patch.

And it continued, continued, continued, crashing silent clouds...

Until I told it to stop.

II.

Time isn't just all around.

It floods all around.

It fills up our day, it fills up our words and heads with foolishness.

Time has somehow managed to creep into everything these days.

I've found her sitting in my chair, where I should be.

But I refused her, and found time someplace else.

But it's not only her, no.

It's those cursed months and seasons, too!

The light through my blinds is woven with late June.

The merciless sun that shines even when I tell it not to.

Warmth that conflicts with my feelings, and I wish it away.

In an empty room where you're gone, and you are too.

I walked downstairs to the kitchen, and it smelled of a March morning.

I'm not feeling so great, I know long days are ahead, but at least I have now.

Mornings are the worst, I said.

Mornings are the best..., I think.

The air outside is definately October.

Saturated October 'til the end.

I can almost see the nonexistent leaves in the rare wind...

Just give it a few weeks. They'll appear.

But then again, the breeze is December.

You'll always hold the most memories, December.

I thought that things could get better, but they didn't.

They got worse and worse until they just fizzled out.

Yes, you are merciful and naive and kind.

You grant the people a breath of fresh air, a cool breeze, a moment to rest...

Until they discover that you are fleeting down the block.

You are carrying yourself farther and farther away,

Down the block and onto the bodies of new people.

Goodbye, December.

You always leave and catapult into January, where I re-start my new findings.

I always end with you a different person I began.

I guess you know me well by now.

I guess you're in another town by now, fooling some other fool like me.

"There's one born every minute."

There's one born every minute...

A Wishlist

I want the weather to be cold.

I want to feel rain on my skin when I run tomorrow.

I want to have a reason to shiver when someone mentions you.

I want to feel something tomorrow.

I want to be numb tomorrow, just like everyday.

I want Katie to be okay.

I want her to realize: she is like me, and that story didn't end well the first time.

I want my story to end better, speaking of that.

I want my naivety and my hope in the world to remain, after pain and irrationality have been stripped away.

I want the person I used to be to still be there.

I want to be her again.

I want to see the world through her eyes, to feel alive no matter what happened.

I want to feel alive.

I want this numbness to fade.

I want to have not ended up like this.

I want to go back in time and un-grow a few maturity years.

I want to be able to join in with people and not feel so out of place.

I want to start caring.

I want to stop caring.

I want you to please move on, although I don't. I wish I could make sense of my feelings. Perhaps pick them apart until they make sense.

I want to be able to understand this: if I abhor you, why do I pray that you will be okay?

I want to not contradict myself.

I want Jenna to be okay.

I want her to move on and not miss him.

I want her to stay with me because I feel as though she is one of my only friends.

I want to be able to express how much I'd miss her if she left.

I want her to see that I do care, really.

I want to understand life.

But more than anything, I just want the weather to be cold.

THe Absence of Thoughts

i haven't written anything substantial in forever.

ah, i feel like i'm losing my lost mind.

i feel like i've felt my whole life.

but last year was different...

it seems like the whole human race doesn't live within themselves,

but rather live externally.

they can see the world around them,

passing and passing through "thoughts" and moments.

but they don't stop to think.

they don't "take a second for reflection,

take a leave of absence."

it seems like that's the only thing i do.

i'm aware that i'm living, but am i?

it's scary, the way my mind is.

it makes me doubt everything.

and i don't know what i'm saying anymore. hm.

but i feel myself losing that bit of me everyday.

the little part that hangs onto the inside...

that puts a brake on moments, puts my life at a standstill.

and for a second i'm just alive...

i need to think more.

i miss it.

i miss being who i was...

a person who thinks too much but doesn't let anyone know.

now i'm just becoming like everyone else.

"don't think about it."

"it confuses you? just don't think about it."

but i can't NOT think about anything.

wait, let me rephrase that.

i can't stop my mind from thinking something.

i can't push a phrase or thought or idea out of my head.

it just lingers there... until it doesn't.

then it goes away.

it runs its course, i guess you could say.

but it doesn't push itself away. i don't know what does.

but if i could find out what does, i'd never think again.

maybe that'd be nice.

but, honestly, i don't want to live externally.

"indoor living," yeah. that sounds nice.

living within yourself, but with knowledge of the outside too.

a balance.

i'm sure people have had these problems, too.

i just don't know of any.

maybe we all feel this way, but never tell anyone.

so no one will ever know.

every person will go on thinking how brutally alone they are,

when really it isn't "alone," it's "quiet."

that's kind of sad...

oh well.

i wish i could find the thoughts to write forever.

i wish i could just sum myself up into an entry and let it be done with.

but since i can't do that, a lot of these will be coming up.

just a warning.

you know what's lame?

a lot of things.

the fact that people mock feelings.

they mock them and share OTHER PEOPLE'S with people they'd prefer them not to.

thank you, bastard and bitch.

you have fully succeeded in being inhumanly intelligent.

i thought that level of immatureness could only be reached by a bad-tempered 5-year-old.

you've proved me wrong.

i'm sick of how immature everyone is.

is refusing to talk to someone beacuase you simply know any chance of intelligent conversation is impossible wrong?

is that rude? is it... what is it? what is it that made you hate me?

i told you i wasn't going to turn your friends against you.

i haven't.

but they are, because of the way YOU've been acting.

when i ask them about you, they say they'd rather not be friends because you're being an idiot!

it's not my fault.

so why are you taking it out on me?

all i did was move on with my life.

isn't that what you wanted in the first place?

i'm just giving you what you want.

we don't belong in each other's lives, and i'm sure you miss me just about as much as i miss you (none.)

so why do you hate me?

why do you tell people rude stories about me that make me seem crazy?

yes, i was crazy. i'll be the first to admit.

but going around and telling people that kind of stuff is just... just so rude.

i have things i know about you that i swore i'd NEVER tell.

ever.

because that'd be the wrong thing to do.

there are also things that you've said to me that you probably don't want people knowing.

stuff you've done.

i still haven't told anyone that stuff.

because what's the point in embarrassing you?

your lack of substantial conversation is embarrassing you enough. i almost pity you.

i don't like embarrassing people.

even people i dislike.

because embarrassment is one of the worst feelings, i think.

so i wouldn't do that.

but i guess that's another thing we differ in...

i think about my actions and you don't.

i hope you have fun being the person that you are.

i also kind of hope you change... not for me or for anyone around you,

but for yourself.

and if you claim you are already who you want to be,

i genuinely hope that person is a kind, honest, and mature person who you will stay true to.

but maybe, just maybe... i've got you all wrong.

You.

You didn't leave a hole in my heart.

You didn't tear me apart and into pieces.

You didn't even get to me...

Once I found something inside to get me through,

A tiny piece of ... hope? Love? The future...?

Once I found it, I also found that you can't hurt me anymore.

You didn't leave a lingering abscense when you left...

So maybe you were just taking up space in the first place.

every little pat on the shoulder for attention fails to mention i still hate you.

hm. i should write down some of my stuff here. yeah. okay. uhh.
i'm going to go write a song today. hear that jenna, bails, and sarah? i'm going to!
yeah. don't really know what to say.
except that:
it's a weird kind of pain i'm feeling now.
it's like a dull sense in the pit of my stomach.
it feels a lot like butterflies... funny that it's the opposite.
it happens when i think of something in the past.
something that hurts to remember.
something that makes me feel like a fool.
like your pity.
pity... i hate it.
did you really think leading me on, making me think things were okay, that it would make me happy?
maybe at the time, since i had no clue.
but now, once i find out.
now is when pity turns to shame turns to hurt.
thank you.
for making me look like a blind idiot.
making yourself seem like a kind person for bestowing pity on me and not wanting to "hurt my feelings."
it really worked, especially now.
but so many times i've told myself to change.
"stop being so jealous!"
"stop being so needy!"
"stop being so demanding!"
all that.
and you know what?
i'm working on it.
day by day.
theres so much i want to ask...
so much i want to know and to be sure of.
but i'm not going to ask those questions. never again.
because that brings me back to the pity thing.
i ask them and all i get is pity and lies.
sometimes i want to be told the cold hard truth, you know.
so yeah.
enough with the questions.
they'll remain in my head and on paper.
nowhere else.
it's sad that you're such a blind fool.
i almost feel sorry for you... almost.

i don't even know anymore

what the hell did i do wrong?

how can a person try so hard and still get no where?

i wish this would all go away

just

i dont know.

why can't i just be me again?

i remember a time when i was so happy

and so carefree and people would come to me for advice

and i would just want to love

nothing more than to love

i need to fix this now

it's gotten so out of control

so so out of control...

lately the crying has been so bad. :\

i cant take it anymore...

it's like.. pain stronger than i've ever felt...

the way i'm acting, i'm going to lose everyone.

i know it.

if i mistreat everyone, they will leave me.

itsj ust like i was told:

if i expect everyone to always be there for me

to always try to cheer me up

then no one is going to want to

everyone will just leave eventually....

but i feel pretty damn alone already.

alone in my thoughts

alone in this pain...

you know?

there used to be a time

i could trust you would never leave me

never just let me fall flat on my face like that

yeah... i don't think that way anymore.

i'm aware of my faults, so why can't i fix them?

why can't i just fucking fix them...

why do i always think about it...

then nothing happens??

what am i doing??

well i cant control that at this very moment.

i guess i can start over, right?

i can always start over.

who says i can't?

the same people who say it'll be so hard for me to.

but i don't care.

i don't want to live my whole life just "accepting" that i'm this or that.

if i don't like it, i will change it.

starting where?

how?

when will i see an oppurtunty to?

i just hope it's not too late...

i just hope i haven't done enough damage.



you know.. my mind's just been so jumbled lately.

i'm like:

well maybe this isn't all my fault. why am i blaming myself for everything?

then i'm like:

of course i'd say that. i don't want it to be my fault, naturally. bianca, stop being a victim and start doing something.

so i dont know what to think...

which voice is right...?

am i a victim?

i don't feel like one... not really.

yeah sometimes i feel wrongly blamed..

but mostly i put the blame on myself.

that's probably not so good either.

but if there's no one to blame,

where does the blame go?

honestly...

sometimes i wonder where stuff you can't see goes.

like time.

time goes on, time goes fast.

but goes... where?

behind us? beside us? imprinted in our minds?

where do emotions go?

do they remain in our heart?

or do the leave us entirely?

what am i saying..

this isn't the point!!



but wow.

if i can't make you happy, who can i make happy?

you know, that's all i really ever wanted.

was to make someone happy.

to make their life change in good ways.

to be there for them always, no amtter what.

am i doing a good job of that?

because sometimes you don't seem so happy with me.

how you could be happy with me baffles me.

so i don't know.

i'm not happy with myself... haha.

i'm not happy at all right now.

right now i feel like i'm choking

i just want to lie in bed

listen to music

sit there

fall asleep

and wake up and everything is better

everything is the same:

you love me, i love you.

you won't leave me

i'm good to you.

i'm not good to you now.

it's like i'm not happy until someone is sad.

wow. that's not love.

thats selfish.

i'm selfish.

you hear that?

i'm a selfish bitch.

who isn't capable of loving anyone.

wow... i sure hope i'm just lying to myself.

but i'm not so sure.

love and happiness.

the most difficult emotions for me to actually feel.

//written 30May2009.//

"west is all i know," say my sun

written jan. 7, 2007

stay away, stay out.
i'll keep you under the glow of pity.
not as bright as pride,
but i'll take what i can get.
do you really want to help?
the way you say you do?
save my life by not letting me love you.
hope gets you no where,
faith leaves you blinded,
and love is the worst gift that you've taken away from me.
remember this:
"this means nothing.
these words are lifeless."
let them fall unto your tongue, and they are acid.
you're the only one who can hurt me like this.
don't say sorry, it comes out wrong.
don't say you love me, because i actually believe your lies.

[second to] last breath

written 2007/2008...

every song ends
every ending needs a song.
so i'm going to need one soon.
these words mean nothing
until you match the notes
to the one i left outside your door.
read it and weep, i'm not coming back.
you're singing the wrong lines
i'm crying the wrong tears
making fools of ourselves
and promises meant to be broken.
who needs ruled when we have...
all we need is...
all we have is...
standing on the balcony
i hear it all below
where i'm going, you'll be there
but you're not. you're in the threshold.
i'll dedicate this to you: my second to last breath.
i already have plans for the last.
to the song in your heart,
good riddance, goodbye...
good times i've had, listening to your lies.
my ears are already full
i can't see what it is
it sounds like...
it must be...
but it's not you, it's me.
and has been all along.
it's too late now
i'm past the second
time for the last
here's to the song in your heart,
"sing a new song of death."

my second to last breath.

The Morning After the Suicide

what is that in my hand?
what are these new thoughts in my head?
i don't remember...
oh... the way you said i love you.
i can't remember anything at all.

and i needed a break but what i got was...
and i wanted a heart, but what i got was yours to begin with.

wake up, look inside.
but i cannot find you there anymore.
wake up, look around.
it's just empty sounds, every word you said that remains in my head.
wake up to the morning after.

Unnamed 3

left to somewhere unknown
lights like a fire burn and die.
walked in a cold glass world,
the water is my breath, how drowning.

what do you do when they've forgotten?
how can you speak in this dark?
what do you say when they walk away?

the words are on my eyes, the life in my lungs.
i need you in my veins, i need you back.
we miss you... we love you.

grey like ice, everything's dissolved.
red salt, blue bird.. sing for me.
colours are vivid and thoughts run free.
just... please.

what it is to Breathe

see who exsists in the night.
the ones who have no one to go home to.
they fill your heart with a strange ache.
as a thought, "saturday, in the wake of,"...

it's these that make you think.
remember times when you were on the edge?
the tears and heros on my broken summer,
thoughts that dared to go through my head.

Broken Hearted Summer

who wants to save a lost cause?
maybe because if it proves to be of no avail, you can gloat.
and if it works out, you are left with a broken hearted summer.

all the inside jokes.
all the smiles.
all the times we exchanged "i love you"s and only one of us meant it.
this love is reciprocated into scars.

maybe we love to hurt.
maybe we just smile to lie.
but i'm sick of everything i do turn me into someone i'm not.

sarah's december 17th

april 20th, 2008

she'll remember the day
she'll remember the way they cried
at first, you don't want to feel so numb...
but then it's all you want.

picture perfect, caught up in her moments.
picture perfect... what could go wrong?

i'm trying to get inside your head.
how could this feel?
i know you thought it was dead.
it wasn't real.

our life as a leifmotif

what never was, will never be.
fingers like vines, helplessly reaching for
a peace stronger than death
a smile longer than love
what everyone wants, what no one needs...
will never be.

a flash of white, snow, grinning grim
you are foolish, you were my hope
you and i were summer...
fall came too soon, it fell into my sighs.

what almost was, will never be.
what i thought was you, it was me.
what is mine? what is yours?
i can't seem to make this real... and it never will be.

holding onto cold stares, the warmest thing i can find.
holding onto blank stares.
please don't say no.

Unnamed 2

Feb. 24, 2008 10:32 pm

why did i ever smile and lean in for the kill?
was i that blind?
was i that naive?
you blamed every glance, glare, and gloat to blame myself.
strategic suicide, that's all you'll ever be.
i thought i had you with me, but your mind was on darker thoughts.

so what can i say? and they drag you away...
i'm sorry, but i think the exucutioner is right.
i could shed my tears or hide my smiles...
but then i'd be thinking of you.

Statistics That Will Change Your Death

February 11, 2008

I noticed the gradual slipping away
into the night; i am more aware than you ever will be aware of.
i remember a whisper in my bleeding eyes:
"i lie because you can't handle the truth."
no, i can't handle the lies.
everything was golden for a bit, then quickly fades to livid grey.
the bitter aftertaste of poetic posion in my heart.
even as you're not here, i see you,
so close but too far away.
if i try a little harder, if i cry a little more, maybe you'll come back.
if i soil your good soul with my tears and droplets of silver revenge, will you come back to me?
but desperation is death, separation is life.
tainted by bruising love, i didn't see...
i was better off without you.
but can i just let go like that?
can i change from a broken "kid that didn't make it" to another shocking statistic?
can i let them hook me up to machines and let them store into my mind, but they will never touch my heart?
i am not a statistic.
i am not a lost lover.
i am not your sweet revenge.
incoherent and oh-so-profound to hide the scars.
too young, too forsaken, too claimed.
they'll all bow their heads in sugar-coated, fake sorrow, to please the mourning parents.
they'll touch my cold, dead skin and whisper a goodbye, but i hear not what comes from their mouth.
i hear the words i crave and fear.
the ones that show they cared too much to not come, but not enough to be sincere.
they'll cry their tears though they feel no regret.
"what a shame."
"such a beautiful girl."
they will mutter to their eternally healthy spouses and children, as if death is a mistake i've made.
they're right.
i am a shame, but i'm not beautiful.
i was only beautiful once, under the warm glow of love.
but someone sits in the back of the pews, far backed by shadows.
they do not cry.
they do not speak.
they do not go to my coffin.
it is a boy. his face holds the still grace of familiarity, but when i come to grasp his name, my mind chases it farther back.
as first i feel outraged.
why would he come to my funeral, and not as much shed a tear?
i study his face with the parochial eyes of suspicion.
then he breathes a word.
no, two.
i know what i am wanting to hear is tainting the truth, but i again struggle to listen.
come.
back.
then i remember who he is. the one who caused this.
"is this not what you've wanted?" i ask of him... increduosly.
"never" he speaks softly, as if his words are causing a drift between us.
"never?" i begin. "then what were the lies and the pain? were they to make me happier, that you hated me so much as to lead me down to Hells gates? you knew..."
he closed his eyes and took a painful step forward.
then he repeated never. and returned to his pew.
stunned, i remember all of it.
the medications the machines the tubes the wires the "worried" nurses.
i was wrong.
i am just another statistic for some scared, hearthbroken teenager to read about.
but i had forgotten the missing edge.
what if i had mistaken lies for the truth, which seemed too good to be true?
and i had.
so it's not his fault i will never be with him again.
that i will never hold his hand, or calm his fears, or walk beside him again.
that he will go though the rest of his years, knowing i will never feel summer's breeze of winter's darkness or fall's new beginnings again.
and all that time, he will lose hour of sleep and nightmares, thinking it's his fault.
when it had been mine all along.
now i can only sigh and think about that missing edge...

Who I Am

January 27, 2008


I'm the worst and best friend you'll (n)ever have.
I'll tell your secrets, but only to those you mistrust.
I'll keep them from the trusted.
I'll mix and dissect and reword things until it's all the same.
I'll cleear things up, but only when you cry blood for me.
I'll hold your hand after I've broke your heart.
I'll convince you I'm here when I really never was.
I'll hurt you when you're broken, only because it numbs you.
I am here.. but i'm not with you.
I'm the nothingness that fills your emptied soul.
I'm what you'd never thought was there.
I'm what's left, and you don't want me.
I'm what's meant for you, but I was born to bury your throat until you choke.
Who I am. Who am I?
I'm you.

Unnamed 1

January 13, 2007 11:26 pm


I can pretend like it's okay
and spare myself a tear.
I can pretend like i'm loved
and... then what?
No, no one loves me.
I'm asking for a bleeding heart.
stab me until i'm gone.
please... if you leave, who will break me?
and who will save me?
no one.
who will hate me, love me, keep me safe yet kill me?
I will.
and you wil stand there and smile.

i'll promise us one thing.

that i'm going to write down all my poems, no matter how stupid or unture they are.
uhm... enjoy?

On Trying and Failing

and there comes a fine line between exhaustion and i-could-care-less.
i'm not at the not caring side, yet, love.
don't get me wrong.
i'm just exhausted.
it's as if every conversation would end with me breathless...
so breathless, and such a waste.
do you remember when you came to me for advice?
that first.. oh when was it? summer?
so far away back... seems like forever, no?
well, you came to me for my opinion.
and i gave it to you. i did. i tried so hard.
maybe i'm just missing something here... am i?
am i just not understanding what goes on in your mind?
or are we really that different, now?

and you, love. i'm so sorry.
it takes times like these to udnerstand what you meant.
when i broke down? and when i wasn't afraid to show you what i'm like when i'm not me.
you were there. and you told me how you felt and i listened.
and at the time, i didn't understand...
now i completely do.
i'm so sorry.
so sorry.
we are all human... being human sucks sometimes, doesnt it, love?
but i need to learn to listen to you...
before i move a notch up on the hypocrite scale, yes?

but isn't it odd? to think all of the things we must practice to be good:
kindness, good listening, selflessness, etc.
it doesn't seem so hard written down on paper.
but then when you try to balance human emotion against those, guess which wins?
can no one see it? that i do try...
i try so hard... maybe the attempts go all the way from my heart up to my mind and they stop there.
is that it? is that what you see? nothing?
because so many times i've contradicted my own emotion to help someone.
it's hard, it is. but i've tried.
i'm not going to go on some self-admarating speech about how good i am.
i'm not.
i try and try and try and get no where.
so i'll try and try until the end of time, until my attempts can touch someone's life.
and if they don't?
i will at least be able to say i gave it my best shot, but missed.

so i guess it's time to say:
"good bye, opinions."
and toss away the key.

venting to a hollow hallway

i need to vent.
i've been holding this all in. i just want everyone to happy, i don't want them to see me cry. i don't want them to worry or ask me what's wrong. i don't want them to spend precious time and effort on the lowest of low: me.
but then again, i do.
it's weird... it's like, i strive to be a good friend and say all those things. but... i do want them. and i feel like a bitch for saying it. and i'm sick of feeling like the unluckiest person on earth, because i'm NOT. i KNOW i'm not. i try not to be demanding, i try not to seem like i'm that bad, but i cant help it. people probably already think it about me... why try? why try ANYTHING? nothing will help this. nothing has so far, at least. and i think: why me, God? is it so someone else WON'T suffer? or is just 'beacuse'?
what am i living for? honestly...
i wish you were with me now. but i know that i'll only make you upset, because i'm upset. but then again, if you DON'T get upset, i'll feel as though you don't care.
i'm playing sick mind-games with myself... and so far, people can only lose.
the truth is, love:
i want you to be here. i want to vent to you. i want you to hold me and tell me you still would love me no matter how difficult i get. i want you to stay here with me and warm my cold hands and tell me you love me when i start to shake and cry and want to die. i want you here with me, because i miss you terribly. i need you so much... and i don't show it. i feel like such a JERK! you always tell me how important i am to you. me? a self-centered, confused bitch? you really chose ME to deal with? i don't understand why ANYONE would. i want you to be happy, but i want to be happy with you. and i never tell you how much i love you. but i do... mroe than anything. just seeing you tonight made me happy. it made me ... i don't know. it's something i'll never understand: the way you make me feel and the way you feel about me. i worked so hard to just see you happy... so hard, because that's all i want. but then i turned away from you, thinking it was best... did i hurt you? i'm so sorry... i'm so confused, i'm shaking and crying and i only know one thing: i need you. more than anything.
yep, tow of the things i want most in the world: to get better, and to be with you.
and i feel like the harder i try to be a good friend, the more people get frustrated with me. am i changing and not knowing it? do YOU notice? does it hurt you? i'm sick of this. i wish i was normal and healthy. i wish i knew how to make it better. i wish i knew how to be a good friend. i wish i knew a lot of stuff. but i don't, and i'll have to live with it.
goodnight, my love.
happy birthday, from the girl who loves you more than anything in this whole world, and would give anything to see you smile right now. i hope you're having fun.

influence.

today, i went wandering.


i went past the pale scrubs and the burning brush.


i drifted past the treehouse where we sat.


strangers, we talked for hours and i knew i changed.


i felt my heart tug and pull and twist until it had no option but to give.


crumbling under weight of influence, i found my thoughts emerged in you.


i took more steps, driving, hard, pushing through trees.


scars brushing their lips on my arms and my legs.


kissing my chin and shins and leaving their bloodred spirit on me.


and i turned at the left and the rights and the wrongs i've let pass me by.


i stopped thinking about where i was two years ago, where i'll be two years from now.





and time stopped.





teal grotto shimmering in a seal-grey skyfall.


a cloud drifts and ripples across it and a perfect moment is distrubed.


i decided to move on, and let the water ripple behind me in serene stillness.


and everytime i glace upward, an infinite blue ceiling encases this Earth.


is there anything beyond the blue?


anything i've missed? anything i've noticed but passed by?


a gentle wind plays with my hair and tosses it, stark against the scenes.


everything around me reminds me that miracles are not rare:


they happen everyday.


miracles are what set our world in motion.


perhaps, they are so common that we do not think them to be miracles.


the sky, the colors, the wind and the fields.


those are all miracles... they tumble, gurgle and chase the earth all around, up-down-below.





i brought nothing but my thoughts and the air that i breathe.


and i sat upon that cold, cutting stone and brushed my mind of all thought.


i centered, pinpointed, on one thing: how i thought nothing would change.


love is a cage... now love is a key.


how did so many days pass and pass my mind, yet i didn't notice?


how many years did i spend never knwoing this?


but most importantly, and i try not to think about:


how many days, weeks, months, passed that i never once glanced upward?


what is a life without the blue of the skies touching, caressing my youthful eyes.


and so i let time pass over my mind like a flock of hands of clocks... tick, tock, turn, the end.


its hands swept over my eyelids like a blanket and i floated...





to summer.


sweet, sweet july. hot, heat july. remember?


we named each creature, we explored every corner of that god-forsaken field.


we lived in the moment and laughed at our stupidest moment.


and we knew it was fleeting... we felt it slipping from our fingers.


the burn of time burning down with licking flames.


and so i stepped back onto the same field, some seven months passing.


i found green patches in its sun-yellow grass and i despised them.


it's odd: i've come to despise the green patches of grass.


all too perfect, too cliche. they shine and glisten as little children admire their "beauty."


but true beauty lies in imperfection.


the rugged hills, the cracked concrete against warm soil, the sun blinding my already blurry vision.


that is what makes life beautiful...


not the shiny green grass or the tall prison stone cases we like to call "home."


i drifted in the field and skipped around the empty cages where our memories once howled.


they howled and jumped on their kennels, begging to be released.


so we released them, to see their reaction.


just to see the howls loosen from their lips and the sadness drag away from their eyes.


just to see them in the field and play among new memories that we have yet to live.


having done that, we trudged away from the field with our summer hair and summer loves.


we said goodbye and parted... two worlds touching for an instant, that instant.


do you ever think back that far? do you ever think about that one moment when everything clicked and changed?


i do.





flames, burn, burn higher. the light my eyes and my skies and my stone upon i'm sitting.


the cold turns to heat just as night msut surrender to the day eventually.


the colours: orange, gold, misty greys and vibrant reds, sparkle in my mind as i remember... fall.


and that's exactly what it was: a fall. a free fall into a new life of change, thinking, pensive...


but the beginning was so slow, so dissapointing.


every second that passed, knowing i didn't have YOU.


how could i have YOU when i didn't know YOU?


then i found you... and this is where my fall tipped and i jumped off thsoe bleachers.


into a sunset so dripping with potential. a new tradition starts in a line, in a night when everything changed.


for a few moments, i actually thought i had you. ha! who was i kidding?


who was i bidding for? did i love you, or did i love love? the idea of love?


the key, the golden, gleaming, glinting key. it radiated all around me...and i let it slip into another's hands.


so many daynights i spent, wishing you'd just turn around... just turn around and talk at me.


just to see your words move from your lips to my ears, to know they were meant for me to hear.


that was enough... it was plenty...


then something happened. and i lost that want, i lost all my wants.


anger gutted out my heart and splattered it on the marble floors of Emotion, left to rot in Pain.


it's the worst feeling: having someone else being chosen over you.


it lets loose your darkest emotions: envy, hurt, jealousy, confusion.. all at once.


i didn't let it hurt me, and stone-faced i walked right past hell's gates and... moved on?


i found someone new, someone blue and used and always borrowed.


and every time a wrinkle formed around your eyes and your smile, my heart weakened a little bit more.


my sigh deepened and became relief, rushing rushing rushing down towards my throat to make me say the words i knew i didn't mean.





tumbling from my drunken days in fall, i found myself head-first in winter's passing.


snow white stars that shot from the unbreakable black of night...


and i must say, though i'll never know: yes, the stars are absolutely brilliant at 5 am.


winter was so blinding and... new.


the feelings that cursed my thin veins, they flood the cold newness into my brain and heart.


the ... the what? i was in denial as to what it was.


but i held onto it as it fled away, a runaway train slinking off into an uncharted forest.

this was the end and the beginning of my new life. a new, new life.

how could i know? you pulled me aside said "no, i love fish" and laughed.

i'd love to laugh the way you laugh.

to sound like a thousand shining suns sound like when they give off their sunshinelight.

to sound like you sound, to sound like you.

ha. ha. i laughed a stale laugh and you told me what i'd known all along.

what! stop! is that tickatock in my chest beating faster? is the key in your hand?

i say words that come to mind, but come to heart, and i push them and you away.

i leave and you leave.

i leave. i've left.

i've left behind your tickatock clock in your chest... beating on a football field...

goodbye, love.

but it was only seconds later that i considered a second chance was not... considerable.

who was i kidding? what am i saying...

stop! wait! no, no, no, i'm here, i'm here, i just.... don't know.

i left you to burn out, my sun, and darkness spreads over the... snow?

"like ancient bruises?"

bruises... ancient, on my heart. are you my key? so blue and black, so black and blue, so tender, so afraid to touch for fear of pain, pain...

you left on a plane, i went for a walk in the cold forrest.

silent, i was wishing for your hand in mine. my thought in your mind, at least.

i moved like the fog in the forest as it grew dark, darker, and darkest some more.

i melted, depsite the temperate, into the scene and never came out.

i never came out... i'm still there. a little piece of me, at least.

i mean, a little piece of everyone is everywhere, right? it depends on who you know and how they hold your heart, and that's all.

if you look, if you really'd like it... you'll find me in your local small town moon.

sometimes i see us in the grains of cielings in hospitals.

it's my birthday, i'm 15 and i'm as alone and sick as ever.

i'm sitting there while an angry woman is taking pictures of what makes me sick.

and i'm silenting mouthing happy birthday to myself...

theni found you on the cieling.

you were kissing me. you were smiling at me. you were even saying i'd be okay.

i smiled to myself and i made it through okay... okay... okay.

okay, okay. i skipped through my past.

i'll admit i pressed the fast forward button, okay?

we all make mistakes that spill onto our achievements.

they pale them. they inken them. they blacken them...

they discolour them until we cannot find them, as hard as we look.

maybe that's why when i look in glass i see none other than Mistakes herself.

she's beautiful and sinful and alluring.

she isn't me. she's just part of me. hello, part-me.

hello, hello, hello, love.

goodbye, goodbye, goodbye...

good morning.

good afternoon...

good evening, mister, may i take your glass?

good winter and summer and seasons that've passed.

good life, i hope you may have.

good moments without me and within my mind.

good all around, good in my eyes.

goodnight little moon.

goodbye, love.