fast forward
Once again, words escape me. This is all I have. Not my best, and personal. Oh well.
It was sunny, bright, warm. People were laughing, talking. Chalk, a drawing. Music in the background, some Jesus crap. I don’t listen. Solitude. Me and my chalk. Lonliness. Could just ignore her. I ignore them all instead. Chalk is almost gone. Drawing is done. Pride seeps into my veins. Someone steps on it. Pride’s gone.
A friend finds me. Fast forward. The others find us. Laughter. Jokes. Awkward, she’s right there. More laughter. Fast forward.
A play. A shadow. A message. Memories. Why didn’t he save her? Nat… Why didn’t he save Pop-pop? Why couldn’t they see? Why didn’t he help me? Fast forward. A sermon. They didn’t say there would be a sermon. Shut up. Why is he saying this? How does he know? Shut up. Don’t touch me. NO!
Friends. Silence. Goodbyes. Hugs. Warm, close hugs. Tears. No, I don’t want to let go. I’m safe here. Talking. Laughing, through the tears. I’m not screaming inside anymore. We’re running. But not alone. And not away. Laughing under an indigo sky.
Thanks.
Bare Bones
My life over the last few weeks- months even- in a word. The ability to read minds… so completely horribly wonderful an idea for a power, and one that the thought of is rather appealing. What are they thinking? Am I wasting my time? This is not only about relationships, though this may progress to become a rant of that sort, but that has been on my mind. A lot. Not just dating, but the definition of “friend” and just how far those bounds go.
First: Friends. I have those. Most are completely mad. I love them. Friends, good friends, are there for fucking everything. Helping you with math problems that even they don’t understand, dragging you to the mall to blow $50 on thigh high socks and smoothies, keeping you company till two in the morning via texting until they pass out on top of their phone, or simply holding you quietly as you try not to cry your eyes our, and fail miserably. They’re the ones that know when you need that warmer hug sometimes, that see tears lurking at the edge of your eyes from across the room and knock people out of the way to get to you. They stay up till unheard of hours of the morning talking about the most random shit to keep your mind off things. And yet… they aren’t Superman. They can’t always be there. They can’t always help, they can’t always know what’s going on. You can’t tell them. They might get hurt.
This is when people tend to turn to a relationship. Dating. Having that person you can go to, and know that they are yours. So many people thirst for that. Sometimes, you know exactly who that person is. Their hugs send warmth straight to your poor, twisted heart, their very scent makes you feel safe for that one moment. To see them in the slightest bit of pain rips your soul. You talk to them whenever you can. Even if it means falling flat on your face asleep later and running into shelves at work, you’re so tired. Because it’s worth it. They might not have any idea. You might not want them to have any idea. We are so afraid of screwing up a good friendship that many a potentially good relationship never gets started. Very depressing, in my opinion.
Where does this line between the two meet? It is so much more blurred in reality then modern day entertainment would lead us to believe. Throw some bisexuality in there and a person has no idea what to think. Safer to just go for guys unless you’re absolutely sure she likes girls. Otherwise.. whoo, nasty. Anyway, getting off subject.. the line. Sometimes you have no idea where you stand on said line with a person. Sometimes you know, and wish you could change it. You usually can’t, which sucks. A lot. Hell, there’s some people you feel like grabbing by the hand and whisking off to Neverland, because it sounds a hell of a lot better there. My point? Sometimes friendships bloom into good relationships, then die back into friendships. Sometimes friends try to date, it doesn’t work out, you say “eh, whatever.” and stay friends. Sometimes… Hell, sometimes bacon rains from the sky. A lot of shit can happen. That’s flippin life. As is screwing up in relationships, and friendships, and just -ships in general.
Do I have specific people in mind whilst writing this? Yes. If you ask, will I tell you if you are one of them? No.
Silver Bells
Happy Christmas all who celebrate.
Disappointment is a foul herb. It’s more bitter than the strongest of horseradish could ever hope to be. Over the holidays, we were supposed to see my grandparents and my aunt and uncle. Fate decided it would be otherwise…
Contrary to what a friend of mine said earlier, I’m not dieing. Sick, yes, but much better than previously. I got to think a lot this holiday, seeing as I couldn’t do much else. Unless I were to decide to take up coughing strange bits of matter out of my lungs as a hobby. Which would be a disgusting and painful hobby indeed.
As previously stated, I got to think. And to watch Death Note. So when mum finally kicked me off youtube, I started wondering.. Why do we bother? There are people that could clearly be defined,and have been defined, as hopeless cases. And yet, we stick around. Why? To watch the car crash? Because they’re pathetic and human caring won’t let us walk away? I don’t know which. Depends on the person, as it always does, I guess.
I hope that if I ever become a whining, pathetic panin the derriere, someone won’t be afraid to cuff me on the head and tell me to grow the hell up. Thank you to whomever does that in the future. Which me mum just did. Time to grow up. See ya, Peter. Don’t let Wendy take over too much. Be a man.
Walking the streets with friends on a cold fall night is one of the random things that makes life a little bit better. Lately, I’ve been on a pretty short fuse about a lot of things. Some things are occuring that I really wish weren’t. Some specific people are forgetting to think about the people around them, and people are getting hurt. The room gets tense and it’s impossible to relax. Finally, I was able to. I felt safe taking off my everyday mask. That hasn’t happened in too long a time.
Over the summer some events occured that cause me to hide inside myself for awhile. I tried on different masks, different personas, because I felt that if I fit into a specific definition, I’d feel more secure. If you know me at all you know I hate stereotypes.And yet, here I was, thrusting myself into slots, when I dispise the people who do just that. Being yourself is importaint. Hiding behind a mask only hurts. I’ve taken my mask off, and it’s time to face the world.
Rock and roll.
A world in colors..
Look around. People are everywhere. Many beautiful in their own way. Some seek only to poison the beauty of others, so they may appear more glorious then they really are. Some people are gifted with words, and can shape and form them into beautiful sculptures. People say beautiful things together, work beautifully together, like different pieces of color in an abstract painting. Greens and blues whisper quietly to one another, while yellows and reds laugh at something only they know. Black trails a thin line around the scene, joining them and yet separating them. A lighter blue and a darker green shyly glance at each other, but stand at a distance. White swirls in and out of focus, hazing part of their world from everyday eyes. A single block of grey stands alone. Grey does not belong with the cheerful red and yellow, or with the blues and greens that are so perfect alone. Grey is cold, damp, unfavorable. The color of cloudy days and long homework assignments, of filthy air and snow. The other colors dance around grey, saying join us, join us! But grey just looks at their vibrant hues and sighs. Grey does not belong, not here. Not with black’s dramatics every which way and white’s veiling of the truth. Not with red’s temper and yellow’s sunny disposition, nor the calmness of the greens, or the peacefulness of the blues. Grey is cold, miserable. And grey is alone.
