answer.

As the wall paper slowly peeled in the direction of the ceiling and the floorboards flew upward at the very touch of my footsteps, I fled. My world was being dismantled. I had to get out before I was torn apart myself. Fragments flew across my line of sight into oblivion. Maybe, I thought, Maybe if i followed I'd find the source of this chaos. I walked slowly, careful of where I stepped, along an endless plane of white. Nothing here, nothing there. As if guided by an internal compass I swiftly turned around and found myself standing in front of a mirror. I had found my answer.

Stars And Satlellites.

So I don't have internet at mt house anymore. So this is just a quick update while i'm at panera.
I've been camp counseling already- and I learned a lot.
Thought a lot.
Realized even more.

I'll share that with you when I have more time.

but for now it's time to go experience the world a bit.
I'll have some more writing done mid week and put that up.
If you're reading this... Thanks it means a lot


And if you could- check out postsecret.com and twloha.com
and a book called perks of being a wallflower.

they'll change your life.

Shipwreck

Hours bleed into days as my surroundings slowly fade to black. The radio whispers, in its white noise language, it's siren song. It draws me in and throws me back to the sea who takes me while others would not. The water fills my mouth, my lungs, suffocating me in the most pleasant way- weighing me down as I sink to the bottom and wait for someone to pull me up. The rescue is never made, but I'm content with that as I watch the sparkling waves above me. The fish kiss at my skin and pick at my bones until I am nothing more than an empty vessel with eyes. I am the ship at the bottom of the sea- harboring wretched souls as if they were my own. They are, aren't they? Many years into the future I am found- put on display as if some miracle, some object to take pride in. No amount of polish will remove the rust from my bones, no amount of oil will cease the creaking of my lungs. I am a sunken ship. No more, no less.

Shipwreck

Hours bleed into days as my surroundings slowly fade to black. The radio whispers, in its white noise language, it's siren song. It draws me in and throws me back to the sea who takes me while others would not. The water fills my mouth, my lungs, suffocating me in the most pleasant way- weighing me down as I sink to the bottom and wait for someone to pull me up. The rescue is never made, but I'm content with that as I watch the sparkling waves above me. The fish kiss at my skin and pick at my bones until I am nothing more than an empty vessel with eyes. I am the ship at the bottom of the sea- harboring wretched souls as if they were my own. They are, aren't they? Many years into the future I am found- put on display as if some miracle, some object to take pride in. No amount of polish will remove the rust from my bones, no amount of oil will cease the creaking of my lungs. I am a sunken ship. No more, no less.

conquest.

Reminiscent of graceful body movements expressed in a single step, shadows danced against the walls. The wood appeared scorched as if the passion that burned in those eyes had set fire to the room. And, in fact, it had. Footsteps echoed through the hall as I came to the door. No lights to guide. No sleep for the wicked after all. Glory, glory. What had once been so magnificent and grand was now just a shell of its former self. A metaphor to suit us all. The stained glass above the windows filtered little moonlight, and what light managed to break through the dust appeared blood red. How fitting. Arms outstretched, palms facing the sky, he appeared to be the archangel, switched sides. Holy Mary, mother of God, pray for us sinners now and at the hour of our death. Amen. A thin line was walked, in the shape of a circle, each of us remaining on opposite sides. Choose life, choose death. Think carefully, listen well- the decision is critical. The fire calls all those who are weak and vulnerable. Those who have lost hope. The light does the same. He came to claim. I came to conquer. Mercy me. Fight of fights, king of kings. No end is in sight.

The call to action came earlier than I expected.

You must find her. Claim her. Before it is too late.

My head snapped up. My senses heightened as adrenaline rushed through my earth-bound body. Every muscle within me tensed, ready to take flight. The call could have only meant one thing. He was back. Damien was back here on Earth ready to, as Julius Cesar once said, “Seize the day.”

He had to be stopped.

I had to find her before he was able to.

I had to save the world.

How could one girl’s fate rule the fate of the world? A prophecy long ago read that one day, unbeknownst to mere mortals, a clash would ensue. A struggle between light and dark. For good. For evil. For the one person who held the unrealized potential to be a saint, or Lucifer himself. A wildly protective sense, deeply embedded, would awaken when the time came.
The time had come. She was near.

I could almost taste it.

I leaped and bounded through the city. I got closer, I got farther. The sense came, the sense went. Then suddenly, oh so suddenly, I was over-powered by the strength of it. Here. She was here in the town square. Stopping abruptly in my tracks, I turned my head slowly to the left and then slowly to the right. Where was she? How would I know? As panic rose high in me, tightening my gut, the voice spoke.
Tristan. Breathe. Close your eyes. When you open them again, who she is will become apparent.

Doing as I was directed, a wave of serenity washed over me. Slowly opening my eyes, I sought her out. Like a beacon, her very presence drew me in. A slight, petite girl with olive skin stood where my eyes had come to rest. As she shook her jet black hair it seemed as if a supernatural aura undulated forth. Lost in awe, I did not realize that he was there. Damien, that is. He was watching too. Lying in wait, ready to pounce.

The girl shifted uneasily from foot to foot. As if she knew she was being watched- an impossible feat as we did not make ourselves known to the naked eye. Suddenly, as if driven by an inner force deep within, she became animated. Shoving through clusters of unsuspecting people, she rushed toward her destination. My eyes locked briefly with Damien’s. The race was on.

As if in a frenzy, she tore through the winding alleyways and streets. Every foot fall was like the ticking of a clock. Rhythmic and bringing her ever closer to the fate that awaited her. Tick. Tick. Tick. Then without warning, boom. She stopped. Neither Damien nor I had gained an advantage on the other in reaching her, so we were both there to witness her throw open the doors to an forlorn, abandoned cathedral and step inside.

Pews no longer formed neat rows, as they had long since been removed, and left the wooden floor bare. The girl walked to the center of the room slowly. Lifting her face toward the ceiling, the blood red light that filtered through the stained glass threw shadows across her features. Letting out a guttural scream, she collapsed in a heap. Looking at Damien, seeing the hunger that manifested in his eyes for this one soul, I knew it was time to begin.

“The world! The WORLD, Tristan! Don’t you see? This could all be mine… It could be ours if you were willing to help!”

“Never,” I spat out with disgust.

“Have it your way. I’m still going to get the girl,” he said with a sneer.
Rage became my only expressible emotion. In an instant, I closed the space that separated us and came face to face with this monster. His hair, a bright platinum blonde, seemed to glow as if he had once had in his possession a halo. For him, breathing came in quick, shallow bursts. His lithe body, which held more strength than was apparent, trembled. I was so caught up in examining the depths of his eyes, two smoldering black coals, that when he swung, I was not quite sure. I only knew that I was caught off guard. Stumbling backwards, I struggled to keep my balance. Blow two. Three. Four. More. I had waited so long for this. I had prepared. Why could I not fight?

Damien’s laughter rang out and reverberated from the wood paneling of the walls. “Don’t you see? You never had a chance.” My eyes were slipping shut. I could not hold on much longer. As he raised his hands to the sky, the blood-red light seemed to engulf him. “I have won,” he said. “Can’t you see it? I have won.” With that, he tenderly picked up the young girl and stood her upright then allowed his astral self to merge with her. She stood unsteady for a moment, composed herself, and opened her eyes. The two dark chocolate orbs that had once been behind her eyelids were no long there, traded instead for a dark maroon color. With each step she gained closer to the door, my consciousness slipped that much further.

“You have not won. This is not the end,“ I said in a weak voice.

With a smirk adorning her features, she simply asked in Damien's smooth. low voice, “Why? Are you not laying there, immobile in your defeat? Are you not the one who took hit after hit- unable to save her? Unable to save yourself? Look at what has become of you, oh savior.” A bitterness, a mocking tone, colored the rise and fall of his voice.

As the light faded and the shapes around me blurred, I stated with conviction, “You know it is not over. This is not the end."

My head swimming, I could barely make out the peals of laughter coming from the girl. From Damien. Growing increasingly hysterical until a sudden cessation. Time seemed interminable. I could see nothing. Could feel nothing. Could hear nothing other than white noise. Was this it? Were the words I had spoken so certainly... false? Through the static that permeated the air around me, words came forth, words were formed. Tristan, get up. Do not accept defeat so easily. Damien is weaker than he thinks in this moment. He believes you to be conquered. This is not so. You still possess a yearning to save her. You can save her. This is not defeat. I slowly opened my eyes. Slowly now, for he believes he is the victor. You can catch him unaware- for as long as he believes you are to exist no longer, his walls have fallen. He is defenseless. He feels safe. He is no longer having to fight for what he wants.

The girl (who was really Damien) moved slowly towards the door- head held high in triumph. Summoning all of my strength, I quietly rose to stand. It was only a matter of seconds before I had him in my grasp. Taken completely bye surprise, Damien’s knee-jerk reaction was to vacate his current hose. That was all I needed. As he left her body, the girl slumped down, unconscious. Quickly, I made the sign of the cross over her and opened a vial of holy water. Sprinkling it lightly on her, I began to recite the Lord’s prayer. It was then Damien had realized his mistake. As his astral self materialized, a shrill, hellish scream was emitted from his vocal chords. He knew he had lost, for he could not enter a blessed body. Now it was I who sneered.

“Damien, haven’t you learned already you cannot win? Evil will never prevail over what is good, right, and just! You will never win. As long as I am here, you shall never win.” A shrieking, creaking, groaning sound filled the air as did the smell of brimstone. In a burst of fire, Damien was engulfed. He had retreated. I had won. For now. I knew more wars lay ahead of me, but it mattered not. For as had been the case many times before, good triumphed- hope in humanity was not lost.

Well now I know

I've felt disconnected as of late.
My friends are dissipating, and making no effort to keep the contact they claim they want. Then again, neither am I.
It just... hurts.
It's spring break and i'll be sitting at home alone when i'm not working. I don't know what my "friends" are doing. They don't tell me. They don't ask me to come along.
Do i even have friends anymore?
Or just acquaintances?

I'm unsure if spring break will be the break i need.
We'll just have to see.
I'm so freaking tired of being tired all the time...

1/3/09

The small room smelled of piss and spilled liquor, as most hostels do. Knees curled to chest, I rocked back and forth. This motion had become routine. I slept very little, fearing the images that I knew waited behind my heavy lids. Each second seemed to drag on for eons. Each "click" of the clock hand a sonic boom. A lone candle flickered, throwing shadows- shadows that surely contained my demons- across the damp, water-stained walls. A slight rapping at the door broke my trance momentarily. Stumbling across the floor I reached out for the handle. It creaked open slightly, a certain slant of light falling sharply across the floor. Vision blurred, I hardly noticed how fast the floor was coming up to meet me. The only thing I really noticed was the absence of a dull thud. I saved that thought for later as unconsciousness took over.

Breathe in, breathe out. The air was like fire to my lungs. Unmerciful, unyielding, unstoppable. My fists were clenched tightly and my body continuously shook in small tremors. The sounds of voices filled my head- soft, alluring, deceiving. My eyes snapped open and a terrifying scream tore from my lips. My demons were back again. They could not be drowned no matter how hard or how often I tried. All at once you were there, arms wrapped tight around me to keep me in my skin, lips to my ear assuring me it was all over now. "Lies!" I screamed. "How can I be okay?" I sobbed. "Please, just don't go." I whispered. And you didn't. You just lay there with me, soaking into my pores. The dark slowly receded and the sunrise took its place. Hues of yellow, pink and orange warmed up the small room. Still you lay there stroking my hair and whispering sweet lullabies into my ear. I smiled to myself. I had no past. No Present. No future. I just was. I turned to look at you. You who had the same smile playing across his features. That smile, however, soon faded and was replaced by a look of pure surprise, pure amazement, pure awe. I watched your eyes as they followed the curves of my body. Your hand began to trace delicately across my skin, as if you were sure I was merely an apparition. My eyes looked to the trail your fingers were tracing and soon I too was filled with amazement. For wounds broke violently across my skin in an effort to tear me apart. But wherever your hand touched, they were erased and my skin was left pristine and perfect. I never thought it was possible but here it was- a miracle before my very eyes.

A miracle or an illusion? Simply another delusion? My mind had given fancy to those as of late. Hallucinations. How did I know you're real? How did I know I'm real? As the thought weaved itself in and out through my cerebral cortex, I could feel it! A million little worms, a static whisper manifesting itself in the different lobes partitioned by scientists. Frontal lobe. My reasoning is shot. My emotions non existent. All logic and problem solving gone. Parietal lobe. My orientation flickers and goes out like a birthday candle. I no longer recognize most stimuli. My perception of those stimuli i do recognize is altered. Occipital lobe. My vision is gone. I see nothing. Temporal lobe. All those memories are gone. Not just the bad ones, the ones that make my skin crawl, the ones that make me grit my teeth, but the good ones as well. Our first kiss? Never happened. Your face? Who the hell are you? I can feel the shaking and I braced myself against it. A sharp intake of air and I'm brought back. Another dream. Another panic attack. The look of wonder replaced by creases and lines in your face. This is the look of concern. You pressed your lips lightly to mine seeking some way to comfort me, and i retaliated feverishly. I had to have you. I needed you. Only you could make the panic leave my bones without even a fleeting glance back.



(this is not done.)

10/26/08

The night closes in, creeping up in unexpected ways allowing no chance to escape until dawn. Eyelids grow heavy, thoughts grow strong. I can't sleep the way I used to. Could you look me in the eyes and tell me I was wrong? This conversation has no substance, no face. The sly smile contorts your face in a way that does not suit you. Dear God, DEAR GOD. Who shall be the savior now?

10/7/08

Breaths fill a hollow frame, barely sufficient to support the heartbeat that weakens by the minute. Skin slowly rips apart, and a small, thin crack appears right down the middle. Growing and growing until a chasm breaks open and thoughts undulate forth, producing a scream that is only heard by the eyes. Colors of rage explode across planes of vision. The creaking of breaking bones matches the clamor of others condemned to the same fate. Finger nails tear into muscle, into skin- an anodyne to make one stoic. A lacuna is formed, a heart now non-existent, and option after option failing to take it's place. Where's the antidote so badly needed? The pain is not stopping and I fear my resolve to fight is weakening. Stitches and sutures to close the gap, splints to set the bones, tape to cover the screams. As eyes are glued shut, it is realized that this doctor is not healing, much less a doctor at all. Rather an angel of death in disguise, preparing for a funeral pyre.

9/11/08

Eyes locked and fingers entwined, we began to dance. Curiosities were piqued, and a look not unlike fear came to rest in two sets of eyes. The music increased it's speed as did our feet. The tango is a difficult dance, but we knew it well. Breath matched breath, heart beat to heart beat. Cheek to cheek and lips to ear, you whispered these seemingly magical words. I resisted, twirling in the opposite direction. You caught me just as you said you would. For a moment doubt engulfed me. Maybe you weren't like the others. In the next instant the doubt was erased as you momentarily faced the opposite direction. Upon turning around you held your hands out to me- a gift in place of air and empty space. The gift was still beating, still feeling. With a smile and a hole in your chest, you coyly said "This is for you. Keep it." A genuine curiosity overtaking me, I took it from your hands and examined thoroughly the heart taken from your chest. I looked into your sparkling eyes and down again. When I could finally make my eyes meet yours once more, I noticed that you were cupping something gently in your hands and an empty space existed in my chest where flesh and bone one was. "Don't worry," you said. "I'll be careful with it. Your heart is in safe hands."
And with that, the whole world was aflame.

8/14/08

Shadows danced against the walls reminiscent of graceful body movents expressed in a single step. The wood appeared scorched as if the passion that burned in those eyes had set fire to the room. And in fact it did. Footsteps echoed through the hall as I came to the door. No lights to guide. No sleep for the wicked afterall. Glory, glory. What had once been so magnificent and grand, was now just a shell of it's former life. A metaphor to suit us all. The stained glass above the windows filtered little moonlight, and what light managed to break through the dust appeared blood red. How fitting. Arms outstretched, and palms facing the sky, you appeared to be the archangel, switched sides. Holy Mary, mother of God, pray for us sinners now and at the hour of our death. Amen. A thin line was walked, in the shape of a circle, each of us remaining on opposite sides. Choose life, choose death. Think carefully, listen well- this is a critical decision. The fire calls all those who are weak and vulnerable. Those who have lost hope. The light does the same. You came to claim. I came to conquer. Mercy me. Fight of fights, king of kings. No end is in sight.

7/17/08

My step falters as my vision blurs. The ground is no longer discernible from the sky, the asphalt (I can feel how it burns the soles of my feet) crumbles beneath me as my resolve in this situation surely gives way. Thick armor is no longer an option as I become more vulnerable and more susceptible to attack. I can feel a scream boiling in my throat, melting my words as they come out of this pen in a thin line of blood. "This seems familiar," I think to myself as I reach behind me to pull this knife from my back. What a coincidence. I reach to cover the sting emanating from my neck, near my jugular, only to find your fangs buried deep. Losing blood, losing sleep- it all feels the same these days. My eyes flutter, my heart skips a beat, then
black.
I hear your movements, and all the words you whisper as I am hidden away in your closet. You're sure I'm dead (or hopefully severely wounded) and no remorse comes forth from your lips. Time passes and I can feel your sanity slip along with your sobriety. It's better this way you say, as you tie the strings to my wrists and legs. Movement for the otherwise incapacitated, you explain. You hang me high upon a shelf, another marionette for your collection, with a solemn face. Devoid of any sign of life. Turning, you pull another knife from your belt and head for the door, as the night is still young. You stop short of the door to check your reflection in a dirty mirror. Your step falters, your legs give way, your hear skips a beat. You collapse and lay sprawled on the floor. Face down. How surprising. I would have guessed you would have known to fall backwards. But then again you've always shoved the knife deeper without purpose.

6/22/08

The air was the color of tangerines. It left your skin sticky and sweet with the taste of morning dew and burning ash. A cigarette in hand, your face was obscured by smoke. The hair on your head had been formed by the golden rays of the sun and the wisps of the wind that swayed the grass and the trees. A care did not reside here. Inhibitions left and went elsewhere along with your sobriety. The freckles on your skin felt like home. Tracing the shapes they make left one with a sense of renewal, wonderment, peace. The dark covered the demands that were made purely from the laguage of our bodies. Whisper met whisper in a clash that was more powerful than any apocolypse. Electricity rushed through the air lighting up the sky with a million magnificent colors. Breath seemed to escape the lungs as if it were afraid to stay there, leaving one gasping for more. Your lips formed the shape of words but nothing was coherent. Nothing needed words, or even an explanation. Everything just was. Moment turned into moment, day into day, escaping time's firm grasp. Summer quickly came to pass without anyone noticing how fast the time had gone, thinking that this would last forever. But all things do end. You peeled off you freckles, seeing no use in them any longer, and instead put your suffocating suit and tie back on. Your voice no longer resmebled the cool night air, but had somehow become tighter and more restricted by your throat. Your eyes, which seemed such a brilliant shade of blue by moonlight, soon appeared to be gray and glazed instead. Your inhibitions came back making it seem like every step you took was restrained. Maybe even robotic. Moving not by choice, not freely, but as if every thing you did had been chosen by someone else. The things you remembered of the summer air you breathed were only vague. Fuzzy around the edges and faded like the picture that was kept in your nightstand drawer. It means nothing much to you anymore, but at the time it meant everything and defined "summer". Thoughts were pushed aside, forcing your mind to come back and live in a slightly harsher reality. The vibrant colors that made up sky turned to black and white. Brief reminiscing left you nostalgic, remembering how much potential life held. But for now you peel your summer skin.

6/18/08

I remember the times when we would talk of what would happen when the world ended. It all seemed such a dream then. But things change. Oh, how they change.

Things went from serene to a state of complete and utter turmoil within a matter of hours. Maybe the hours were enough to form days. But no one was paying attention to the count. During the present days, one slips easily into the other unsure of where it's loyalties lie, blurring the boundary line so much to the point where one cannot tell when it has been crossed.

In a darkened room or decrepid alley, the demons huddle and wait. In a perfect instance they spring from the shadows and spring to life, taking life with them as they move in for the kill and prepare to flee back to the shadows.

There is no sudden flash of light granted by a gaurdian angel to bring you back to reality. There are no angels at all. Only the demons we harbor. Evil is inherent in each of us.

Footfalls are heard echoing against the walls, painting a picture that threatens to make your heart stop. The rythmic noise ceases and is replaced by the sound of frantic running.

It's okay, you can't save them all.

5/28/08

I heard the rushed, hused tones seeping through the wall and resonating within. I stared at a crack in the wall that matched the crack in your voice. I was sure that the water that had stained and caused the paint to peel in that darkened corner was brought on by tears that had floated on up from my cheeks and the corners of my eyes. But then I realized it would only be possible if I was floating too.

The floorboards sighed ever so slightly as you made your way across the room to ask her to dance. The hushed tones now turned into screams, debating my fate the entire time.

The clock seemed to stop dead. Move in reverse even. Time did the same. Ignoring all rules and all common sense. I found myself stuck in a near continuous flashback.

It was never more noble to fight than now, but when the call comes it is vehemently denied because "right now" whets the appetite. Though it is known that right now will linger only a moment longer. But at the moment, it's all that's to be had. So presently it's enough. It has to be.

5/18/08

5/12/08

5/7/08

Oh dear god,

you'

ve a lovely face.
I say
that with blurred vision
slurred words
but a truth
that does not
escape
the mind that follows
the heart that
wastes
oh how wasted
can you get
before you fall down
before you regret
oh how high
must you be
until you can float
and finally
see
what lies down below
in a beatiful disaster
till you find what you've
been chasing
after.



Oh dear god, you've a lovely face.

5/1/08

There is this place between wakefulness and sleep.

A place where you can acheive certain kinds of thought where you normally would not be able to.

A place where thoughts become clearer, yet hazy.

You're peaceful, yet there is a sense of urgency driving what you do and say.

Don't lose the moment.

For once, get so caught up in it that you do not heed the warning your mind screams out. Get lost in the oxytocin. Get lost in the adrenaline. Get lost in the sleep that produces these chemicals.

Lately, I've been having odd dreams.

I never dream.

4/22/08

We've got a life. A life? A life.

Right in front of us.

Laid out, not perfectly, but coherently enough to understand where there's deviations in the different paths.

A life.

Raise hell.

In all the flashing lights, the blurred vision, the slurred speech, we forget to realize that these years are fast approaching the end.

There is no time like now to release you inhibitions and scream against the wind.

Your frustrations, angers, fears.

Once they're all gone, who will you be?

The path is winding and winding.

Now or never.

Take a fucking risk and live.

Bathe in the bright colors and Aurora Lights.

There is no time like tonight.

Words they will develop and churn in your head.

SAY THEM.

If you risk nothing, you risk even more.

For what is a life, if not lived without risk? Is it a life at all?

Do not fear.

The fragile hours of early morning between dusk and dawn will mask any hesitations or nervousness.

Let the words pour without second thoughts.

Consequences? Imagine they simply do not exist.

Do you want to live?

Or do you simply want to remember what it was like to feel alive?

I challenge you.

Tell someone your true thoughts.

Like somone? Say it even if you fear they will reject you, or you believe certain circumstances stand in the way. You will regret never saying anything if you don't.

Hate someone? Let them know. Somewhat nicely of course. Even if you fear your ass will get handed to you.

Sneak out. Fuck the rules. Drive to a place where you know infinite joy. Windows down, music loud.

Live.

Live this life here and now.

There's more possibilities than you know, but you may never discover the true extent of what you could do if you don't take the initiative.

4/18/08

"You must be strong now. You must never give up. And when people make you cry and you are afraid of the dark, don't forget the light is always there."

Hope. A light that shines ever so faintly in the mind's eye when you think that darkness is the only thing exists.
It is your pupeteer when you feel you can no longer get out of bed in the morning.
It moves, you. Drives you.
In the hungry, the starving, it replaces the need for food.
You can always become full while eating, but the appetite for hope is insatiable.
It escapes the boundaries of normal, everyday joy.
When you have hope... well, you have it all.
Today it seems easier to find that hope.
Thank you dear friends.
Thank you.

4/14/08

"Man seeks to escape himself in myth, and does so by any means at his disposal. Drugs, alcohol, or lies. Unable to withdraw into himself, he diguises himself. Lies and inaccuracy give him a few moments of comfort."


Take a breath out.
Inhale deeply.
Now it's time to come up.
The sensation, the sensation.
Sure, it burns but who gives a fuck?
It's worth it for the plateau.
Alive.
Your heart is beating faster now than you ever dreamed possible.
You feel nothing.

You feel nothing.

Nothing can be compared to how you look at things now.
New eyes.
Eyes that refuse to settle, refuse to shut.
But that's okay.
The city never sleeps, so neither will I.
Focus.
You can do things you never dreamed possible.
Mundane, maybe even somewhat diffucult tasks, are a breeze.
And your fucking heart!

Oh! How it races!

There is no feeling like this.
Until the comedown.
Your heart.

Oh , how it won't slow down.

Your hands.

Oh, how they will not stop shaking.

Your head.

Oh, how it will not stop pounding.

Your body.

Oh, how it begs for sleep.

The want.
Cycle, cycle, cycle.


But oh, it's becoming unstoppable.

3/31/08

I pass light after city light.
There are no stars here.
The streetlamps and stop lights suffice.

As night goes even closer to sunrise, words are whispered.
A muttering of breath.
Your ears may not percieve them as coherent,
but nonetheless you know what they mean.
The static fills my limbs and my lungs scream for air.

Even now.
Even here.

Now’s the time to step up.
Scream your intentions, your truth, your mind.
And you’ll be more free than you could have ever imagined.
Words play and dance behind closed lips.
Let them go under the intimate cover of night.
For in your silence, you could lose it all
and I’m calling you out ever so loudly.

3/26/08

"Even if we never talk again after tonight, please know that I am forever changed because of who you are and what you mean to me."


Breathe out, breathe in.
Take in the scenery around you. Every minute detail.
The rush of the air as it blows past you though your window.
The sound of the music as the heartfelt lyrics soothe you.
The feeling of being infinite, yet so close to death at the same time.
This is nothing short of perfection.
Remember how it feels.
Breathe out, breathe in.

And roll.

[Sleep is pulling my eyelids shut. Be my ticket out.]

3/21/08

This is one of those times where it would be really nice to have someone here to give me a huge hug, a kiss on the forehead, and a whisper in my ear telling me everything is going to be okay.
Unfortuneately, I know that has very little chance of happening.

"He had a sensation of anxiety and shame, a sensitivity acute beyond usefulness, as if the nervous system, flayed of its old hide of social usage, must record every touch of pain."

Today started out being pretty good.
I got the chance to sleep in, which rarely happens anymore, and the gigantic fight I had with my mom (which pushed me to the point of nearly moving out) had blown over, and the sun was shining outside.
Yeah, I know, cheesey.
But whatever.

But then earlier tonight, I was sitting and thinking about certain things. The pit of my stomach started to twist and turn. It felt like something bad was either going on with someone i know, or something really bad was gonna happen soon.
I am rarely wrong on those hunches.

Well, that feeling kept growing and growing.The knot in my stomach got bigger and bigger rather quickly. My heart was racing by this point.
A few more minutes pass, and my chest in uncomfortably tight. It was getting really hard to breathe or even think straight.

At the moment, I was in the process of looking up pictures and quotes so I could get motivated to write.
It wasn’t gonna happen.
I pretty much slammed the screen on the computer down, tossed it onto the arm of the couch, and proceeded to curl up in the fetal position.
I couldn’t think of anything besides "Oh my god. What’s happening? Why can’t I fucking breathe?"
Then the tears came.
Salty, wet, and warm, they rolled across my cheecks.
I didn’t know what was going on.
It was so hard to explain why I felt like this.
I tried to describe it and I came up short for words.
All I could say was "I was stressed. About everything. It feels like everyone hates me and everyone’s leaving."
And that really was what it has felt like.
I can’t tell you why. And I wish I could.
More minutes passed. And it should have been over with. But it wasn’t.
I still couldn’t breathe, couldn’t get enough air.
So I decided to take a walk.
Without telling anyone where I was going (The only one up at... 12:45? was my brother anyway.) I walked out the door and up the street to the park. Once there, I just sat. I couldn’t think. Nor did I want to.
Half an our later I ended up back home.


Since then, I have been trying so hard to keep my cool.
Trying so hard to keep it together.
And I really don’t know what to do.
I’m still feeling the after-effects.
And I’m quite frankly scared shitless.

---------------
This is a perilous road we walk.
We are treading a thin line.
You made it look so easy.

3/17/08

I am completely at a loss for words
Static rages inside my every limb.
Clouded mind.
Unable to think clearly.
Hardly capable of thought at all.
Letting what little of my mind i have left take hold, i submit myself to it’s trickery.
Unrestrained.
Undecipherable.
Fluid movements.
Shaking fingertips.
Broken words.
Awkward silence.
Without silence at all.
Breathe in.
Breathe out.

3/10/08

"And it is not always good to be healed in body. Nor is it always evil to die in battle, even in bitter pain. Were I permitted, in this dark hour I would choose the latter."

Things have changed. Dramatically. From day to day, I never know what is coming. But lately I have taken things in stride. I have acquired that "who gives a shit" attitude.
The truth of the matter is: it scares me.
Even the people who seem to have the strongest exterior can crumble under the slightest upset.
You would never know it to look at them.
But if you really look, then you would see the turmoil.
The devil and God are raging inside me.
In American History, we recently discussed the term "No Man's Land"
No man's land is the dangerous battlefield area between trenches in World War One. Land often exchanged hands, each side trying to gain the most territory. Men were forced to stay in the trenches for weeks and even months on end. They lived in these trenches with their fallen comrades. They didn't dare risk burying the dead for fear of being killed.
In an offbeat sort of way, you could say that my mind has become somewhat of a trench warfare, no man's land type of thing.
In the trenches, are the thoughts, the people that I cannot let go of for fear that I may be killed, or greatly wounded once I let go of them.
Devastating.
Also in the trenches are the people who I am fighting for.
I am willing to give life and limb to save them.
And I hope they know who they are.
Onto the concept of my mind being no man's land.
I have already stated that in no mans's land, territory exchanges hands- each side fighting to keep a hold of what they have and gain as much as possible.
My thoughts and opinions are each duking it out among one another. Each fighting to gain the most ground and win. Each fighting to be voiced and to get out.
At this point however, it has become a stalemate.
Neither side is winning.
Neither is losing.
And it could be the death of me.
Unless an epic change occurs.
Soon.

"Americans have a special horror of giving up control, of letting things happen in their own way without interference. They would like to jump down into their stomachs and digest the food and shovel the shit out."

2/14/08

Nightfall makes itself obvious in just a few small hours. In just a short amount of time, the potential to change the lives of others and your own life is great.
Powerful in words, powerful in feeling something is shifting.
You are learning more about the world and it's ways than you ever dreamed possible.
People are not always who you expect, and secrets are kept hidden from those who matter most to us.
The night slowly turns into dawn.
the dusk produces truths that hang poignant in the air.
Wrapped inside a blanket each person, in his or her own time,
have revealed to them and to the world
the chains that have kept them bound, the chains that have weighed them down.
What has made them who they are.
Their secrets, their demons.
And when they are finally shared, finally recognized and realized, that's the time when you can drop everything. Drop everything and realize how heavy the burden that you have carried all this time really is.
That is the time when you can attain what has seemed so far from reach. You can finally gain the love of yourself.
And that is what we were searching for this whole time.

2/8/08

1/25/08

The lights pass over my eyelids and under my skin. The slightest flutter of movement sends my heart racing. Exhillarating. Absolutely invigorating.

The sun has gone down many hours ago, but my ever so active mind refuses to let me slip under into the waiting abyss of sleep without dreams.

Thoughts burst across planes of consciousness in an array of colors. Some are more vivid than others, some have more meaning, and some simply blend into eachother creating a 53 car pile-up within my mind.

I know there is something.. someone outside my doorstep waiting for me, but I grow impatient. I don't know what opprotunity I'm waiting for but it's not coming soon enough. I need some momentum. A push in the right direction to get things started. Only time will tell if I will be courageous enough to say "Fuck it. I choose dare." and run across lanes filled with rush hour traffic, or if some one will need to push me. Opprotunity does not come soon enough.

12/29/07

Twist and turn. In one second I am clinging on tightly afraid to show any sign of vulnerability. In the next second everything has gone up in smoke.

"Burning bridges is a form of suicide."

If that is true then I am killing myself ever so slowly. For surely I have been pushing people away and cutting the ties that bind. Why else would certain people be gone?

The winter has set in. Deep within my bones I can feel the chill of the snow, the ice. I find myself looking in the mirror more and more frequently wondering where the girl that used to be so happy, so full of life, went. She has been replaced with the person you talk to most of the time. The girl who has terrible mood swings. The girl who has pushed her family away and has led them to believe she hates them. The girl who is keeping many secrets.

As I sit here wishing I had someone I could sit and share every thought with (though truthfully there is only one person with whom I think I will be able to do that) I am constantly wondering where in the world I went wrong. I am brought back to a point in January. That's when I began this slow decline.

I was fine for a while that month. I thought It would be okay. I didn't want to repeat what had happened around the same time the previous year. But January turned into February. Fears became reality. Last resorts turned into things that brought comfort.

The path had split somewhere along the way. For some godforsaken reason I had chosen to take a path into desolate and fearful lands. Where even the slightest upset in the waters will cause your boat to capsize and sink. The depths of your own mind take you prisoner and the weight of your thoughts suffocate you.

I cannot find my way back.

I am not sure I will be able to even with help.

A chagrin mood has followed me this night. I cannot shake it. I must simply let it run it's course.

But the past, coupled with events from the present, make it so hard to forget. Hard to forgive. Hard to even breathe.

Emotion takes hold at every turn.

I take it by the hand, along with it's sharp witted accomplice, and dance into a deadly game of Russian Roulette.

12/27/07

We are ever so fragile. Ever so delicate.
Ashes, ashes- we all fall down.
In a race to the finish, no one wins. We all meet the same fate.
I see so many people try to be something, someone, that they are not. What for? You should not live to impress others. If some one is in your life, it should be because they like you for who you are.
When you are out only to gain acceptance, to fit in, you lose sight of yourself. You inadvertantly become only what others want you to be. You are no longer yourself anymore, but a cheap novelty.
Tell me- Was it worth it?

12/23/07

Take my hand. The slow spinning movents make my heart pound fiercely against my chest. My vision is limited an blurred ever so slightly around the edges. My fingers are no longer fingers, but lines of static. My mouth is incapable of speech.

But I can show you the world.

The world I come from, the world I live in. I see things in a different way than you, and you see things in a different way that I cannot begin to imagine. Take my hand, I will take yours and we can show eachother what it is like to live.

Someday, I am sure, it will be so easy to understand all of this.

But for now, let's dance in wistful heat. Forget the past, forget the future. Just live. Just hope. Just dream. Just be.

12/11/07

Crash.

Hard.

Riddle me this, dear friend. Have you ever once in your life reached out to touch infinity?

You reach. You constantly reach. The need for more and more never ebbing, never straying. It stays strong. It leads, you follow. Never ending.

It's a fucking monster.

Silouhetted against nights filled with such potential, the dawn keeps at bay daring not to destroy the precious hours that encase memories like precious gemstones. Feelings that are never to be forgotten. Try as you may. They will not conset to leaving.

Monster.

More.

Not enough.

Still more.

Gone yet?

No.

Not even close.

More.

More.

More.

Does it ever stop?

Of course not. It's a fucking monster.

Is it?

Of course.

Are you sure?

No.

Why not?

Because some part of me is the monster.

11/22/07

ifeless words speak to me poured out from broken lips. From a spirit that was once as bright as a sunrise against the Atlantic sky. They mean nothing to me. They mean nothing apart from eachother, but when they are provocatively strung together they create a symphony that is no match even for the world's finest orchestra. Yet they are still lifeless. They fall upon deaf ears. The emotion that colors them is not seen for it is borne upon blind eyes that refuse to see the truth.

I lost you so long ago.

Just as Fall is delicately slipping into Winter, you are slipping through my fingers quicker than I can begin to grasp what I had fought so hard for. Or at least I thought I was fighting.

In the back of my mind, I always knew that it was a losing battle. But I kept fighting nonetheless. It gave me some sense of purpose.

The moon filters ever so slightly through the shades on my window in between the hours of twilight and dawn.

I sigh to myself.

It gets easier. No it doesn't. But it has to. It's not.

The argument begins to rage inside my head for the millionth time.

I lay back on my pillow, fragments of tears escaping from clenched eyes, and give into the overwhelming sensation that I am on my own.

You are born not knowing what you are going into and you die not knowing what you are going into. What about the moments in between? What happens when you are lost? When you don't know what lies ahead, and what lies behind you is barely discernable. What do you do then?

11/14/07

When something is left out in the cold too long, it will begin to freeze after a certain ammount of time. Unresponsive, unyielding.

Frankly, I have ceased to give a shit anymore.

It's not that I don't want to care, but it's been so long since someone has reciprocated that caring feeling that I seem to have simply forgotten how to care anymore.

The Winter is setting in and the ice shows no signs of meliting. The almost moments that were broken have solidified the ice even farther.

Where have you been?

I am searching for a dream that is quickly retreating.

I don't want to be lost to the cold, to the ice, to the snow and winter.

For I fear that there is nothing stopping that fate from envoloping me wholly.

11/13/07

As I sat driving in my car after an afternoon outing, listening to some Coldplay, I thought to myself.

Something has got to give.

After all of this, my life could get worse. Or it could get better. It all depends on the events that happen within the next few weeks.

I have had quite a bit on my mind lately. Thoughs are becoming incoherent and inseperable. I cannot decipher one from the next. Except one.

"Get out"

Get out of where?

Iowa.

In a year and a half's time, it will be time for me to leave all that I know and go out to face the world. It's a scary thought. But I find the idea more comforting than usual.

Situations.

There are certain situations that have been repeated over and over with different people. Mistrust. Lies. I think it's time that someone shows me that it doesn't have to be like this and that all guys are not the same. Because I think I am starting to lose hope.

I need to find a place where I can finally rest my feet. I am weary. I no longer am willing to fight for some things. I have come to the realization that I cannot control every aspect of my life.

For once I am ok with that.

But for now, I need to rest.

I need to reflect.

I need to see clearly.

11/12/07

"When we speak the word ''life',' it must be understood we are not referring to life as we know it from its surface of fact, but to that fragile, fluctuating center which forms never reach."

This particular quote gave me quite a bit to think about tonight.

We are fragile.

Our life is fragile.

I think what this quote is trying to say is that... We will never know the meaning of life nor will we fully understand what our purpose is. Yet day after day we must hold our lives up on a pedestal as sacred things. Things to be cherished. Yet we all take these daily existences that we have been granted as cognitive beings and we don't fully appreciate them.

Subject change.

Something I have been thinking about.

The eyes. They hold within them the lies we do not wish to believe and the truths that we do not want to accept. They say things that are yearning to be said but yet remain unspoken for various reasons. They have the power to destroy in once instance. Destroy trust. Destroy faith.

Yet we will always get back up. We will endure.

"There is a strength of a quiet endurance as significant of courage as the most daring feats of prowess"

Sunrises are found abundantly in California. So are fresh starts and new beginnings. Yet I am not in California. No, dear sirs, I am in Iowa. Yet I am yearning for a change of pace. I am yearning for something new. Something exciting. I want to make a fresh start. I am tired of the things I am regretting. I am growing weary of the wieght that has been placed on my mind because of these regrets.

Something new.

That's it.

I need a change.

A change of scenery.

Or maybe someone needs to be that fresh kick in the ass that I need.

My motivation.

Inspiration.

I think I want to move to California.

huh.

10/30/07

The dark.

It has such power over a person.

It is the unknown.

It makes it so that you cannot see what lies ahead.

You can only think of what lies behind you, for you have already experienced it.

For some, the past is something that is better left under that veil of darkness.

For some, the past was enjoyable.

But right now we are in the present.

We are living even if it seems to be a meager existence, doing and feeling just enough to get by.

But we are ALIVE.

Do not give up now.

Give up, and you're giving up on everyone around you.

Weren't you the one who told me it would get better?

Slowly.. it has somewhat.

Though those nightmares plague me whenever I shut my eyes, though those thoughts haunt me during my wakin hours... it has gotten somewhat better.

And it will get better for you.

You hear it way to often.

It's meaning has become garbled in all the other words of engouragement that you hear.

Those words seem to fall upon deaf ears.

To you, they don't mean anything.

They're useless.

Try this:

Instead of looking at the words themselves, look at the people who say them. Listen to the sincerity in their voices and how they say those things to you so earnestly. Look at their experiences. Their past. Look at them now. They should know. It gets better.

Kid, you are SO CLOSE to giving up.

SO CLOSE to walking away.

But would it really be worth it?

The same things will follow you later if you run away from them now.

You have to stay strong and get through this to find your peace.

Kid I have a saccharine smile.

Yet you take that away.

Oh don't worry- it's not a bad thing.

You make me realize what I need to do.

You tell it to me straight unlike any other.

It's serendipity.

I have found a form of self-actualization in our conversations.

Kid.... it's not gonna be easy- this life thing..

But you cannot just give up.

You are so close to the surface. Break above the waves and you will be free.

Take a deep breath.

Kid.. You offered to help me.

I'm not going to lie. I still need it.

Now I am offering it to you.

Just let me know.

A simple message or missed phone call at let's say between the hours of 3 and 4:38 am will suffice.

Just let me know tonight (or this morning rather) if you will take it or not.

For I need to know one way or the other.

You are so close.

You are so alive.

10/12/07

Get up.

Get up of the fucking floor and brush yourself off.

It is easier said than done.

The fear comes. It comes quickly. It is overwhelming, and I no longer know what to do, where to go, or who to go to.

Down, down, down.

I am spiraling downward uncontrolably.

Down, down, down.

I don't know how it ever got this bad at times. I really don't. And it terrifies me. I don't know what is taking place. I don't know why I have changed so much. I feel damaged. I am vulnerable.

Live.

Living is for the strong. It is for the brave.

Then explain why I am so weak and cowardly.

I am broken. Body, heart, and soul I am broken. I am beginning to wonder if any ammount of work will fix me. I would advise that you spend your time on something else. Not making it your goal to heal what is broken, to find what is irreplaceable.

Pessimistic, maybe.

Then again you have to see life from my point of view.

It is a view through a window of shattered glass. It is hard to explain why I chose that analogy. But there it is. My outlook and trust have been shattered this past year. I have been shaken to the core. And it has changed me.

I will continue to change. It is inevitable.

People will come and go, changing me along the way. Yet, there are a few who have made the biggest impact on me.

In a way, they have saved me for a short while. But only for a short while am I safe.

I don't want to be broken.

I'm too young to be this empty girl.

9/26/07

My lungs are screaming and begging for release. I know this time I have been holding things inside too long. I need an escape from this enviroment, from this place where lies entangle themselves with the truth, to the point where they become the same entity.

I am beginning to grow weary of this train of thought that has been following me for quite a length of time. But I can't seem to shake it.

I need a release.

9/14/07

The night is stagnant, and growing long. Shadows fall and i get the unnerving feeling that my purpose is lost. That my hopes have long been forgotten on a forlorn plane of thought. The wieght of that realization is immediate and immense.

I do not want to live without hope. Yet so many events seem to have snatched even the tiniest fragment away from my grasp. I cling on ever so tightly, looking over the horizon for the sunrise i so badly need. For once, I think I may have found it. Only time will tell.

Life is a precious gift. And so are the people who come into your life. Both have their trials and rough spots, but when you come through the other end of the tunnel you end up more grateful for them than you were before.

The pain that you have felt in your life, it will eventually fade. As will the scars.

It takes time to heal things.