For we are young

We will always be poor and we will always be angry. Our hearts will yearn for others and cry out to be loved. We will shed our tears and we will break our backs. For we are young and we are eager. Pain received is pain enjoyed, for it is attention. Our spirits will creak wearily under the weight of our own thoughts. Our eyelids, heavy though they may be, will resist sleep for we feel every moment may be our last. We will seek every thrill and throw caution to the wind. For we are young and we are willing. Our knuckles will bleed and our sweat will be shed. We will forge a living and build a home. We will mourn for what might have been and live in the past. Our stomachs will ache with hunger and our bodies with sickness but we will not show it. We will put on a smile and march on. For we are young, we are old, and we shall live.

On a cold winter's night it will find you. The feeling, the fear. Like a million little spiders creeping up your backbone, it contours to the hills and valleys of your vertebrate. Like a noose, the rope rough and rugged around your neck, it chokes you and steals your breath away. Like a knife it cuts deep into your gut, a pain so immense you can do nothing but wish to die. Oh, but you are dying. Like the cloth bound around your wrists, it renders you helpless. Like the hand over your mouth, it renders you speechless.
Then it's gone.
Then it's over.
It's finally over.

As I lay in my bed, I could feel it wash over me. You know the feeling. Your heart is sinking, it is slowly ripped apart, you are consumed. I tried to breathe slowly, to no avail. The sobs I held in my chest threatened to wrack my body, the tears held behind tightly closed eyelids made every bid for escape. I could not let myself cry over you. I could not become weaker than what I already was. Though my heart was painted loudly on my sleeve, I made every attempt to hide it. How could I be strong? How could I stand on my own when every bone in my body ached from pure exhaustion, when my mind had humbled itself and bowed in defeat? My heart wanted what it wanted, I could not stop that. And I couldn't stop the hurt you inflicted. You had succeeded. You had torn me apart.

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.