Monday, February 27, 2012

A Conversation for Strangers

There are some days when all I want to do is have a conversation with a stranger.

Question: Why?
Answer:Why not?

Question: What would we talk about?
Answer: Anything would work for me... I just want to talk. I want someone to listen to me as I tell a story from the very beginning. I want to debate over a topic of either grand importance or maybe of little importance. I want to listen to them speak about something that they're passionate about.

Question: How about an example?
Answer: Okay... How about being sick. I can handle pain, and being bed ridden and feeling like poo, but I CANNOT HANDLE having a stuffy nose or tossing my cookies (I hope you know what that means). I don't know why I can't stand a stuffy nose, I just... It's being able to breathe out one side and not being able to breathe out the other... or not being able to breathe at all. And when I try to blow my nose, it only makes things worse. I just have to sit and be patient for it to go away and that's another thing about me.. I'm not very patient! And to "get sick"... well that's just gross. I'd rather fight anything coming up tooth and nail than just get it over with and get it out of my system. Sure it doesn't make much sense... but that's just the way it is.

Question: Why such a novel?
Answer: You wanted an example... and thus I gave you one. I want to be able to talk about ANYTHING, and no one's ever asked me my feelings on being sick, or how much pain I can handle. It's one of those pointless, trivial facts about myself. Now here's a question for you...

Question: What?
Answer: My question for you is what's something you've never talked about because no one's ever asked you? I've never actually addressed anyone in my posts, never actually had a conversation outside of the comments. But to those who stumble upon this little spot full of words, it's time for me to welcome you to start to share some of your own. Let's have a conversation, and maybe at some point we won't be strangers anymore.

Friday, February 24, 2012

Disappointment

Sad disappointment
Out of the blue it came out
It heavies my heart

Thursday, February 23, 2012

Flight of the Birds

The black dotted lines
Dance across the sky's backdrop
The birds sing their song

Watching the Clouds

Gray, dark and gloomy
The clouds cover the bright sky
Wind pulls them away

In their place, white clouds
The sun still tries to shine through
It never gives up

Why Do We Live?

From the ground we rose
Living to improve living
Who knows what comes next

Sleepwalking in School

I drift through the halls
walking in a sleepless daze
looking for a bed

Wednesday, February 22, 2012

Day and Night

As the sun rises
Somewhere in the world it sinks
Darkness meets morning

When the Last Breath Comes

What would you do if
He decides to call you home?
Make every breath count

Reflection

In a sea of blue,
birds and fish live in the clouds.
Look down to look up.

Only In the Books

Once Upon a Time
Happily Ever After
Life’s no Fairy Tale

Midas’s Season

A crunch under foot
and a cool breeze in the trees
that Midas coloured.

Come On In, Jack

I woke up to ice
Crawling up my windowpane
Maybe Jack got cold

Summer Fun

Sliding across glass
The sun reflects in my eyes
Tubing on water

Time for Growth

Showers from above
Make room in the cold ground for
Little shoots of green

Tuesday, February 21, 2012

You Can Have Your Pie, but You Can't Eat It Too

There's a show that I absolutely love... It's one that had a short life but it was a good life and I loved every second of it. Now as I start to re-watch it from the beginning, I see that the relationship between pie-baker Ned and once-dead-but-alive-again Charlotte (Chuck) is one that I kind of mirror... in an upside, backwards, other-way-around kind of manner....

If I had the time, the patience, and the want to bore any of my readers to death I may recap all the things that make up the show that was (is?) Pushing Daises. I would explain how Ned has this magical ability to bring dead things to life if only for a minute but then they must die again with another touch of the magic finger, for if they don't, after a minute something or someone else would have to die as well. The only other catch to this ability is that once something(one) had been alive, dead, alive (by Ned), and then dead again (by Ned) he cannot bring them back to life. The something(one) is then officially dead.

*skip through plot details and spoilers*

Chuck, as Charlotte prefers to be called, is Ned's childhood best friend and sweetheart. They had lost touch after he had moved away. Reunited by her murder and Ned's magical touch of life, she's alive again and they are trying to manage their relationship the best they can.

BUT THEY CAN NEVER TOUCH.

Any form of skin to skin contact would result in Chuck becoming permanently dead.

It's quite sad actually.

So I got to thinking (an often dangerous past time actually) what if it was the other way around?

What if (and I'm placing myself in Chuck's shoes), you could never tell your best friend that you loved them, but you could touch them? (All minds out of the gutter, please.) What if you could hold their hand, rub their back when their sad, comfort them when they need an emotional Heimlich? What if you could lean on their shoulder and find yourself safe in their arms when nothing else will do? But what if you could do all that, but never ever tell them what you're really feeling?


It sucks.


Not to be all cryptic or anything, but that's the way I see my current situation without putting in any specifics. It's just that friendship is special, and being able to have and to give that contact comfort is the important part to life. It's not worth messing up, or taking the risk to hope for something better to turn out from the situation. Life is what it is, and pie will always smell better fresh out of the oven then what it'd smell like reheated, and to just have the feeling of a hug is more important than being anything more. So Ned and Chuck, I do feel sorry for you. But part of me is a little jealous too.


(And to those who read a lot of my blog and read my previous post, I did say something but we decided that our friendship was to valuable to risk) 

Becoming Satisfied

So.. I don't usually blog about my life personally. I'm more of a... write poems and thoughts cryptically and hide the meaning deep down and maybe one day the person it was written for will realize that it was about them and honestly I don't know where it would go from there but that's typically the way I post things.

It's not exactly that way anymore.

More and more I feel like just writing what I'm thinking and feeling outright. A big thing that I've started to realize this year is that you have to say what you need to say, you can't hide it and hope that other people figure it out. How is life supposed to get any better if you bury everything deep down inside and don't say anything? Take this song by Jewel... It's called Satisfied and I prefer the acoustic mix but the first bit of lyrics are what I'm trying to live by:

If you love somebody
You better let it out
Don't hold it back
While you're trying to figure it out
Don't be timid
Don't be afraid to hurt
Run toward the flame
Run toward the fire
Hold on for all your worth
Cause the only real pain a heart can ever know
Is the sorrow of regret
When you don't let your feelings show
[Chorus]
So did you say it
Did you mean it
Did you lay it on the line
Did you make it count
Did you look 'em in the eye
Did they feel it
Did you say it in time
Did you say it out loud
'cause if you did hun
Then you lived some
That feeling inside
That's called satisfied
(Thank you azlyrics.com) 

The lyrics explain what I've had the most problems with in my life.... I've never just said what I needed to say or if I did it was always too late. So I'm trying to be better now... because you never know when the last conversation will be.

Wednesday, February 15, 2012

Just...

I'm so tired. As of 2:48 this morning I've slept maybe an hour or two in total... But as it's that time now this is what I feel (rather was feeling):
I feel like my heart is the heaviest thing in my body compared to my empty stomach... if I were to eat something now, i just don't think i'd feel any better. Pain if I don't eat, or possibly be sick if I do. Which is the lesser evil? There's so much on my mind it's like a cloud keeping all the connections in my brain going, and I can say that it isn't the Pepperment Mocha I had at 7:00 last night. I just... I just don't know what to do or say anymore... Today we wear purple to raise awareness for Teen Dating Abuse and to stand against it and I'm an announcer for the morning announcements AND to topp theis loverly cake off I was personally asked to tell the school about the arrangements. I don't know how I'm going to do that on camera and keep my composure, and I don't know how much longer I'll be able to keep what's left of my mask on. My
barrier to the world shattered when I left something behind one night... And I can't keep it to myself anymore. As I lay awake more so now (it's 2:58) my stomach is crying for something to fill it. But I know I'll get hell if I walk downstairs and find my stepdad up... It'll be "why aren't you in bed?" "go back to bed". Or something derrogatory about my actions or thoughts on everything... not a word of "how are you" or "let's talk about this". That's what my mum would do when we wre little... When we couldn't sleep she would have me come sit on her bed and get me to open up with all the problems and things that were bohering me and everything. But not anymore. "You're the child, I'm the parent" is their creedo that they live by.nothing else matters but the rules and that everything happens as they see fit. I just can't take it any longer, I can't play their silly game. Coming home a  little late but before the night's set curfew of 11:30 from a friends house where the 3 of us sat and talked about everything. I had told my mum when I got home from school earlier that afternoon that I needed a shower, and so when I got home this time around I asked again. Her answer, their answer rather, was NO. "It's way past your bed time [10pm fyi] and you know you can't shower in the morning." "BUT! I'm doing the morning announcements!" my mother's answer: "Wear a hat". "So.... You expected me to choose between my hygiene and my best friend who is having such a hard time holding it together... That's ridiculous." "You're the one being rediculous." and somehwere along the line or everything she made holier-art-thou comment of "you didn't even care about who the kind was until you remembered you did history day together." My jaw must have hit the floor. "...excuse me?!? I NEVER EVER SAID THAT" "that's what it seemed like to me..." with not even a hint of remorse  or backing down in her voice. And from there I became the bad guy as I wasn't considerate of thinking  on how she
hasn't been home yet at all since leaving for work at 8:45ish. And how I haven't even asked how she's doing with dealing with the loss of her best friend's mother, along with the fact she can't be up there for the services. I'm a terrible person here... I'm inconsiderate of others and I only care about myself, lets just make that perfectly clear. It's quite obvious that I'm the worst daughter anyone could have, I'm a failure at life and I just plain suck. Seriously, with the way they talk to me and treat me, that's how I feel. THE  DOGS GET MORE RESPECT THAN I DO. Everyone else get's my mother's time... But not me.
Anyways now it's currently 3:31 and i've finally taken the headphones off, gone to the bathroom (the coffee was getting to me), paused typing for a little while just to makesure I was the only one awake (stepdad went to bed, and it's early for him actually)(please feel free to detect the scarcasm in my typed voice). I'm still hungry but I don't think I can  eat... Maybe I can get another hour of sleep before I get up at 5 to tackle washing my hair in the sink so I don't wake anyone up or get in the shower... The things I do just to break the rules... I'm such a terrible person huh?

Tuesday, February 14, 2012

Nothing More To Say, but So Much Left Unsaid

It hasn't sunken in yet.... everyone is still waiting for that 'ha-ha' moment that has yet to come. No one would care if it was all a joke, we'd all be happy just to have him back in our lives again. All the boys that are in scouts together are wearing their uniforms in memory of him. Every time I see one of them it's kind of a surprise... Boys that are in the more 'popular crowd' are wearing their colours proudly and when I remember what it is for it brings a tear to my eye. Another heart wrenching moment is when the librarian told me that one of the teachers are going to order a book in honour of the boy we lost. Now the librarian has to write a letter to his mother to let him know that this is what's being done for him. In a sense, it's bitter-sweet. Even tho it's only about 11:30, this day seems to be dragging on since I only had about 6 hours of sleep, which for me isn't all that much anymore. I was up on the phone till 11:55 talking to my two best friends, one who considered him a brother and had known each other since first grade, and the other was the girl I talked about the play with yesterday.

There are so many more things I could write here... the fact that there was nothing left of the front of the truck, and that the tree is still standing as tall as it did yesterday and the day before that without much more than a scratch. I could tell you all that I was told that in the glove compartment was a wooden heart that he was making for his mum for Christmas and had etched in with the laser three smaller hearts and the word "Mom" and had plans to put it on a darker piece of wood and to also include a poem. But to retrieve just that simple wooden heart with the few details, a family friend who's the father of the boy I stayed up all night talking to had to take a crowbar to make some sense out of where the glove compartment would be. Somehow, it made it out without any apparent damage. I could tell you that he had turned his life around, had finally gotten the call that he was accepted into the army, a dream he had been dreaming ever since he was little. He was a good kid... and we all miss him terribly.

As I typed my post yesterday and as I type this one, I'm trying not to use names. It's actually quite hard, but I'm trying to leave it as raw a post as it can be. No attachments in the sense that anyone reading this can place a name of their best friend, a boy and a girl, in. Then they can read and put a name in as someone young they've lost. And so on and so forth. I'm sure that there are many people that can relate to this and to those who don't know what it's like consider yourself blessed. Reading this can only give you a slight understanding of the pain there is.

Monday, February 13, 2012

What Do I Title a Story Like This?

There are just some mornings you wake up and you hope things are going to get better. You hope that all the fighting from last night is left in the past, that you'll look upon your arm and all you see is unbroken skin, and that things will just go smoothly as a typical Monday. But that's what wishful thinking is. Waking up I was that na├»ve... Nothing had magically changed overnight. Things with my mum only got worse, the TV was on as she watched Grimm, an episode I had yet to see. So I put on my head phones to keep out the dialogue so that the episode didn't spoil. And then I had to run back up to my room to grab some pieces of ducktape to make a bracelet for a friend who is moving to West Virginia. Thus me doing that and then having to run back up to grab my water bottle made my sister and I miss the bus. So my mum drove us up to school where the feeling that more bad things were to come settled in the pit of my stomach.
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I swear sometimes I have dead on feelings. God goodness I honestly did not mean to make a pun but I'll leave it there to keep the realness of this post. What I wrote above is just a mere background to what I found out as I get ready to work with a little preschool girl on her numbers. The preschool teacher showed me a name from upon her phone and asked if I recognized it. I knew who it was, and then she showed me the text she had gotten before that. (Both were from her daughter, a girl in my grade). "Mom, a kid in my grade died this morning." I honestly did't know what I was feeling... even now as I write this two hours later I'm not sure what's running through my mind but each moment after that. I took the little girl into the workroom and she counted from 1 to 20 and then went beyond like she always does, getting stuck on 26. Then we did 1 through 10 flash cards, and then she started to work on how to write the number 7. Then the bus arrived to take me back to school, my internship being over for the day. I had to carry a boy's backpack because he didn't want to go to kindergarten today. (Now i can't help but wonder if he had the feeling that something was wrong in the balance of Dallas School District.) We join all the other kindergartners that were on the bus, and we ride over to the elementary school. The bus driver answered her phone and words of "Oh my God" and "No way" in doubt and pain escaped her lips. When she got off I asked her if she had just heard about the car crash. "I drove past it.... I knew I recognized that truck." The other seniors interning at the elementary school joined myself and the last few kindergartners (those who attend the other elementary school.) We talked about the little we knew of how it happened and all the other crazy accidents that have happened this year. No one, not even the kids with cancer or who ended up in a coma had died. When we got to the school, kids were still at C lunch. It was like someone had placed a spell over the majority of the kids. Some, mostly underclassmen, were laughing and talking like nothing had happened. But those who knew him, all the seniors and a lot of the juniors, sad somber, staring into space. I joined some of my friends, and held the hand of one as she cried before she found comfort in the shoulder of her little (but big in height) brother. I got to homeroom and just sat down, not really sure what to say or do. Another friend came in, tears were in her eyes as well and all I could do was wonder where were mine? As I turned around in my chair and took her hands those tears found me. I tried to keep them away, but was to stay strong? Or was it because I felt that the tears were mainly there for show? When we started to head to the auditorium for a school wide assembly, I met up with my friend who's brother was up on the third floor now. We joined hands as we slowly made it through the halls. Everyone seemed to be dragging their feet. All around I saw girls crying who I never thought would shed a tear over this boy. Friends were consoling each other walking with arms linked, as if that feeling was the only thing keeping them standing, or from maybe dying themselves. All the while I'm waiting for some one to say that it was all a mistake, that nothing really happened. When we get to the auditorium doors we hear the vice-principal saying in his loud voice "Juniors to the left, Seniors to the right." Together we are one of the last ones to get seated. Near by I see the girl that had been my best friend, who I wish still was my best friend. I wonder what she's thinking, but for the moment it seems as if she isn't bothered by the news. I talk to those around me. To the girl who's hand I had been holding we attempt to catch up. I tell her the story of how the other friendship ended, how she didn't want to talk to me anymore and didn't want anything to do with me. I include that I barely have anyone now to confide in and that maybe all of 3 people know who I really am. She points out to me one of those 3 people... "What about... oh... what's her name?" I called out her name and got her attention.We talked about the spring musical for a little then I asked her if she got my text on how we need to talk. "No... was it before school started? My phone beeped and it died." "It was..." I found out how hard it is to try to have two different conversations at once, so before I went back to talking with the girl next to me I told the other, "I broke last night." Her look was serious as she said, "Yeah, we need to talk." I then filled in the girl next to me what has been going on with me, how tomorrow is going to be a stressful day. I know that the tears that came this time were honest and even though they came slowly they took out all my feeling with them. From there I lightly bumped into the boy next to me asking how he was doing. His answer surprised me as he said something along the lines of "I'm used to it." I think we talked a little after that but I can't remember what was said. All I do remember is the pressure of his hand on my knee as maybe an act of condolence as the school superintendent opened the assembly. They talked about what happened, not nessessarily the details because we weren't sure of any, but how there are people here to talk to and that grief will hit us all at different points and that we will all deal with it in different ways as the days come to pass. I kept on hoping that maybe the boy next to me would try to make me feel better again, maybe he would take my hand and make me feel less alone. Instead I picked up on that my friend to the right was crying again so I chose to put away my foolish heart. I placed my hand lightly upon hers, hoping that she realized I was there for her. I had been the first one to say hello to her last year when she was the new girl and our friendship had never quite been the strongest. But at that point I really hoped that she knew I would hold her hand forever just to have her realize she's not alone either. As the assembly came to a close (there is no arrangements yet, but they'll let us know when they find out, although us students will probably know before that.), we walked out again hand in hand. Her tears were flowing freely again, and I told her to find me in the library if she needs me. So I went back to homeroom, gathered my stuff, walked to the greeters desk to make sure that I wasn't going down for my other internship at the elementary school, and then filled up my water bottle and headed up to the library.
And so that's where I am now... writing for the first time in my life a blog post as detailed as my memory. I could include how there isn't a cloud in the sky making it a beautiful day. That cars have been constantly coming in and out, how the news sites have barely anything on the story besides "an 18 year old boy [some referred to him as a man] died today around 7:50 heading to school." Sure there are other details such as the road he was on, and that speeding may have been an issue, but nothing more than that. Around me I hear conversations about prom and friends doing drugs and suicide and classwork and leaving school earlier. But all I hear in my head is this story... that I will never be able to forget.
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I wish that I had started my day out better, that things with my mum were on better terms currently. Missing the bus seems like forever ago as I sit here now. You really don't know what you have until it's gone... and it kills me (bad word I know) as I realize how quickly it can be taken away from you.

The Beach Upon the Ocean of My Heart

My heart is a beach upon a beautiful ocean... The waves come in and out, a steady lub-dub rhythm. When the tide comes in, the tears start to flow. But it's okay because as the tide receedes, I wipe my cheeks dry and focus on the rhythm. Waves build, hold their white caps, and crash upon the sand only to slink back from whence they came so they can grow again. At the same time I take a deep breath in, hold it, and let the air escape from me before I take another. Breathe in and hold as waves slide down the sand. Growing from the ocean, the white caps build as I let the carbony air release once again from my lungs. In and out. In and out. Upon the soft sand people leave their footprints. As the waves come in and the tide rises, those footprints are washed away. Most of the time, people are back to make more footprints in the sand. But when the waves wash them away and there is noone to make them once again... Then there's just no footprints. As people come and go there are some that have left my life but they walked high upon the beach, and the tide hasn't reached that high upon the beach to wash their footprints away. Some people have left quite easily and it's no big deal. Whereas there are also others I miss incredibly, but I know that I'll never see them again... and they'll never walk along the ocean either. Those who are forever gone from me now dot the black night sky above. Those who just choose to be gone but my heart refuses to let go are now thoughts that may one day materialize. There are footprints all over my heart, the ocean keeps it to a steady rhythm. If I lay down and listen to the silence, it's not long before my ears catch the waves upon the sand.

A Web of Emotions Looking for the Sunrise

It boils inside of me... Pain, anger, sadness, lost hope, defeat. The pressure is too much to handle anymore. Just below the surface, blood pulses throughout my veins looking for a way out. My fingers dance across my skin to create a web upon it's most vulnerable point. Maybe there some of my feelings will find release. Now, more then ever, my mind begs for a senseless and thoughtless diversion from the black hole forming inside of me. As time goes by, more pieces of the web are left behind. This isn't me screaming for attention, it's not me trying to find sympathy. It's not an act of defiance, a stand of freedom, proof of a personal vendetta. All it is, is the hope of the end. Now please don't misinterpret that as the very end end. Understand that all I'm looking for is the end of the pain. I want to feel happy and joyful. I want to find hope again. I don't want to go to bed anymore feeling like a terrible person, a horrible daughter, a burden, a charity case. I want to wake up knowing I went to bed happy 9 times outta 10. But I'm caught in this web and I can't get out. As long as the pressure inside keeps the spider right there, I'll fight it just to see the next sunrise.

Friday, February 03, 2012

I'm kinda like an iPod....

I have a plethora of music knowledge and i'm easy to use... if only my brain had a shut off option... Maybe then I could finally get some sleep.

What Do You Do

What do you do? Just... When everything you had is taken away from you, and there's noone there to help you deal with the pain... What do you do? When you live in so much pain with your heart feeling like it's in a couple thousand pieces... And with each beat it seems as if the hope of it ever healing is getting farther and farther away. What do you do when you wake up one morning and you eventually notice the lack of pain... In it's place is nothing. There's no leftover want to cry any more and there's no hurt with every heart beat. Regardless, there's still no happiness. It's kinda like there's a black hole instead. It's kind of nice actually... Would you treat it as a little vacation? What would you do... After months of moving on and thoughts of, well, not him... What would you do if he crossed your mind? If love for him came back in such a burst of passion it brings you down to your knees and makes you cry. Like ripping a scar off for it's healed all mishapen. What do you do with that love, that pain? Do you attempt bury it away again? Do you act on your impulse to talk to him and try to old it right? What do you do?!? Do you listen to your heart and try again? Do you dwell on what could never be? Do you timidly say hello and hope something happens or do you come right out and tell it to him straight? Do you fight the facts that the head is trying to use to reason with your heart? Or do you force yourself to sleep in hopes you wake up and forget this bad bad dream? Is the hurt going to go away faster by ignorance or confertation? What do you do what do you do what do you do what do you do what do you do what do you do what do you do what do you do what do you do what do you do what do you do what do you do what do you do what do you do what do you do what do you do what do you do what do you do what do you do what do you do what do you do what do you do what do you do what do you do what do you do what do you do what do you do what do you do what do you do