It meant nothing. I don't want you anymore. Why? You are boring. Damaged. Too much. I always knew it wouldn't last. In my love, I was blind. In my anger, I was flustered. I let rage and my desire for revenge consume me and take hold.
You were a mistake. I know this now. I am sorry for how this has ended. I am sorry for being over you so quickly. I almost feel guilty that when you said, "goodbye," I was overjoyed. Yes, also mortified, but relieved you were finally leaving.
The truth is, I grew tired of you long ago. I stuck around for a reason even I can't comprehend. I do not know why I stayed and begged you to stay. Perhaps it was love, but this reasoning does not suffice. There is more, and yet, I don't really care what it was. I'm only interested in moving on now. In finding a new adventure. In beginning the story I abandoned so long ago.
I will not lie (anymore). I don't want you to find happiness. I want you to suffer. To pay. To wallow in anguish forever. LOST. ALONE. AFRAID.
I still want revenge.
So I'm not quite over you yet. I need more time, but I am very close. Tomorrow I will let you go. Tomorrow... NO. Today. Today you will die again and again. Burned in the fire of my mind. Burned until there is nothing left, but ashes of what it once was. Distant memories...
I was in love once before. When I think of her, it hurts. It's my fault she's gone. I hurt her. I made too many mistakes. She's never coming back. She's better without me. It would have been better if I had never met her. That hurts too.
She never even knew. I'll never get to tell her. It's too late. I miss her. I miss everything about her. I did something. I choose the wrong path. I trapped myself in a bad place. I tried to shield myself from the pain by lying to myself. I lost myself in every way. I forgot who I was. I no longer understood the difference between reality and fantasy. It was a blur. Like a nightmare thought to be a dream. I believed I had done the right thing.
I was a fool. I was mistaken. But it's too late now. This is a wound that will never truly heal, and it's all my fault.
But the wound of you... is healing so quickly. Curious. It astounds me. Perplexes.
I wonder if it really is healing. Perhaps this is a trick. I can only hope it's not.
Thank you for the good memories. Fuck you for the bad ones. Don't take that last one too seriously.
I don't think it's a trick though because I can listen to "I'll Forget You" from the Scarlet Pimpernal. It doesn't hurt anymore. I feel nothing, but maybe a little tinge of pain in the center of my chest. It fades with each passing day. Soon I will feel nothing. How exciting.
It hurts to say, but I still love you. I can't change that no matter what I do. Once you love someone, truly love, you can never stop. A sad fact sometimes. But just because I love you, doesn't mean I want to be with you.
I know you don't want to be with me. I began wanting to leave you a little after school resumed. I stayed for fear of hurting you, but after "the incident" I don't know what possessed me to stay. It's not like I wanted to. Very odd. Very strange.
You aren't in my dreams anymore. You were always before. Now I see someone else. I don't know this person in my dreams, but he keeps appearing. I doesn't leave when I tell him too. He stays and messes up my dreams. Just waltzes right in and tells me to wake up. Bastard. Doesn't let me stay in my dream world. The odd thing is I can't remember what he looks like. I only know he was there. Maybe I'll make a mental note when I see him again tonight.
Do you still have dreams? Or were they shattered, love?
Or maybe you only have nightmares. Awakening in a cold sweat. Gasping for air. Looking for the beasts in the shadows. Letting your fears fill you with dread. Taking you in and spitting you out. Naked. Exposed. The thought of being alone. Feeling so small compared to the outside world. No one to hold your hand and shield you from ugliness all around. You only have yourself and the lies you make.
Behind you is destruction. Before you is white. Nothing yet made. Quick! Hurry! You haven't much time. Make your choice. Decide your fate. Go forward or stay behind. This is your world. Make it to your design. You have all the tools. You and your mind. And the mind is very powerful indeed.
It's too late now. The white is gone. No more options. Just floating in nothingness. Feeling empty. Was it all a lie? Confusion. Terror. Shock. NO. This is your fault.
NO. It couldn't be, could it. No, it wasn't me. I am innocent. I am. I am.
The lies begin in your very core.
Please I am innocent.
You are condemned.
But I am...
Nothing.
But-
Go.
I-
Thursday, January 3, 2013
Sunday, December 23, 2012
What might have been... 12/23/12
I'm waiting for you to call me. You say you love me, but it's hard to believe. You ignore me and make me jealous. It's like I'm being played with. I'm tired of it.
Time and time again, you hurt me. Why? Thinking about you hurts my heart. Knowing you no longer care, hurts worse.
It reminds me of Her. Except maybe the situation's reverse. Because you're me, and I'm Her.
You're pushing me away. But no. It's reached the point where it's more like you're driving me away. You're words are empty like your heart and head. You're selfish and cruel. You lie. You can only think of yourself.
In the end, that's all you'll have. That and the memories. The regrets.
That's what I have now. I could have had Her. Been close to Her. I could've... I could've... But that's all it is. I should have... but I didn't.
It's my fault She's gone.
It will be your fault when I'm gone.
So why are you doing this to yourself? I know you're unhappy. I can see it in your eyes. Why don't you let me in. I want to help you because, the truth is, I love you.
Now, you need to decide what to do, and yes, doing nothing is a decision.
Why can't you trust me? Is it because your parents are divorced? Are you afraid of ending up like them? I'm afraid too. But you can't let fear run your life. You need to be strong and brave.
But it's hard...
You have a choice to leave if things get hard. What holds you back? Fear. What stops you from changing things? Fear.
Fear is very powerful. You can use it in many ways. To gain power, to motivate, to inspire, to fall, to change. So change.
Don't let the doubts consume you. What's better? To sit forever in dark room wondering what the outside is like? Or to find a way outside?
You wouldn't know what it's like. You've never been there. There's a door, and opening, a window behind a curtain. You have your escapes. You can leave anytime. But you're afraid. What's beyond the door? The unknown. What's it like? You want to find out. You need to. You have to. Would you cast away these thoughts and wants, and continue sitting in your empty room? Would you face the world in all it's beauty and horror? What would you do?
I've always thought it was a silly thing to do, to stay in that darken room. True, you'll never be hurt, always safe, but you'll never know how wonderful things can be. We can only experience happiness if we have experienced a great sadness. It's yin and yang. Good and evil. Light and dark. Man and woman. One cannot exist without the other.
What a terrible punishment... to forever wonder, what might have been.
It's a Sunday
Time and time again, you hurt me. Why? Thinking about you hurts my heart. Knowing you no longer care, hurts worse.
It reminds me of Her. Except maybe the situation's reverse. Because you're me, and I'm Her.
You're pushing me away. But no. It's reached the point where it's more like you're driving me away. You're words are empty like your heart and head. You're selfish and cruel. You lie. You can only think of yourself.
In the end, that's all you'll have. That and the memories. The regrets.
That's what I have now. I could have had Her. Been close to Her. I could've... I could've... But that's all it is. I should have... but I didn't.
It's my fault She's gone.
It will be your fault when I'm gone.
So why are you doing this to yourself? I know you're unhappy. I can see it in your eyes. Why don't you let me in. I want to help you because, the truth is, I love you.
Now, you need to decide what to do, and yes, doing nothing is a decision.
Why can't you trust me? Is it because your parents are divorced? Are you afraid of ending up like them? I'm afraid too. But you can't let fear run your life. You need to be strong and brave.
But it's hard...
You have a choice to leave if things get hard. What holds you back? Fear. What stops you from changing things? Fear.
Fear is very powerful. You can use it in many ways. To gain power, to motivate, to inspire, to fall, to change. So change.
Don't let the doubts consume you. What's better? To sit forever in dark room wondering what the outside is like? Or to find a way outside?
You wouldn't know what it's like. You've never been there. There's a door, and opening, a window behind a curtain. You have your escapes. You can leave anytime. But you're afraid. What's beyond the door? The unknown. What's it like? You want to find out. You need to. You have to. Would you cast away these thoughts and wants, and continue sitting in your empty room? Would you face the world in all it's beauty and horror? What would you do?
I've always thought it was a silly thing to do, to stay in that darken room. True, you'll never be hurt, always safe, but you'll never know how wonderful things can be. We can only experience happiness if we have experienced a great sadness. It's yin and yang. Good and evil. Light and dark. Man and woman. One cannot exist without the other.
What a terrible punishment... to forever wonder, what might have been.
It's a Sunday
Monday, December 17, 2012
Forgotten or Ignored 12/17/12
12/17/12
"Don't forget Sinklair!" she screams. She being the daughter of my brother's girlfriend. In a way, she is my niece. So it wouldn't be completely wrong to say, my nieces always remember me.
My sister's daughter is a baby. She screams with glee whenever she sees me, and she glances my way and smiles. The toddler crawls after me and even imitates what I'm doing.
I guess, it's to be expected. They're both a lot newer to the family and don't really understand. I'm the ignored one. Everyone forgets about me. It's like I don't exist sometimes. It could be worse. But this is the life I was given. To be forgotten by all except my nieces (and maybe one day nephews).
I'm not going to give you all a depressing story about how I wish I could be noticed or how I resent my sister for always being in the spotlight. No. I'll tell you about the benefits of being ignored.
For one, no one asks me to do things all the time. If anyone does ask something of me, it's normally small and not too hard. Though that can get annoying because on the rare occasion I am handed something important and "big," no one trusts me to do it right. But it does get out of doing a lot of work... unlike my sister, who is always asked to do stuff.
I can also walk downstairs. No, there's more. I can walk down stairs and make myself a peanut butter sandwich with cheerios and apple slices and sour cream and sugar. It would taste terrible, but I could do it without anyone asking why.
Then again, maybe I'm ignored because they have grown so accustomed to my insanity that it no longer makes a difference.
Maybe they actually notice me and pretend that they didn't.
Maybe they all have really short attention spans.
Maybe I should stop trying to rationalize this and go and do homework.
It's a Monday.
"Don't forget Sinklair!" she screams. She being the daughter of my brother's girlfriend. In a way, she is my niece. So it wouldn't be completely wrong to say, my nieces always remember me.
My sister's daughter is a baby. She screams with glee whenever she sees me, and she glances my way and smiles. The toddler crawls after me and even imitates what I'm doing.
I guess, it's to be expected. They're both a lot newer to the family and don't really understand. I'm the ignored one. Everyone forgets about me. It's like I don't exist sometimes. It could be worse. But this is the life I was given. To be forgotten by all except my nieces (and maybe one day nephews).
I'm not going to give you all a depressing story about how I wish I could be noticed or how I resent my sister for always being in the spotlight. No. I'll tell you about the benefits of being ignored.
For one, no one asks me to do things all the time. If anyone does ask something of me, it's normally small and not too hard. Though that can get annoying because on the rare occasion I am handed something important and "big," no one trusts me to do it right. But it does get out of doing a lot of work... unlike my sister, who is always asked to do stuff.
I can also walk downstairs. No, there's more. I can walk down stairs and make myself a peanut butter sandwich with cheerios and apple slices and sour cream and sugar. It would taste terrible, but I could do it without anyone asking why.
Then again, maybe I'm ignored because they have grown so accustomed to my insanity that it no longer makes a difference.
Maybe they actually notice me and pretend that they didn't.
Maybe they all have really short attention spans.
Maybe I should stop trying to rationalize this and go and do homework.
It's a Monday.
Monday, December 3, 2012
Jumbled Up Thoughts 12/02/12
I am confused. My mind is jumbled up. It makes no sense.
Why is it when I try, I don't see why I should; but when I don't, I see every reason to. I tell myself this is life. The moment I try to make sense of things, there is no sense to be made. There is nothing. There is everything.
Who am I? What is this? Why is this? How is this? Where am I now? There is no real answer. I've searched for one so long. Why do we care so much anyway? Why do we search desperately to be something? Why do we put labels on yourself? Why do we want to belong somewhere? What's the point?
There is none. There is nothing. It’s all an illusion. It’s all fake. Or is it? I’ve never really understood what reality was. Chocolate. Why can’t it be chocolate? What? Yeah, I don’t know either.
I haven't done or said anything that could be considered wise. I'm an idiot. I'm not okay with that. I'll never be okay with that. And I will always try to prove that wrong. But I won't. And I'm not okay with that either.
I want to be… I’m not really sure. I want to be me, I guess. I’m not content with that. I want to be better. I want to me someone. I want to disappear. I want to be nothing. I want to sink into my mind. To be someone else. To be in imaginary. Is that real? Your imagination? What is it? What’s fake? What’s real? It doesn’t make sense. It’s here, but it isn’t. I don’t get it.
I think I’m paranoid.
Really paranoid. I’ve never been sure as to why.
Then again, I’ve always had trouble making up my mind.
Do you have trouble too? I’m sure it’s normal. Nothing is strange in my mind. It’s all normal because there is no normal.
There are more important things I could be doing. I have homework. I’m stupid. I’m lazy.
I don't mean that to be rude to myself. But I refuse to see myself as something better because if I do, I'll stop trying.
I guess, I’m a bit narcissistic too. I think I’m so talented. I’m good looking. I’m smart. I become confident when I say these things. Proud. Then something happens and I’m just sitting here like “fuck me.” I can’t stick to anything because when I do, I find evidence to prove myself wrong. I find evidence to prove I’m pretty, and then to prove I’m ugly. It’s confusing.
I'm not sure how I feel about death. If someone I care about were to die, I'd be sad. If I were to die, I wouldn't really care. It would just happen. How do you feel about death?
Some people want to die. I did too. Sometimes I still do. I think it’s normal. Life is hard. Sometimes too difficult. It keeps getting worse. There’s no reason to live.
Then you find one. Then it’s gone.
Sometimes I want to give up, just so I can find a reason to keep going.
I'm not. I say awful things to myself to prove myself wrong. I'm paranoid. I think I'm pretty. I think I'm smart. But if I say that I must not be. So if I say I'm ugly, I'll be pretty. But if I'm saying I'm ugly, so I can believe I'm pretty, I must be an awful person. Then I get stuck in a loop.
That doesn't make sense either.
I told you my mind was a jumbled up mess.
To kill yourself is selfish. To wish someone would just get what you want to say is selfish. We are humans. We were born selfish.
Why haven’t I done my homework?
I want to sink into my mind. I want to be someone else. Even there, I'd miss you. Even now, I miss you. I don't believe I'll cave though. I have too much self control left in me. I mean, if I didn't have it, I would be in jail for murdering my family right now.
Humans are selfish. They just want to be loved. Selfish humans.
I feel like we're having two conversations. And somehow, they merge in the middle.
It's a Sunday.
Why is it when I try, I don't see why I should; but when I don't, I see every reason to. I tell myself this is life. The moment I try to make sense of things, there is no sense to be made. There is nothing. There is everything.
Who am I? What is this? Why is this? How is this? Where am I now? There is no real answer. I've searched for one so long. Why do we care so much anyway? Why do we search desperately to be something? Why do we put labels on yourself? Why do we want to belong somewhere? What's the point?
There is none. There is nothing. It’s all an illusion. It’s all fake. Or is it? I’ve never really understood what reality was. Chocolate. Why can’t it be chocolate? What? Yeah, I don’t know either.
I haven't done or said anything that could be considered wise. I'm an idiot. I'm not okay with that. I'll never be okay with that. And I will always try to prove that wrong. But I won't. And I'm not okay with that either.
I want to be… I’m not really sure. I want to be me, I guess. I’m not content with that. I want to be better. I want to me someone. I want to disappear. I want to be nothing. I want to sink into my mind. To be someone else. To be in imaginary. Is that real? Your imagination? What is it? What’s fake? What’s real? It doesn’t make sense. It’s here, but it isn’t. I don’t get it.
I think I’m paranoid.
Really paranoid. I’ve never been sure as to why.
Then again, I’ve always had trouble making up my mind.
Do you have trouble too? I’m sure it’s normal. Nothing is strange in my mind. It’s all normal because there is no normal.
There are more important things I could be doing. I have homework. I’m stupid. I’m lazy.
I don't mean that to be rude to myself. But I refuse to see myself as something better because if I do, I'll stop trying.
I guess, I’m a bit narcissistic too. I think I’m so talented. I’m good looking. I’m smart. I become confident when I say these things. Proud. Then something happens and I’m just sitting here like “fuck me.” I can’t stick to anything because when I do, I find evidence to prove myself wrong. I find evidence to prove I’m pretty, and then to prove I’m ugly. It’s confusing.
I'm not sure how I feel about death. If someone I care about were to die, I'd be sad. If I were to die, I wouldn't really care. It would just happen. How do you feel about death?
Some people want to die. I did too. Sometimes I still do. I think it’s normal. Life is hard. Sometimes too difficult. It keeps getting worse. There’s no reason to live.
Then you find one. Then it’s gone.
Sometimes I want to give up, just so I can find a reason to keep going.
I'm not. I say awful things to myself to prove myself wrong. I'm paranoid. I think I'm pretty. I think I'm smart. But if I say that I must not be. So if I say I'm ugly, I'll be pretty. But if I'm saying I'm ugly, so I can believe I'm pretty, I must be an awful person. Then I get stuck in a loop.
That doesn't make sense either.
I told you my mind was a jumbled up mess.
To kill yourself is selfish. To wish someone would just get what you want to say is selfish. We are humans. We were born selfish.
Why haven’t I done my homework?
I want to sink into my mind. I want to be someone else. Even there, I'd miss you. Even now, I miss you. I don't believe I'll cave though. I have too much self control left in me. I mean, if I didn't have it, I would be in jail for murdering my family right now.
Humans are selfish. They just want to be loved. Selfish humans.
I feel like we're having two conversations. And somehow, they merge in the middle.
It's a Sunday.
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