I could always tell it was you laughing from rooms away.

I hear your cackle. Anyone who knows you recognizes it and inevitably cackles, themself. You're laughter calms and softens even the densest of hearts. I can't remember a time it wasn't that way. You see me. At least I think you do. But everyone wants to talk to you, laugh with you. It takes a little bit before you get to me. You smile cheesily. You're in a great mood today. I smile back. We talk and walk, and talk and walk with others. Too soon, you have to go. I'm guessing you're tired. All the excitement we drum up, can be tiresome. But after you have left, I'm not sad. Well, I am slightly sad, but not as sad as I'd expect after your having to go. My smiles aren't quite as wide when you're not around. I cannot cause anyone to laugh as well as I cause you. My vacations of choice include watching television with you and waiting up half the night discussing trivial matters. But right now, as you walk away, I feel surprised, perhaps even dissatisfied with you.

My eyes don't have to open to realize you weren't real. Of course I was dissatisfied. Our brains could be the most advanced and capable elements of the universe: able to imagine. But even those can't recreate someone it has experienced time and time again to fullest degree. Inside my head, night or day, you're merely a two-demensional figure. How could the essence of a someone who causes so much rapture by just being near!, be caught within the strokes of a stick figure. I may hear your laughter and feel the softness of your skin, but they're stick figures compared to you. Nothing, compared to you. I wish I had a magical brush that could paint with the texture of your soul. But I fear no amount of magic could enliven a canvas in accord with your splendor.

I wish I could talk with you. I wish I could see you. And I do, but all I have are these worthless visions of you that could never do you justice. My mind just can't do it. It can't fool me, even as I sleep, that you are here.

I miss you, my dear Amanda.

Free Write 1

here comes the electro
im pretty sure i was given too many chances. arent i on strike...who knows what, but well past three? was not i supposed to be out long ago? waiting for the destruction of the world. wait..it already is destroyed. see what i mean? my mind is blown. directionless. they say when caught out in the ocean, the worst is falling too below the surface, especially in the dark. elusive exit surface. im trapped below that mirky water. right, left, up, down, all become a slurry of choices that lead nowhere but deeper into the abyss. my lungs ache to expand. finally they are compelled to suck in. nothingness enters through my mouth. i swallow it continuously. im ravenous. like an infant, i root. my body lurches, searching for more nothingness to drink in. and then i am still. full of absence and darkness. i sink further. i like it here. no longer seeking out the exit. just falling graciously into a pit. i like it here. i am alone and safe. i like it here. never shall i worry about pain. or love. i like it here. i like it here. i like it here. it. here. i. nothing but words, not even a string. just words. vacant of meaning. i am vacant of meaning. in fact, without meaning, i does not exist. a hollow, forgotten word, from a forgotten past. here.

Therapy Poetry1

it's been a terrible two months. as expected. i don't think i need to say the obvious when it comes to what happened. i'm sure i will soon post much about what has happened. of course without names, just emotions. but here's the most recent poem/song...i wrote it within the last 20 minutes. i am SURE i will be updating it soon. but here's the rough/raw words as of now. here's to looking forward to sad/depressing words. hope you all are well.

Walls arent closing in
They are breaking down
My head has been screaming
But I don’t hear a sound
The life I thought I had
Has been ripped apart
Now any future
Seems so dark
What if I don’t want to go on now
Could they ever understand
What if everything is too broken now
Too late to lend a hand
pieces cant be forced to fit
I know ill never be over this
But I keep seeking out what ever will take this pain away
Ill never find
A love like yours
Wind on which I soared
Im falling
Crashing down
I felt my wings break as I peered into your face
With your last breaths I prayed for you to rest
I layed against your bed sobbing like a child I said
“You were my best friend”
And now im falling
Im crashing down
Im burning
Right through the ground
Im falling
Forever into space
Hoping I will lose my way
But you are worth every ounce of pain

Hospital Spaces

we are wrecks. is it fair to jot emotions and thoughts of a common affair? especially within a room stained with them. fortunately, giggles help blur pain's edge. but another set of walls imprisons perseverance, beauty, and faith, while silence streaks red across them, tainting them with impending desolation. she's holding on. by a liquid strand. she breathes without winces and sleeps without tears. how long until even that is too much to ask for? i peer out from inside a vessel, desperate to connect to this world or be blinded completely. i ache to sit beside her, lose everything but that moment, but her and i, but her. and i cant. something scratches at me. gnaws on me. my fingers twitch and my heart races waiting..waiting..waiting for who knows what. some sort of change. anticipation for laughter, dread for ...

i cannot continue this post at this time. too hard. too much.

Final Break

That title is false. i do not know why i used it. im sorry if i just broke your poor little heart. oops i did it again, calling your heart little. im on such a roll today.
tomorrow is my final final of the quarter, and oh how i wish i could bypass it completely. the course is a throw away 2unit'er and yet contains the most memorization of any of the classes iv taken this year. boo. i thought it was my not attending class but 3 times causing my whine. however, after speaking with several of my fellow classmates, i have quite a possible claim. none of us are looking forward to tomorrow's exam (as if there is an exam we have ever looked forward to...). i should probably warn you, imaginary reader of mine, i feel particularly cynical this week. partially i blame Taylor Swift. yes i said it. cutesy, country and pop's baby doll in sun dresses, has made me cynical this week. i finally picked up her latest album (very overdue) and after researching the inspirations for each song, am now directly affected by them. one in particular scratched away the seedlings over the fresh dirt of some past relationships. fortunately i am clear as ever that the conclusion of those relationships were the best option, however the reverie kills me. to top it off, a therapist i just started seeing has asked me to evaluate the ways in which i go about forming relationships and treating them. yay. he said someone who wears awesome hats like me (fedoras) should have friends. thanks? the upside to this state of mind: self and social reflection and has yet made me lonelier. will i become depressed? probably. but more out of this reflection and realization instead of dictation from my mood/loneliness. i enjoy this form of depression so much more, for i at least feel there is a concrete reason for that downfall. otherwise the depression worsens from the frustration 'why do i feel terrible!?!'
in other mental news, the therapist confirmed im a masochist and that the treatment is 2 years. thanks mom.
and despite my self and social wallowing, my significant other sticks by me, putting up with each mood swing, each threat, each tear. i hope so much that i make long, quick strides to wellness before i lose him. i could not blame him for leaving at any point, and for this i try even harder to abstain from my defense mechanisms. scarier to love and be loved but it supplies a phenomenal reason to fight those fears. for the first time in my life, i look to the future with hope and positivity. Nietzsche was wrong. i didn't have to recreate my purpose, it just had to be revealed. 'he' illuminated that purpose, and for this i reinvent the rest of me. we are worth it.

People Watching

Ever walked along a road that presents several glass encased establishments? Beauty parlors, insurance offices, restaurants, shops displaying life for any bystander to witness. These are some of the stages on which we act, and yet anyone can view, even stare and analyze these vulnerable moments. True, most individuals' personalities are fluid depending upon the stage in which they currently reside, however, sectors of their personalities these incidences remain. Imagine your home. Now imagine your home's walls constructed from plexiglas. Daunting, no? Even with mere imagination, you are intimidated by the thought of constant disruption of privacy--I say YOU respectively, for some are easier to accept such a display, especially if their personality attributes are less fluid, more consistent across various stages. These individuals' fear stems from the possibility of being proven a phony. The at home me is much different from the in class me, for I understand these stages has requiring particular behaviors and motives that are beneficial in that particular scene's success, as well as mine within it. Of course some of my moods lend me the opportunity to be careless of the requirements and be whom I currently feel to be. Retreating back to the point of being proven a phony, if these individuals, like me, have established images in different scenarios, then a constant analysis of the home will show a side unseen elsewhere, and therefore may give evidence to a fraud. Retreating farther yet, I mentioned stores on a given street allow perception of individuals in various masks. Despite recognizing these are stages separate from the home, they still help represent an individual, like pieces to a large puzzle. With that, I find it incredibly counter intuitive that we are essentially okay with being on display, but not within the home. All are puzzle pieces, all should be treated equally, UNLESS the home is a profound sector trumping all others. The home could be an individual's workplace, haunt, or the like, and I suspect if the previous is true then the home is based upon the fact in itself that it trumps all other arenas in vulnerability. This vulnerability has to do with who a person thinks they are. If they are completely unclear on who they are, and suffering from a non-defined inner-being, then the vulnerability could be that exact truth, that they fear others will discover they do not have a complete self concept, or that the others will discover it before the individual can. However, I still find it odd to look into the windows of these stores and briefly peer in at lives. It is as if I am, even for only a small sector, able to be apart of those lives, witnessing histories created, discovering and analyzing personal processes and interrelationships. They have given me pieces to their puzzles. Even if you cannot find all the pieces, who can turn down a challenge like that? I must attempt to formulate them into a complex being. I must make them 3 Dimensional, for they deserve such treatment, do they not?