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?

Phone Call

she called me today, the woman i typed about in "Fear." she told me her blood counts are continuing to drop.
"Well...thanks! You are just a ray of sunshine!"
"YEP! [giggles] I'm a ray of sunshine...that sparkles. [giggles]"
i love that girl more than i could describe, a love only understandable through experience. and she's right. she is a ray of sunshine. i pray everyday to our Father that if my world should darken, be it for her painlessness. we each die, the only questions are when and how. so i do not beg Him to keep her immortal in this world. i beg do not let her break.
"Keep her strong, Father, for she is the strongest of us."
but in my selfishness, life without her sparkles would be a bit less than life.

Be Candid

i want you to shout your love from the stages of your acts. i adore love expressed in solitude, especially when those around know just by being around. but when no one could guess, is intimate love as believable? should not others know by witnessing the couple that a deep love envelopes them? each part should portray a man in love, i feel. i could only hope each of my many masks are all one of devotion to another, a specific other, my lover. drown me in not adoration, not in infatuation, not in respect, not in loyalty, not in affection, not in passion, but in the truth. only then can i proceed properly. my fingertips desire to brush across the lips of the one whom i love and, yes, and, loves me as well. otherwise questions of coercion blind. they kill feelings of security. they will halt affectionate progression. i say "affectionate progression" for my love progresses, despite your truths.
i fear you are dissembled.

My Worst and Greatest Reverie

broken glass and shattered silence spray across the room. finally after years of helplessness i grab your hand. her final breath is not his final blow, i can feel it. we run, eyes narrowing on the away. your face stings, heart bleeds, i know, but you cannot look back. you hear me? do not look back! mid sprint, the concussion is deafening, stumbling. gradually we turn. wailing, clinging to me, you seem so small. my fingertips brush plastic and metal in the bottom of my coat pocket. i am ready. we are ready. after a few steps, we are back from where we had come. our eyes lock and i know the tear tracks signal me to go on. with a strike of the metal, it starts. slowly walking backwards, we gaze into the light at the end of the tunnel. flames engulf hatred, a ruining past. we can hear the sirens now. they are coming to the rescue. but my brother and i..we have already been saved.

Sickening Love

nausea. stomach curdling. not sure how well i could possibly describe this particular emotion. perhaps it is more popular than i think, and i do not have to rely so much on expressing the feeling itself, but rather the situation. if so, maybe you will recognize the emotion i am referring to. if not, well i doubt i could conjure it up within you; i am not that literately gifted.

only associated with past relationships of some sort, an ache to speak to them, near a dire craving. however, a fear in the pit of your gut, like the anticipation of death, captivates you when you see his name..hear his voice..wait for his words. body quakes, pulse quickens, feverish, flu like. the fear stems from KNOWING interaction could only end in disaster, and yet you persist with the minimal inkling that they could desire the same as you. out of pure desperation and challenge, you move the mouse to their name, send a "hello." for those moments prior and during the wait, you hope you can revert the negativity...kiss the booboos. until reality sets in as the remark you receive is so destroying, tears flood your eyes. and that nausea? may just be released into the sink. for a little while, the lashing will leave glowing marks and sting like no other injury. a scar, though, the flesh will lack, for soon enough thoughts of them will be beautiful enough, camouflaged enough in delightful memories that you will click his name despite that curdled stomach.

what a remarkable scheme nature has created to prevent advances in such dysfunctional relationships..until it meets someone like me who thrives on horrors. i have yet to learn. it kills me! but it keeps me alive...