*Ahem* Dear brain, are you listening?

Note to self: Buck up and stop being so fucking emo.  It's pathetic, mmkay?  No one wants to read overworded paragraphs about you ultimately coming to the conclusion that you have NO IDEA what the hell you're talking about. <-- and that was a long-ass sentence.  Feelings are bullshit, so knock it off!  And stop handing out ammunition so freely. 'nuff said.

Lost under the surface

Been having some difficulty lately.  Writing. Living. Feeling.  It's like the second something is expected of me, I am no longer interested in following through.  I will drop it and let it all fall, break it into a millions peices. And all just so you know that I can't be trusted with it. I want to take your expectations, your heart, and set it all on fire.  Then make you watch it burn. Make sure you know never to entrust me with them again. 

This isn't going to make any sense.

I have that feeling like there's something creeping around in my brain.  Something that wants out, but I have no idea what it is.  It occurs to me that this blog is completely and utterly self-indulgent drivel.  But I need it.  It helps offset the fact that I no longer have the alone time to which I've grown accustomed. This is cathartic.


It also occurs to me that suddenly my life has become very busy.  Almost to the point of a comedy of errors.  And all I have to say about that is, "this will be interesting".

And lastly it occurs to me that I have to be up in roughly 3 1/2 hours.  Awesome. 


So that thing I was talking about, yeah still there.  Who knows, maybe tomorrow.

Dealings with a Schizo

Good God what have I gotten myself into?  As if I already didn't.....I just..... fuck.  This is going to be time consuming.  But it had to be done.  I think perhaps I will get a scheduler?  Yes that sounds like a capital idea. 

Impulses

Drive us.  Destroy us.  Some have more, some have less.  Some know how to control them and some don't even try. 

What is exactly is their purpose?  They don't give us a purpose, sometimes they distract from it.  But those are the fast moving ones. 

What about the slow ones? 

They creep in quietly, building in your subconscious.  Until one day >WHAM<  there it is.  Those are the dangerous ones.  The ones you will have a hard time talking yourself out of. 

Most of the time I create purely on impulse.  First impressions, instinct.  I will see something and it sets off a chain reaction in my brain that needs to be put down somewhere, as something.  If not it consumes me.  But those other ones are a bitch and half.  It's like the "frog in the pot" scenario.  Slow death, and you don't even know it.  By the time you're uncomfortable it's far too late. 

I hate that. So why is it that those impulses usually give the best in return?  Why is it always more pain = greater reward?  Who the hell thought that up?  Asshole.




(p.s. I am aware that the definition of an impulse is a quick & fleeting thing, but I just don't agree with that.  If you have ever experienced the kind of impulse I'm referring to then you won't get caught up on such trival things like "standard definitions")

Conversations with the dead

If you knew the outcome, would you change the circumstances?  Even if there was no guarantee that anything you might alter would make it better?  If presented with the easiest route to your destintation, would you take it?



I look at this now, silver and cold.  Continuing on in it's infinity. 

It looks like the halo I never had.

I don't think we all come in pure.  Some of use are marked from the beginning.  Tainted by past wrongs, and shadowed by future crimes.  The lucky ones will never know.

blissfully unaware

maybe in the end we are the ones whom fortune favors.  We fight, live, breathe, try, die harder.  Just to prove we can.  Cut ourselves open just to show we all bleed the same.

Noticed

Lights flashing all around.  I close my eyes as they hit my face. 

Weightless, but I feel them over every inch of my skin. 

Bathing me in colors, feelings, emotions. 

A guitar lifting my soul out & above.

A cello's low notes settling low in my stomach.

Piano chords, A, G, C, dancing in my ears.

The drums' steady beat vibrates through the air residing in my chest.  it becomes one with my own beat.  the one that's there all along, but is always ignored.




something inside wakes, sleeps no more......
quiet at first.
but louder now, it wants to be heard.

"I can't believe I never noticed my heart before."

MuteMath - Noticed

Lessons learned, bridges burned...

It's amazing what you can learn about someone in just a few weeks.  Even more amazing how in a matter of an hour you can find out everything you learned was a lie.  It's also surprising how vicious & malicious someone can get when they realize they've been found out.  It seems like everytime I start learning to trust in people again, along comes someone who abuses it. 


This just further solidifies my need to not trust in ANYONE.  I may seem public, may seem like I'm giving my all, but I am ALWAYS holding back the better part of me.  Even here. 


trust no one



I have learned that lesson a long time ago.  In fact it's the one I am taught repeatedly.  Maybe this time I will get it through my head.

it goes in phases

one, two, you haven't a clue.





three, four, find an open door





five, six, your life measured in ticks




seven, eight, get your fucking story straight

nine, ten, shall we go over this again?

une, deux, ouvrez vos yeux

trois, quatre, faites vous voyez, vraiment?

cinq, six, écrivez votre vie sur une affiche

sept, huit, neuf, bercez l'oeuf








dix, Je suis fini

Could you shut up for like 5 minutes maybe?

Today I find myself dark.  Pretty much everything out of my mouth has been cutting, abrasive, or sarcastic.  Which is actually pretty normal, except today it is not done with the usual playful spirit that makes it funny to everyone else.  I have been trying not to say anything at all, but for some reason whenever I don't want to talk everyone else is loquacious.  All I really want is solitude.  It would be heaven on Earth right now to drive out to an open field, lay a blanket down, relax, stare at the sky, and listen to the din of the universe.  It sounds like a lot, but really it's ridiculously simple. I have not had enough time alone lately and it is wearing me thin. 

This will sound odd to almost everyone, but I crave lack of human contact.  People, it's hard to be near them constantly.  Their emotions seeping onto me, the thoughts they don't know I can read off their faces- practically shouting at me.  It can really get to be too much if my mind isn't in the right place.  And for that to happen I need alone time.  It's much easier on the internet to interact with others.  With them it's only my thoughts in my head, my emotions that I feel.  I can think with untainted logic.  Whether or not that helps or hinders the conversation, I don't know.  But it feels better to me.  At least that way I'm sure I'm me. 

Some people in my RL like me this way, others not so much.  Some find it helpful that they don't have to say or do much for me to understand what they are trying to tell me.  Others hate it because they can't keep things from me.  There is no hiding and they find it annoying.  Well excuse the fuck out of me.  You really think I want to know everything that crosses your mind?  NO.  I REALLY FUCKING DON'T.   But I do, and I have to deal with it, so you might as well too, or get out of my life.  Your decision.  I've already made mine.

My cover does not belie my contents

My book cover will tell you everything about me and nothing at all.  What you think you see is not what's actually there. 

At first glance, I look young, bubbly, carefree, and reasonably attractive. 

Look closer.  You will see the scars on my skin.  Some caused by outside forces, some self-inflicted.  You will see the tragedies I hide behind a well crafted smirk.  You will hear the music of my soul etched into the coloring of my eyes, much like a record.  Blue-slow, gray-melancholy, purple-dark base notes (like bruises that never quite heal), yellow flecks-softly tinkling in the higher registers (sunlight peeking through rain clouds).

Open me and look inside.  I am nothing like my cover.  The contents look about 200 years older, and blacker than that deepest recesses of space.  I never let it out so it just stays beneath the surface.  Like liquid mercury.  Metallic and bitter, in an eternal ebb and flow.  Occasionally being drawn near to the surface but immediately pushed down.  Shine a light through my skin, you will see it all. 

I control it.  This much I have mastered.  I nearly lost it once to that Russian game that everyone talks about, but no one really wants to play.  I wish I could say I won, but truth be told the moment you decide to play, you have lost. 

The outside does not reflect the waters within, it has merely been constructed in a fashion to keep them from getting to you.

Directions

I think about it sometimes, how different my life would be if I had taken another path.  If I had moved a fraction of an inch in either direction, I would not be standing where I am now.  Sure there are things I would REALLY like to not have gone through, but if I didn't I wouldn't be anyone even resembling who I am today. 

I think about the million different ways I've been pulled, tossed, and turned in my life.  Some I saw the reason for, others just not at the time, and some I'm still waiting on an explanation for.   But I wouldn't have wanted anything different.  I truly like who I am as a person, and if I had to go through that all again I would. 

Sure there are things about me that aren't the most desirable traits.   I'm stubborn as hell.  I WILL let you know when you are being an asshole, when you need to STFU & stop complaining, & when that dress makes you look fucking huge.  I've got a temper on me like you won't believe. Mostly because you won't see it that often, I'm very emotionally controlled.  But when you hit a nerve, clear the fucking room.  It's still waters one second and raging rapids the next.  In those moments I will not refrain from saying anything on my mind, or attempt to word it in a gentle way.  You are totally fucked.  But like I said it's a VERY rare occurrance. 

But there are things about me that I think are really good.  I can tell how you're feeling & exactly what you need without you having to say a word.  I know when to shut up and when to offer advice.  I have a way of listening that lends itself to you solving your own problem without even knowing it's happening.  I am fiercely loyal to those I love and will do damn near anything for them.  I have a knack for making people laugh.  (I have no clue how or why.) 

All that said, I really do like who I am.  If I could I would track down every person who has changed me and led me along my path.  I would find them and thank them.  Even the ones who caused me grief and pain. Actually, I think I would thank those people twice.  Because they are the ones who really did a number on me, and carved my path the deepest.  I owe them the most.  *note to self, look into fruit baskets....*

So now I look at the road I'm on.  You think I would hesitate my next step, but no.  I take it with all that much more conviction.  It's life.  There are no do-overs, no rewind button.  It could be my last step and I don't want to do it half-assed.  So here I go down this ever changing path, doin a little left foot, right foot.

The shape of things to come...

Once again I find myself unable to sleep. Not an unusual occurrance, just an annoying one.  These fluffy pillows and velvety comforter are doing absolutely nothing for me at this point.  I was tired, incredibly so.  However, the minute I laid my head on the aforementioned fluffy pillow I was instantly awake.  I guess this is the price I pay for always having so much in my head.  It can be a bit difficult to turn off at times.  I have to be awake in 2 hours, and at this point I don't really see attempting sleep as something feasable.  So I just lay here, type, and listen. 

Listen and type. 

It's so quiet I swear I can hear everything going on in the world.  My neighbor is stumbling around his house getting ready for work.  It occurs to me I haven't the slightest clue what he does, I just know he gets up REALLY early to go do it.  By the time he's actually ready to leave, he will only be marginally more awake than he is now.  He'll emerge from his home freshly showered, travel coffee-mug in hand, bleary eyed as hell, and his tie on crooked.  ( I assume he fixes it before he gets to his final destination, but I really don't know.)  The faint "woosh" of an airplane overhead.  I wonder if it's coming or going.  Who on it is sad to have left wherever, and who is excited to have escaped it.  Some nocturnal creature is nibbling on the foliage beneath my window.  I can hear it rustling around, trying to get it's fill before the sun comes up.  The low, dull whir of the fan that resides in my laptop.  The staccato clicks and clacks of the keys as my fingers caress them. 

The steady tha-thump going on inside my chest.  Even.  Rhythmic.  Beautiful.  Limited and Limitless.

Maybe not being able to sleep isn't a bad thing afterall.